Don't stand too close to a grieving man...

For my second post, I thought that I’d share some observations on my experience of the grieving process. As I’m told, everyone experiences it differently, so this should not be taken as a map to navigate it successfully (whatever that means). It is more a glimpse into what it was like for me, and what I found helpful, and in some cases, not so helpful.

For those of you who may recognise something you said or did that I happen to put into the ‘not so helpful’ category, please do not be offended: I know you meant well, and I appreciate that you tried. It is hard supporting someone who is grieving, and no one really knows what to say or do (least of all, me!). Furthermore, people who are grieving generally have a whole lot of stuff flying around in their heads, and are easily overloaded with feelings. I know I was…

Empathy, not sympathy…

Someone explained the difference between empathy and sympathy to me once like this:

Empathy is when you see someone drowning, you say “that’s terrible, let me help you.” Whereas sympathy is when you see someone drowning, you say “that’s terrible, I’m going to get in there with you and drown as well.”

This description struck a chord with me. When Melissa died, there were times when I felt very depressed, and having empathetic people around me was very helpful: people who would come around, and hang out, and listen. Sympathetic people, although well meaning, were hard work.

Invite me over for a meal, don’t drown me in your home cooking…

One thing that I really enjoyed was having friends invite me over for a meal. It was a social outing for me (and kids), it was time out of the house, it made me feel better. I had a good time, so did the kids.

On the other hand, a number of very well-meaning people decided to cook for the kids and I, and bring it around. There were a number of issues with this:

a.     I like to cook. It is something that I am good at. It gives me a sense of accomplishment to cook meals for my family. When people turned up with meals, it made me feel a little useless.

b.     My freezer got so full that there was no room for the basic stuff that a growing family needs to store in there, like bread.

c.     Just because you like your tuna pasta bake or fish pie does not necessarily mean that I will!

I needed support, not judgement…

My grief was very confusing. I had a lot of feelings and emotions running around my head. It was not an easy time. I just wanted to feel better. I found it hard to process what was going on. Many of my friends just got this, they were very accepting, and listened. They didn’t feel the need to really say, or do anything. Really, there was nothing that could be said or done to fix what I was experiencing.

Others had somewhat fixed ideas about how the process should go, and found it difficult that my process seemed different to what they were experiencing (or had experienced in the past). I’ll reiterate: everyone experiences grief differently. This was particularly the case for those who were experiencing their own grief. We had all lost someone special: a wife, a mother, a family member, a friend… It all hurts.

There were times when I felt judged for things that happened that some friends’ disagreed with. This was difficult because I needed friends, regardless of what was going on. I may have seemed OK from the outside, but I was scared and lonely, and had taken a big hit to my self-esteem.

What’s the key message here? Well, I guess that it is: this stuff is hard… take it easy on each other.

Hello world...

Hello world. My name is Bryan. I’m 36 years old. I live in Wellington, New Zealand. I work for a Government department as a Principal Research Analyst. I’m also an amateur musician (read that as singer and guitar addict). I love to run and play sports. I’m a father to two beautiful children, Zach is 9 and Paige is almost 7. And, I’m a widower…

Almost a year ago, my wife of nearly 11 years (Melissa) died after a long battle with bowel cancer. For those interested, you might like to read her blog: just-another-cancer-blog.blogspot.com/.  Quite frankly, I’ve had a hell of a time.

This blog is about me finding my way in the world on my own, and a few experiences that I have had over the last year. Some of these experiences were great, and some not so great. I’ve learned a few things along the way, and I will continue to learn in the future. I am writing a blog for two reasons:

1. Writing my experiences down is quite therapeutic; and
2. There are probably other people out there who might enjoy reading this.

So, after almost 11 years of marriage, I suddenly found myself alone… What’s that like? You may ask… Weird, is probably the best answer.

In the days following Melissa’s passing, whilst devastated, I was surprisingly relieved. Over the three and a half years since her diagnosis, I watched her go through some truly horrid things. She experienced terrible symptoms from the cancer, and almost worse side effects from the various treatments that she endured. For those interested in the details, read Melissa’s blog, it’s all in there! There is something profoundly confronting about watching someone you love experience such awful things. In the end, it was a relief that her pain had ended. Don’t get me wrong, I miss her dearly. But that was not living. In between Melissa’s passing and the funeral, I had lots of friends and family around, which was great. Then everyone left, and reality crept back in.    

Eventually, I went back to work. I was certainly ready to go back when I did. I was pretty damn sick of asking “what shall we do today, kids?” I really enjoy my job, it gives me purpose, and I get to interact with other adults. Throughout all this, the organisation I work for have been very understanding and flexible. I could not have asked for better. You guys know who you are, so thanks!

Suddenly finding myself parenting on my own has been much, much harder than I ever imagined. No one will love my kids as much as I do, they are wonderful kids, BUT they are kids. And by definition, can be completely unreasonable and difficult little humans. Effectively, there is no escape. Whilst the children have two exceptional sets of Grandparents who are extremely helpful (one set close, one far away), it’s not a touch on having Mum there.  It’s also a juggling act, between being a Dad, working full time, running a household, and somewhere in between attempting to have some kind of social life, it is somewhat of a full plate.

Grief is a strange thing. It comes in waves. Sometimes you feel great, other times you feel awful. Sometimes on the same day, other times for several days, or even weeks at a time. Generally, I am a very positive person and normally quite level headed. I was not prepared for the anger I felt, nor the sadness. It was terrible. Ladies and Gentlemen: if you ever find yourself in this position, seek help, and seek it early!

I had the good fortune of knowing about the counselling services provided by our local Hospice (Te Omanga Hospice). They were wonderful. Not only could I receive counselling, but the children could attend music and art therapy sessions. This was a huge help. The staff there are fantastic, not only the counsellors, but also the nurses, doctors and other staff and volunteers. It takes a very special kind of person to work in palliative care, I’ve never in all my life experienced such empathy.

So, how am I doing almost a year later? Pretty good most of the time, I guess. The kids are very bright, and are both doing very well at school. Both have lots of friends, and enjoy a wide range of sports and activities. In fact, to look at them, you would never know that such a tragedy has befallen them. We have had many highs and many lows this year. We have had some great support, and some (well intentioned) less helpful support. Some of these may end up as future posts (I don’t want to use all my good material in the first post!).

And me, you ask? How am I? Well, I’m a survivor. I cope. I have many wonderful friends, but I’m desperately sad for what I have lost. I want that again…