Good Grief

This isn’t a tribute to Charlie Brown. I feel like I should be honest about that from the start since my title is Charlie’s signature line. This post is about something I’m going through and will continue to deal with for a very long time as I mourn the sudden loss of my dad nearly nine months ago. This post might make you uncomfortable but I hope it will also help at least one person.

Grief is hard. It is exhausting. I don’t wish it upon anyone. Grief teaches you things you’d rather not know and in a surprising way, grief has reminded me how lucky I am.

I realize the words grief and good don’t really go together. Most of what I feel is really bad. But I’ve seen the good in so many others who love me and want to help me, that I’m being forced to acknowledge on my worst days, there may still be some good left in me too. You see, when you hurt, you start to feel like maybe you will never stop hurting. You feel in adequate. I am in that place right now. People tell me that one day I will find a way to think about my dad and while there will always be sadness, it won’t be with the deep sorrow I feel right now. At first I smiled politely but inside I was screaming, “LIAR!” These crazy people just don’t want to deal with this non mascara, unsmiling version of Cassie. They want me to be “normal” again. I have calmed down quite a bit and understand that no one was lying to me. Their honesty came from personal experience. They were feeling their own pain and grief again in an attempt to help me.

My friends have helped me keep my head above water and I would list every single kind gesture and person right now but I know I’d forget too many.  Being my friend has not been the easiest task. Let’s be honest folks, sad people are not fun to be around. We cry at the worst times and are self absorbed. We wonder how we are supposed to shop for groceries when we could less if we even eat. So in step friends and family with meals. Two very special friends would tell me what time to be at their house so our kids could play together and they could make sure I didn’t become a hermit. 

The good of others has kept me from crawling in a hole and never getting out. I’m not saying it won’t still happen. But at least the hope that there is more good than bad out there waiting for me will give me the strength to keep going.

 

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2 thoughts on “Good Grief

  1. My chest tightened, along with my throat. My eyes filled to the point of the screen becoming blurry. And you know, it is all good, because God made it so. Thanks Cassie… for sharing and caring. Love ya.

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