"The Mask"

Meeting Grief at the Door

How do we handle our grief? How do we allow others to see inside our pain? We are all individuals with unique personalities and different strengths. However, most bereaved parents agree that they are deeply hurt and offended when others treat the tragedy of their child's death as if it were a skinned knee or broken bone. Particularly when an infant has died, there is an urging to educate the public. Some people mistakenly think that a mother or father's love can be measured by the amount of time we had with our child. Some try to pro-rate our pain, insinuating that the younger the child, the "less attached" we feel. Bereaved parents know that this is the furthest from the truth. It is no less painful to lose a one year old than a ten year old: or no less painful to lose a one year old that a one month old. Love simply doesn't work that way.
Parents struggle to fit in the day to day routine they once knew. Soon enough, we discover that we have moved out of our familiar bodies. We were evicted by grief. We have new minds, bodies and spirits now. As we struggle to acquaint ourselves with the person we have become, we learn to fit it by wearing what I term "the mask." Below are some ideas on how you can meet your grief, and the new person you are. Taking care of yourself right now should be a priority. The journey you have embarked upon is long and treacherous. Remember, if you want people to know who you REALLY are now, you must gradually learn to remove your mask. Vulnerable as it may seem, it is the only way they can begin to climb into your skin and understand in a small way the depth of your pain.

The Mask

I feel as if I am buried alive
Yet I smile and respond with "Fine, thank you."
I have been appropriately conditioned, like fine leather
That no one wants to hear the painful truth.

An essential part of me, a limb
A constituent of my earthly being
Has been violently amputated.
Yet I laugh at the mediocre conversations
A verbal splash in a shallow puddle
Pretending to be a player of the words
That no longer have meaning.

My heart has been ripped from my bosom
No benevolence granted
No explanation
No apologies
Only cataclysmic pain
Only agony
No anesthesia remains, just the bitter pain.
Yet I wear the mask
Day to Day.

Pretending I fit in
But really I'm a foreigner to this new land
An alien language they speak.
And as I attempt to translate the words
Still, they mean nothing to me.

Sequestered in the mask
They hear not the music I dance to
Nor the words I speak
Nor the pain I echo
Nor the native language of my eyes
They will never really know me, behind the mask.

Dear Cheyenne © 1996 revised 1998 by Joanne Cacciatore


Knock Knock...Grief's Here

We must meet our grief. We must know him like a familiar neighbor. If we meet him, know him, and get through to him, we will become victorious in our battle with him. Yes, the overwhelming grief is frightening, angering, frustrating and relentless. But ultimately, he is our friend. Our grief knows that the life of our child is worth all of this pain.

Sleep:
Give yourself plenty of time to rest. Grief drains your emotional battery and you will need to recharge more often. If you simply don't want to get out of bed in those early stages of grief, then don't!

Exercise:
Take walks or work out: jog, aerobics or a spring-cleaning week will do as well. Physical exertion is a great stress reliever and may afford you some time alone to gather your thoughts in the process.

Be Patient with YOU:
Grief plays funny tricks on the mind for months, years after the death of your child. You may be unpredictable and your emotions unstable. It is completely normal to experience this. Know that you may be more irritable than normal. Concentration may be a difficult task. The way past the depth of early grief is straight through.

"Have you come to the Red Sea place in your life
Where there is no way back, no way out
The only way is Through?"


Talk with Real Friends:
Some parents feel as if their friends have become strangers to them. Paradoxically, strangers become friends. Bereaved parents should seek out others, through support groups, church groups, family or within the community, who can relate to them. If you are uncomfortable in a group situation, take yourself out. This is your cross to carry and you must get through this pain however you are most comfortable.

Keep a Journal:
This is self-therapy for the grieving.

Cry, cry, cry:
Tears are very healing. You don't have to cry in front of others if it inhibits you. However, sometimes in the deepest of grief, it helps to cry with another person present. Not for the purpose of "saving" you, or comforting you, but merely as a witness to the depth of the pain. It is likely after visualizing the agony of your grief, they will be more understanding and supportive through this journey. Even though this deep grief is a death-like experience, when you cross to the other side of the pain, your fundamental attitude will be healthier and more real.

Claim your feelings:
Don't be afraid to admit your emotions. There will likely be a wide range of them, from anger to sorrow to hope. Feelings are not right or wrong: they just are. Have faith in yourself and trust your emotions. Value the grief work you are doing and learn to discover what methods are the most effective for self-therapy.

Avoid Major Changes:
This is not the time for environmental upheaval in your life. Wait until the first few months of grief have passed before making life-altering decisions.

Don't expect to get over it:
When people say, "Go on with your life," you may respond, "I'm still here, aren't I?" You do live on, you will be happy again and you will survive. But you probably will never get over it. It is a gentle and gradual acceptance that happens over many years. You learn skills necessary to help you handle the pain.

If you need private therapy, go get it!
If your grief has left you feeling suicidal (planning to commit suicide)
If you have prolonged periods (more than one week at a time) of a change in sleep patterns
If you have prolonged periods of a change in appetite
If you have recurrent dreams which make it difficult for you to function daily
If you are currently attending a grief support group and you feel it is not enough

Please go get professional help from a grief therapist. One on one support can act as an enormously beneficial catalyst to healing grief.

Commemorate your child's life
Remembering your child will help you to heal. Ideas to commemorate your child's life include:
  • Plant a tree in your yard or at a local park. Many parks and recreations program will even include a bronze dedication plaque if dedicated in a local park.
  • Adopt a street on behalf of your child.
  • Participate in the Kindness Project
  • Have a family candlelight memorial service for your child on special occasions.
  • Write letters to your child.
  • Collect angels or another favorite item. Make sure item holds a special meaning, perhaps purchased on a special day such as your child's birthday or Mother's/Father's Day. Write the date on the bottom of the item.
  • Make a shadowbox of your child and place it in a special area of your home where you will be able to share it with visitors.
  • Create a special tape of songs which remind you of the love you have for your child, now and always.
  • Have a video tape professionally done of photographs of your child with your favorite songs in the background.
  • Begin the tape with a letter or poem you wrote to your child.
  • Decorate your child's grave and other children who are "neighbors" at the cemetery.
  • Donate books on infant loss and infant grief to your local libraries and support groups. Include a Kindness Card in each book in memory of your child.
  • Take out an ad in your local paper for special days. Write a simple message commemorating your child and what he or she meant to your family.
  • Send out Christmas cards remembering your child. This year, our cards read...
    "Like the gentle unseen breeze, the presence of those loved and lost remains with us always."
    In Memory of Cheyenne,
    The Cacciatore Family
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Dear Cheyenne © 1996 revised 1998 by Joanne Cacciatore
© 1997, 1998 Web design by Heather Farrier. In loving memory of my son, Aaron Lee Farrier.