HAP Posted June 10, 2012 Report Share Posted June 10, 2012 Dear friends, At eighteen months a child is a toddler. The child walks, after a fashion, but sometimes--and for no apparent reason--falls on its butt. Sometimes the surprise induces laughter, sometimes tears. The child can speak, also after a fashion. It communicates in rudimentary words about the most basic of wants and needs--and tears and howls are still a major --though decreasing--part of the package. I am a toddler in the world of grief. Eighteen months ago, when Jane died, the numbness and the pain were omnipresent. I remember bits and pieces of those days--arranging the pictures for the collages for the wake, carrying the coffin, leaving the church, speaking at the cemetery, returning to work, speaking at the Greater Fall River Relay--but most of the first year consists of long stretches of emptiness punctuated by short sharp memories of overwhelming sorrow and grief. I remember vividly the day of Jane's death. Every moment of it is etched in my mind. But I still lack the ability to describe the despair of those moments--nor the act of will it took to do all that needed to be done over those hours. I was an infant again. I had no words with which to articulate the pain. My screams in those first months after her death were silent and private. Our students still needed the fatherly half of the couple we were. I do not comprehend what a surviving parent goes through--how hard they are driven to remain strong for the children. My own task was hard enough. At night, at least, I could retreat into the grief and the pain and the tears a parent living with young children is denied. If you want to see real strength, look at them. My strength was largely exhausted in walking Jane to the end of her life. I am learning to walk again. I am learning to talk again. There are days--yesterday was one--that I feel my humanity returning--that I feel emotions other than rage and grief, that I think about something other than wreaking vengeance on the foul disease that separated my wife and me. But then I wake up from some dream or see, without realizing it, some trigger during a walk or a drive and I am that toddler again whose legs are suddenly not where they were an instant before. The awfulness of grief rolls in and pins me to the ground and all I can do is howl in frustration. But like the toddler, I get up again. Walking, for all its frustrations, is better than crawling. For now, for all of us, it is about baby-steps. We just have to have faith that some day we won't fall down. Peace, Harry Link to comment Share on other sites More sharing options...
Wifflesnook Posted June 10, 2012 Report Share Posted June 10, 2012 Dear Harry I am going to keep this as it means so much to me where I am right now. Not yet a toddler but more a new born babe. I have yet to reach the toddling stage but you make me realise how far we all have to go when we have lost the love of our lives. I have little consciousness yet of where I am in this new and hostile world. But I have to learn to live in it because at the moment it is the only place I can inhabit. Jan Link to comment Share on other sites More sharing options...
mfh Posted June 10, 2012 Report Share Posted June 10, 2012 Dear Harry, As usual you have a wonderful and unique way of putting into words what all of us feel. I find myself moving from infant to toddler to infant to toddler...the conference this week (on death) set me back to infant again... I thank you for this post as it says what I feel so well. Someday...perhaps...we will move from toddler to pre-school. For now, infant and toddler seems to capture it well. Peace Mary Link to comment Share on other sites More sharing options...
lizardo Posted June 11, 2012 Report Share Posted June 11, 2012 Harry, Thank you for the wonderful perspective on this grieving process. I am an infant of six weeks--a baby that will smile and look at you and stuff, but it's probably just gas. And when I fill my emotional diaper, I have to change it myself. Unfair! But this forum is great, hopefully I can help someone else, too. Hugs, Liz. Link to comment Share on other sites More sharing options...
ANC1117 Posted June 13, 2012 Report Share Posted June 13, 2012 Harry, I fell on my butt again today, just when I felt I was making great strides. Time to pick myself up and start the baby steps tomorrow. Thanks for sharing your analogy. Anthony Link to comment Share on other sites More sharing options...
Dwaynecg Posted June 13, 2012 Report Share Posted June 13, 2012 Dear Harry, Your words are spot on. I feel the very same way. With everything I went through before Pauline passed, nothing prepared me for the aftermath. The very deep hurt, longing for her. Your words touched me at my soul. Yes I feel like I have traveled far, getting my life back together, fighting grief everyday with the faith of my good book. But I still fall, get up learning to walk all over again also, is a very hard thing to do. I continue on in this life striving to give my help to others, at least that is what I tell myself, but by helping them, I help myself in return. To heal, process my grief, so I will grow from being a toddler to that adult again someday. God Bless you Harry, Dwayne Link to comment Share on other sites More sharing options...
MartyT Posted June 13, 2012 Report Share Posted June 13, 2012 Harry, my dear, obviously you've struck a chord (again) with your beautiful writing. Would you consider letting me add this piece to our "Voices of Experience" series on the Grief Healing blog? ♥ Link to comment Share on other sites More sharing options...
mfh Posted June 13, 2012 Report Share Posted June 13, 2012 Marty, so glad you asked Harry if you can post this. It says so well what we all go through, as you know...wobbly walking, bam...down on our butts, tears most times, back up again....a tad stronger for each fall. Peace, Mary Link to comment Share on other sites More sharing options...
HAP Posted June 13, 2012 Author Report Share Posted June 13, 2012 Harry, my dear, obviously you've struck a chord (again) with your beautiful writing. Would you consider letting me add this piece to our "Voices of Experience" series on the Grief Healing blog? ♥ Certainly. Anything I can do. Peace, Harry Link to comment Share on other sites More sharing options...
kayc Posted June 13, 2012 Report Share Posted June 13, 2012 Harry, What an analogy! How spot on, our grief journey is indeed just like a toddler learning to walk. I remember how they take a couple of steps and fall down. Sometimes they wail, sometimes they just look startled, but invariably they get back up again and continue mastering the steps until they're walking. Link to comment Share on other sites More sharing options...
Queeniemary Posted June 14, 2012 Report Share Posted June 14, 2012 Harry, thank you, you hit the mark. I may be a few months further along, and maybe my steps are not quite as wobbly, but still taking baby steps. Mary (Queeniemary) in Arkansas Link to comment Share on other sites More sharing options...
MartyT Posted July 1, 2012 Report Share Posted July 1, 2012 Dear Ones, you'll find Harry's post, "A Toddler in the World of Grief," reprinted with his permission on our Grief Healing blog, here: http://www.griefhealingblog.com/2012/07/voices-of-experience-toddler-in-world.html ♥ Link to comment Share on other sites More sharing options...
mfh Posted July 1, 2012 Report Share Posted July 1, 2012 Harry, I am so glad that you allowed this piece to be posted. I think it will help a lot of people who get the message that at 18 months we should have moved on. This says so well what grief is like. Good for you. Peace, Mary Link to comment Share on other sites More sharing options...
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