An Open Letter from a grieving mother
If I love you or am loved by you, I will answer you with love and will care that you care so deeply. But…
Dear friend who cares: Please. Please stop asking me if I’m ok. Kindly refrain from asking his brothers and his dad. I understand you don’t know…and part of me is happy for you that you don’t know how incredibly hurtful such a “caring” line can be right now…
“So, how are you guys doing?”
“Yes, but how are YOU doing?!”
These questions, I do realise, come from a kind place in your heart, but it makes me fight back tears. Middle of the day, at midnight, mid-laugh. Every single time. So please don’t ask. Find a way to connect about The Project, the upcoming Autumn weather I adore. Ask me how the universe is treating me…or how the planet has been in my neck of the woods.
There is no grief playbook, I know. Trust me, I fucking know.
I will say this now and then hopefully you read “Sitting with Tiernan” (there’s something in it for everyone, no matter how casually or deeply you knew him): Truth is I don’t know if I’ll ever be ok. So lies could ensue when you ask, “How are you?”
There is also no need to apologise, and I know this part seems contrary. It is not. And you don’t have to walk on eggshells around me. I won’t be pouring my heart out to you upon every sincere question. So no, neither grief nor death itself is contagious really. And I am still me.
I just can’t answer this for awhile. One day, someday, I will ask you how you are, and at that point in time I will likely be able to answer your question to me also.
My beautiful youngest son Tiernan passed away 4 months ago today. It feels simultaneously like his accident happened just yesterday, and that it was several years ago. A lot has happened and has been felt between then and now.
So I hope you forgive my slightly broken brain. My smiles are genuine and I am having a few more better days than I had before.
My good friend Oliver “Shiny” Blakemore says this all far more eloquently than I do.
I have written a lot about my son. Odes and Tributes and affirmations of love…please do read those stories and share them with anyone grieving, if you feel they may help. Every day is different and without a playbook it seems we need what understanding we can get; rare as they come.
Everyone keeps saying time will heal this pain. I don’t know – Seems about right. I do know that I’ll stop talking to you; I’ll stop thinking about your amazingness and will stop holding you in my heart someday; one day in the beginning of never ever
🦋🌀
Stay happy and healthy, my friends. I wish for you every happiness in the world.
- K
This is a story for a Grief Playbook that doesn’t exist…because each story is different, as is every day that we who grieve navigate a sea of emotions and numbness that come in waves.
