Unfinished Business

Why these words keep coming up in my head as I think of grief in general and the grief I am experiencing, I won't judge.

For me the unfinished business I am experiencing with my grandfathers death is about serving him, honoring him and making sure that his things are with people that cherish them. And, my pain.

We all met to clean out the house and gather things that meant something to us. We all understood each others needs and shared graciously of he and my grandmothers most loved items. Something strange came over me as I wandered thru their house. Seemed everything was sentimental to me from the love letters all the way down to the bottles of cinnamon in the pantry. I didn't want anything left behind. My cousin and I split a pair of his cowboy boots, it seems a desperate attempt to hold on to him.

I wanted to serve him until the very end. I held on to his every breath. In the last hours of his life he was honored as a hero. His service was beautiful, complete with words from family, military honors and tears. As they opened the wall where he was to be placed right next to my grandmother it suddenly hit me that I am again mourning the loss of my grandmother as well. The couple I looked up to for guidance on marriage and forgiveness. Thank you Dear ones for all of these gifts.

I am not done grieving my grandfather, and this may sound crazy to some, but I don't want to be done yet. I don't want to be rescued, made to feel better, told 20 things that I don't believe in. I know that everyone has the same goal. To ease the pain and make me smile, (for that I am appreciative). I am missing a very important man in my life, that pain will not go with out "healing time". I have decided that this is totally an inside job, to be worked out by me and only me. The words that have been a comfort to me have not been words. Eye to eye listening without judgement or no comment have been the best, not caring in which manner my mood was as I let MY feelings fall out of my mouth. Not stopping the flow of tears with a kleenex or a comment, like "he's in a better place" or, "He was 90, you kind of expected this, didn't you?" These kind of comments are for the dead. I know these comments are well meant, but obvious. It is ME now that is in pain, not him. Pain needs to be witnessed. One friend told me, "Terri, stay with your tears" That spoke volumes to me. I felt like it gave me permission to grieve. I didn't think I needed permission, but I am surprised at the pain and I thought it would be easier for me and I have been standing in judgement of myself. After all, I coach people on grief. I should be better at this. Nope!!

This whole experience has got me wondering just who the hell I think I am to want to help grievers. I am not sure that I have any idea of the magnitude of pain that people feel. Every person deals with grief differently. There are a million reasons why one feels as they do. It is a personal journey that needs to be heard and held. It needs zero "judgements" and zero "shoulds". I will change some actions, that is for sure. I know this is a learning process for me.

To all of you with well wishes, I thank you for your kind thoughts.