Be strong, oh you’re so strong, I could never be as strong as you…
If you’re like me, since you’re loved one died, you’ve been told numerous times how strong you are. Not that you can lift a car or climb Mt. Everest but because every waking moment you are enduring every parents worst nightmare… which, by the way, give me Mt Everest any day compared to this type of strength!
I’ve grown a certain disdain for being told how strong I am. It’s not that I’m not proud of what I’ve been through or that I don’t see my own strength, it’s that people aren’t really recognizing the true transformation that can occur after losing a loved one.
Their comments are based on seeing us in public or at work while we create the illusion of a highly functioning bereaved parent/sibling/friend/child. Most likely, in those cases, we do appear strong. They don’t see us crying in our car while running errands, or in the bathroom at work, or (for me) sucking back tears when I see a young man in uniform.
People who tell us we’re strong also don’t really want to see anything else from us… stop me when I lie! They want to believe that our strength is vicarious proof that, God forbid, if anything like that we’re to happen to them they would survive, just as we have. They need the reassurance of the resilience of human spirit.
And honestly, I’m happy to give that to them, because I would rather give them that proof than have them join me as a bereaved parent. Wouldn’t you?
To be honest, I’m tired of being strong. Being “strong” got old early on and I am proud to have made the choice to work on other characteristics that deepen as a result of healing from loss.
These other characteristics are the ones that have gotten me through the worst grief has thrown at me. These are the ones that I cherish and melt into the cracks of my broken heart.
You too get to choose what characteristics you deepen in your life after loss.
Instead of telling me I’m strong, tell me…
How much courage I have.
Acknowledge that talking to parents who haven’t lost a child and being genuinely happy for their child’s milestone (that mine will never see) is an incredible act of courage on my part. I am happy to share joy with others. But, don’t tell me I’m strong, acknowledge the courage it took to stand in that place.
That I have the bravery of an ancient warrior.
When I put up the Christmas decorations with tears burning my eyes and a deep ache in my heart, but I do it anyway because I want to create joy for my remaining family and I want to continue to rebuild joy for myself. Don’t tell me I’m strong. Recognize the bravery it takes for me to show up 100% to events, holidays, anniversaries, and even regular ol’ days sometimes.
How much humility I’ve gained
I’ve had to accept that I am not in control of this journey we call life. Any illusion of control I thought I had was shattered the moment my heart was pierced with the knowledge my son had died. Don’t tell me I’m strong, find space in your heart for my humility.
You admire the gratitude I’ve learned
Along with humility I am grateful for the smallest acts in my everyday life. Cultivating a deep gratitude practice has created the most profound healing in my journey. No God or higher power ever promised me how long my son Brandon would be here on earth. No sacred promise was broken when he died, I just assumed he would be around longer than me.
Now I am very grateful for the memories of him and of the life I have, since I now know there are no promises.
I know we are given everything and promised nothing. I ask that you deepen your gratitude along side me, but don’t tell me I’m strong.
But don’t tell me I’m strong
I almost find it trite, bordering on an insult that people can’t see the larger growth opportunity I’ve had no choice but to embrace fully. I know I’m strong, but what truly amazing me is how much depth the human soul can be carved into when the forces of the human experience are present.[click to tweet]
Would you look at the Grand Canyon and think of a trickling stream that created it? No.
I could have chosen bitterness, anger, and resentment (I tried these early on), but I didn’t. And, ironically, had I chosen these people wouldn’t see me as strong, they would most likely whisper behind my back how broken I’ve become. I am broken, but I am healing by choosing the best characteristics grief has to offer. [click to tweet]
In spite of how out of control grief feels at times, we are still able to make choices about how we engage life. I never had a choice but to “be strong”, but I do have a choice to cultivate my courage, bravery & humility. [click to tweet].
What about you?
What do you want people to see in you?
What characteristics have you embraced?
How have you grown and deepened your human experience as a result of your loss?
Share in the comments below.
I want people to see the example I try to set everyday for my girls. I have taught them to help others, because everyone is dealing with something. I have taught them it is okay to be happy, but at the same time be sad. I have tried to teach them to embrace everyday and make the most of it. But the most important of all if we stick together we can get through anything. I am so blessed to have such a wonderful family.
Robin – Well said, you are raising the next ‘new generation’ of grief!
Thank you Paula…you always have a way of putting into words the things that I feel and think but cannot express. My daughter died a handful of hours after she was born. When I think of the parents I’ve met who lost an older child I often wonder if their grief is harder than mine because they have years of memories of different stages in their child’s life that carry a bittersweet sting. Or if it is harder to always wonder what my daughter would have been like if she had lived long enough to experience life and to celebrate each new milestone as it comes. In truth there is no answer to this question because each of us will experience grief in an entirely different way no matter the time we spend with our children. But the characteristics that can be cultivated if we choose to develop them remain the commonality we share.
I am continually filled with gratitude for the time I was given to meet Sophia face to face. To be able to experience her bravery and courage to come into this world despite all odds that said she should have been a miscarriage within the first 8 weeks. Or that babies with her circumstances do not survive the birthing process. The energy that it took, besides the said characteristics that she taught me, to come into this world for those few hours so that we could look at each other and experience those moments of pure, unconditional love blows my mind every time I think of her brave little soul. I had never understood or experienced unconditional love until that moment. And it’s a characteristic that I continue to cultivate as a result of her life. I have also come to develop patience and compassion for people when they make off handed comments that they have no clue cut my wounds wide open again. I’ve begun to see people through my eyes of sorrow and become far more forgiving of their actions and words because I know just how deep the pain of loss can rip through the soul and all of us struggle to overcome some sort of loss in this life.
But above all my experience with this grief has brought me to develop a passion for life and living it to the fullest because each day is a gift that has the potential to be whatever we choose it to be even when we have absolutely no control over the circumstances. And each day holds the opportunity to discover and cultivate more of ourselves because of the unique experience we have been given as patents who’ve had the greatest loss of all. No, we are far more than strong and we are reminded of this each time we are humble enough to let ourselves to truly experience grief on our own terms.
Stephanie – You’re wisdom and grace shine through your comments. You are genuinely a beautiful soul – keep shining the world needs more of you! *hugs*
Thank you Paula! Your willingness to open your heart and soul to all of us has given me the courage to share Sophie’s story. Over the past few months I’ve begun to see mainstream society shifting their approach on a topic that was nearly tabu at the time of my loss. A new kind of hope is growing in my soul that affirms even more than ever that every experience has a purpose. With that hope held firmly in our souls and shining in our hearts all of us parents can make so much more out of what was once referred to as ‘just an unfortunate event.’
*Hugs* back attcha 😉
I wish I could climb the highest mountain and read your post as LOUD as I could!! So they tell us we are strong…. that’s right, we have no other choice, but they have not seen us when our “armor suit” is taken off and we allow every emotion be emptied from our bodies….for we know in a few minutes, we have to put the face with a smile and carry on with daily things that need to be done. Strong? no I am strong, I have no other choice.
Thank youComment
Thank you for this, Paula. Beautifully said.
I developed a motto, in the course of my career, that “more than one thing can be true at once.” I had no idea how true that really was until my husband died ten years ago and I was left to learn to live without him. Gratitude and bravery became central to my survival too, and I, too, learned it is possible to be happy and sad at the same time. These lessons have helped me to appreciate life in a new way – not just appreciate what I lost, but to appreciate all that is.
Thank you Paula! You candidly articulated my grief journey too. We are kindred spirits.
I have much to learn, Paula. I lost my 26-year-old son just 6 months ago. I feel “only” strong, at this point. Courage, bravery, gratitude…these are to be aspired to, but hard for me to feel right now. I feel strong because I used to think if I lost one of my children, I would not be functional for a long time. I’ve gotten out of bed every morning (okay, except one) for 6 months and I never thought I’d be able to do that. The courage to feel joy for other young men my son’s age when they reach milestones my son will never see…I don’t have that. I think about the coming holidays, and don’t feel that I will be brave enough to do anything but just get through them. Gratitude. Yes, I am grateful for the 26 years I had my beautiful boy, but never can express it in my heart without following up with “but it’s not right for him to be gone before me!”
You are an inspiration, Paula. I thank you for giving me hope that I can someday feel deeper and more meaningful traits than just “strong”.
Thank you, Paula.. I haven’t lost a child but my husband a year ago.. I am also tired of hearing how strong I am… I’m not strong, I’m tired! It happened today at the grocery store.. And I realized she probably said that to help ease her guilt of not calling and going on with her life after the first few days… Life does get busy for everyone and how many times have I done the exact same thing?!? And please do not put me on a pedistal and say I’m your hero.. I do not want that pressure. I am making mistakes and messes you know nothing about.
I have worked hard to create this new life that I could never have imagined. I have many new friends that have been through life losses or did not know me before and they allow me to show emotions and rant when I need to with out thinking I’m going crazy or trying to fix me. I’m not broke- I’m healing you just can’t see my scars. I’m not strong- I just don’t quit. I’m not perfect- I’m making mistakes..
Love you!
Julie
So well said Julie. Thank you for your honesty and authenticity!
Paula, you are courageous, brave, humble, and amazingly grateful.
I admire you more than I could ever tell you.
Thank you for choosing to be courageous, brave, humble, grateful, honest and human. You bless my life and so many around you because of who you are.
Paula
Thanks for voicing what we all feel but maybe aren’t at a place to be able to verbalize. I lost a son to suicide almost 2 yrs. ago. It seems impossible to say it’s been that long since I’ve seen or talked to him. Everyone seems to have this admiration for what they call strength and I call just Survival. You’re right, when I really think about it I know deep down many see it as strength because they can’t imagine being able to stand much less function at all if they were in our shoes. I know I felt that way before being placed on this path. I amaze myself some days. Sometimes it’s moment by moment. A moment of courage to open the envelope that holds a graduation invitation from my son’s roommate and lifelong friend. A moment of bravery when I walked down the aisle at my daughter’s wedding escorted by my husband instead of my son, who I always expected to be there. I can’t say I’ve had that many moments of gratitude, not quite there yet, except that I am so incredibly grateful for being able to know, love and call Son, the amazing individual named Stephen for 19 yrs.