For the past few weeks I have had constant reminders that I am in the right place at the right time. Sometimes we need these little affirmations, especially after suffering so much pain upon losing a loved one and wondering ‘why am I here when (s/he) is not?’
In the days after my son’s car accident, I was in complete shock; I was very lucky to have my dear family members and friends drive or fly in from five different states to 🐝 (Be) there for me. With them by my side, I was able to tackle some of the most difficult tasks: claim my son’s body and vehicle (in both instances my surviving son and I were discouraged from viewing Lucas or his cleft-in-half VW, so we gratefully allowed my cousins, both war veterans, to take over); retrieve Luke’s medical records; meet with the attending police officer; obtain copies of my son’s death certificate; deal with car insurance; etc.
Weeks or months later, it’s hard to say, I began my forays into the world. After all, I had to buy groceries, make appointments, complete certain daily tasks, etc. I did so with apprehension, never sure when a memory, sight or sound would strike. One example: I heard a young boy bouncing a ball incessantly in a store while his mother shopped. My son Lucas was a basketball player; his obsession carried over into every step or leap he took. He was always dribbling, making imaginary baskets, ghost dunking. Fast forward to a shopping expedition after the death of my son: The sound of the child’s ball rendered me helpless. It was like a punch in the gut. I left my groceries and fled.
The helpless feeling of not belonging in the world, of not having the RIGHT to exist, lingered for too long. What tiny baby steps have led me to where I am now, along with the realization that I can be open to the outside world and not be harmed by it. Several astonishing encounters of the last month or two have reminded me of the power and comfort in BE-ing present and engaging with others.
Last week, I was taking advantage of a seasonal sale, stocking up on footwear for my annual Flip Flop Drop (in June) in honor of my deceased son. Watching me pile dozens and dozens of pairs of sandals into my cart, the woman behind me asked jokingly, “How many feet do you have?!” I eventually explained to her the reason behind the Flip Flop giveaway: random acts of kindness in memory of my son, a barefoot boy who generously and sometimes carelessly left his own sandals behind. She responded with kindness and compassion, and offered me a hug. I thanked her for her kindness. She thanked me for sharing my story; we were both deeply touched by the encounter. “My name is B” I offered. “I’m Em, candidate for governor.” How amazing that here is a politician with heart, who truly listens to her constituents. Equally astonishing: the seemingly random factors that placed us together, in line at the check-out, at that moment. After all, I had been planning to drive straight home after work, but traffic was so bad I thought ‘I’ll just pop into the store, and let the congestion die down.’ Yet it was one of those ‘meant-to-be encounters, almost planned by an outside force. Human interactions like these are such wonderful affirmations of the goodness of others and the importance of sharing our stories.
For all the Vilomahs (grieving parents) out there, and for anyone who wishes to understand just a little about grief, know this: there is a beautiful world for those able to see it. Caring people can give us strength, and help to heal us in our journey. We must be open to these experiences, however, to benefit from the support of others. Grief: talk about it.