STORYTIME – Dead Parents Society

I am no stranger to grief. I’ve lost all of my grandparents, my godfather, aunts and uncles, cousins, first love, and friends. I was in a school shooting at the age of 16. I’ve experienced abuse at the hands of family and boyfriends. I’ve built up coping mechanisms that make me appear ‘hard’ and ’emotionless’. The running joke in my family was that my tear ducts were broken. 

I remember when Uncle died, watching his children go through this indescribable pain. I too was in pain, but it didn’t seem to last as long. Each death I’ve experienced has been painful of course. I couldn’t understand why years after he passed my cousins were still struggling so hard. 

When I found out my mom was terminal I put on my Crisis Pants and handled the situation. My goal was to protect my brother and Auntie, take care of Mom’s affairs and arrangements, and keep it together. I kept my emotions in check for the most part, crying was to a minimum. My mother didn’t need to worry about me on top of everything else she was going through (who am I kidding – OF COURSE she worried about me and Bubba!). My brother has always been more emotional than me, in a manly metal way. I knew he would need me to be strong. Poor Auntie was always an emotional wreck, she wore everything right out there on her sleeve. I function well in crisis. Once the crisis has passed, sometimes I break down, but I usually keep everything nice and bottled up. 

When Mom died nothing made sense. Down was left, up was right, I was in a daze. The tears WOULD. NOT. STOP. I couldn’t snap out of it. I handled the business I needed to handle but as soon as the responsibility was over I lost control. I was informed by a fellow Sorrow Sister that I am now in this Club. I never asked to join this godforsaken club! The dues are too high and you can never leave! 

I gave myself 90 days to get it together. I returned to work 3 weeks after she died, I made sure Auntie was taken care of in Arizona, I checked in on my brother regularly, I did the Crisis Pants thing to do. But the second I was alone, all hell broke loose. I was sad and angry. I hated Timothy for no reason at all. I hated anyone who had their mother around still. I hated Gilmore Girls, how dare Rory not treasure Lorelai, how dare Lorelai not treasure Emily! 

90 days came and went. I still couldn’t snap out of it. I started to realize this may be a longer process than I thought. I connected with others who lost a parent, who were in this Club. I felt a better connection and understanding with my cousins. I started remembering my mother on Christmas mornings, alone in the kitchen teary eyed. She was connecting with her mother who died when I was 3. She was in the Club and I didn’t even know it. That’s the thing, you don’t know who is in the Club, there’s no members jacket. There’s no badge. No one talks about it. It’s secret and elite, although no one wants to join, they just end up there. It’s inevitable, we will all be in the Club one day. You won’t get it until you’re in it.