Why Me? AKA Why Not You?

Here's the thing about being around a parent who has lost a child.  They are being swept along by the current of their emotions. They are just riding the roller coaster and trying to make it through.  They move in and out of the stages of grief over and over again- one of them being anger.  Plan on seeing them be angry.  And if their child's death was traumatic, plan on seeing some of that anger be completely irrational.  Remember those closest to them will catch the brunt of it just by accessibility.

I don't always understand why I'm angry.  I just am.

I don't mean to hurt people's feelings along the way.  But I do.

I realized a long time ago that the question I was asking through my anger was "Why me?  Why her?"  Or even just the abbreviated, "Why?"  I did all the research, read all the grief self-help books, and tried to change that question from "Why?"  to "What? "

"What can I do now?  What will help me move forward?"  It was a nice try, but I failed miserably at sustaining this thought model.  Cory's face- her big green eyes- just swallowed that logic up.  Bloop.

I rail in private and in public- mainly on this blog- about other parents who haven't lost their children all the time, never realizing that I was asking the second question, "Why Not You?"

It's not a mean question.  It's just an honest question.  And I have to believe on behalf of myself and any other parents out there who've lost their children that if you were in our shoes, you'd be asking it, too.  It is human nature.

Maybe I take it to the next level because I voice it so publicly.  I put it out there for the world to see, as unflattering as it may be.  I throw in some profanity along the way for emphasis.

That's just who I've grown to be.  I don't believe in wearing the mask.  I don't believe in under-reporting the symptoms.  I don't believe in not voicing your questions.

If you don't ask them, how will you ever get answers?

And maybe, the answer will eventually be that there is no answer.  Maybe someday, I'll get tired of asking.  I sure hope so.  I don't want to be this bitter forever.

In the meantime, I just have to be angry.  I have to trust the process.  I hope my friends and loved ones will continue to be as patient with me as they've been so far.  Let me be angry.  Accept it for what it is.  Don't take it personally.  Sit with me and let me rail.  And remember, I still love you all the same...and your children, too.