(the secret stages of grief)

My dad died two months ago. I thought this would be like any other challenge in my life—just put on my big girl panties and deal with it. And, why not? That formula has worked for me my entire life: Asian stoicism + pragmatism + work = success. Or at least survival. No problem! I am nothing if not resilient. Then, there’s the other factor to consider—we wanted him to die. We were praying for it, preparing for it, and begging him to let go in those final weeks. I have been watching him die in slow motion for the last couple of years, and I just wanted some peace for him and my mother, who was literally killing herself taking care of him.

I even felt like I had become familiar with grief already—totally feeling everything out of order, but now I could just go through the stages of grief in a nice, organized fashion, and then move on with life. Ha.

Like most big challenges in life—serving a full time mission, marriage, motherhood, being a military wife—I thought I understood what it would be like. But reality trumps theoretical expectations every time.

And what about this reality of mourning someone? Is it like the theory, the models, the clinical process you take notes on in college? That is a hard NO. Because I have found that along with denial, anger, bargaining, depression, and acceptance, there are several stages of grief that no one talks about. So it’s like fight club—the first rule is there is no fight club. And with grieving—the first rule is, there is nothing outside of the standard five stages of grief.

I thought by at least naming them, the secret stages, that is, I might get a handle on what is going on in my head and my heart. Maybe I can help someone else survive this thing we aren’t really supposed to talk about. (Because families are forever! And life goes on! And it’s been two months, why aren’t you over this already?)

STAGE ONE

This is the first thing that took me by surprise. I AM TIRED. ALL THE TIME. I know that being there as my father was dying and supporting my mother was tiring. Nobody slept much—except for the guy in the coma, that is. Planning and executing a funeral takes a lot of physical and emotional energy. But there’s being tired after 18 months in Korea as a missionary, or being really exhausted in my 9th month of still-puking-my-guts-out pregnancies, and then there is this kind of tired.

STAGE TWO

CS Lewis said once that he didn’t know that grief felt so much like fear. I didn’t know it felt so much like annoyance. I am irritated by everyone and everything. My family needing to be fed, the absurdity of everything going on in our country right now, the fact that the dog just got hold of a roll of toilet paper and toilet papered the house, or that I can’t find any chocolate in the house (and NO, chocolate chips do NOT count as chocolate).

STAGE THREE

This one is fun! I am incapable of getting dressed correctly, on the first try. I’m constantly wearing some article of clothing inside out, or backwards and then being completely unaware of it until someone points it out. I thought it was just me, but apparently this phenomenon happens to others. My sister-in-law, who lost her father on Christmas Day, told me she wore her underwear wrong for like 4 months. Maybe my brain just has no room right now to pay attention to something I’ve been doing for over 50 years and also no room to evaluate my work…? Or I’m just losing my mind. Or it’s an effect of being tired all the time. Somebody should do a study on this.(Make sure it’s peer-reviewed, though. Because anyone in the country who studied anything outside of science has no clue what that means, but they WILL cancel you. See? Irritability.)

STAGE FOUR

Then there is the matter of cravings—sometimes, I just want a brownie to be RIGHT in front of me, like if I could just tell Alexa, and it would appear, that would be awesome. Other times, I want salty stuff. Or Chinese food. The good kind. From a restaurant that’s three hours away from my house. Super practical. Or, I just crave solitude. This is especially difficult in a pandemic situation. With a new puppy. Oh, and my daughter is newly engaged. And school for the youngest is only two days a week, in person. I’m never alone. Combine all the factors above, exhaustion, irritability, inability to get dressed (maybe not that one so much), and there might be a murder, or two. (But it’s ok, because we can just count it as Covid-related.)

STAGE FIVE (LET’S HOPE)

Maybe you’re reading this and thinking I should be screened for depression. The fatigue, the irritability, the crazy rollercoaster ride of emotion I’m strapped in to. But I already HAVE Major Depressive Disorder, which I’m being treated for, and if I didn’t, loss of a loved one is a huge risk factor/cause of a bout of depression. So is my mental illness exacerbated by my grief? I’d say that’s a statistical probability. I am trying to keep an eye on my symptoms and make sure nothing gets too out of whack. Can I do anything about it? I think just trying to excavate and journal my feelings is definitely a step in the right direction.

I feel like my grief is a secret that I’ve been trying to keep from myself. That if I don’t think about it too hard, it will just fade away on its own. But this complex process of figuring out that I miss my father and that I mourned the loss of him for years before he actually was gone, only to be faced with new feelings that I can’t neatly pigeonhole…this is what it’s going to take for me to heal the wound. Being patient with myself (not one of my strengths) is really crucial right now. I am learning to give myself permission to not be okay, because how is it okay to have to say goodbye to someone you love?

Grief is just an echo of love, and I’m learning to be at peace with hearing those echoes.

Michael S. Wilcox said, “There is no road map for grief to tell us how near we are to that desired, and yet not desired, destination of healing, peace, and relief.”

So, for now, I’m going to take a nap when I need to, let my amazingly patient husband take care of me, accept all the kind words, gestures, gifts, cards, and treats my wonderful friends have been showering me with, say no to things I know will annoy me, and try to come to terms with the fact that I am actually NOT superwoman. Life is amazing, and God’s grace is real, and sometimes it’s ok to just wear pjs all day. Inside out.