I’ve discovered with Rand’s passing that grief has many faces, shows up in many different ways and comes and goes with varying impact – even long after you think it should still bother you. It was two years this March and many days it’s easier to deal with; the grief is well-worn in and doesn’t hurt so sharply. Yet other days, it claws at you from the inside out, seemingly random and sudden, shredding your heart into tatters. Still other days, it’s subtle and deep and this vast, aching sorrow that tints your world in indigo and black, making it hard to breathe and weighing you down like gravity just tripled.
As my birthday inches closer, I find it also shows up in selfish ways too.
Now, I love Love. We’ve been together 13 1/2 years, I love wearing my engagement ring because it helps show the world we are united and I can’t wait for us to be married. But, one thing Love is not is a planner. He’s just not good at taking initiative for planning an event or surprise. It’s just not “in his wheelhouse” as they say. But, see, Rand was really good about that sort of thing.
For my 30th birthday, it was Rand who took the initiative to book a reservation months in advance at a very popular restaurant in WDW, plus order a specialty cake to be served after the meal. It’s not that Love wouldn’t do that sort of thing but he just wouldn’t think to do it ahead of time as required and plan out the logistics of advance schedules and such. Rand would always start brainstorming a month before a holiday or birthday for gift ideas. Like, we’d discuss what we were going to do for Love’s birthday or such, often going in together to get a larger gift. He did the same with Love for my birthday, going in together on a camera and such, knowing it was something I really wanted.
Which leaves me 15 days from my birthday today and really sad. I’m sad that Rand isn’t here anymore to help make my 35th birthday special; that he’s not going to help ensure Love remembers to schedule something and tackle the small details. Then I feel guilty for feeling this kind of “selfish grief” because I think, really? you’re upset that your birthday might suck? your friend is dead so have a little decency and stop thinking of yourself.” I even debated writing this at all because I was afraid people would think I was horrible for feeling this way.
But it’s not that I am sad really about gifts or dinner reservations. It’s more that I’m sad because Rand was so thoughtful. He was always so good about thinking about others and it was really part of him to go above and beyond for those he cared about. And I miss that. That quintessential Rand-ness. I miss how he always took time and care towards friends and family. I miss how he always made the people in his life a priority. I miss his good and kind heart. I miss his generous nature and how he always got enjoyment out of bringing joy to others.
I’m just really depressed right now. I have no motivation, it’s hard for me to even get up and get dressed. I’m so overwhelmed with money issues and there are so many things I need and want and have to find money for and I just don’t know where any of it’s coming from. Then my birthday is coming up and it makes me sad because we don’t have any money and I know Love didn’t sock away cash over the past few months and book us a weekend getaway or save money for a nice dinner or anything so I feel like it’s going to be a big, depressing day and then I think about Rand and that makes me sad too and the whole thing just rolls together into this giant ball of sadness, grief and depression.
I’m just a total wreck right now and it’s like when my spirits are already low, the grief finds cracks to come through and strike at me again. I’m just so tired of struggling so hard with finances and money and bills and it’s been 11 months now of near non-stop money worries. It’s such relatively small amounts of money but to me, it’s like Everest. There’s just no way for me to reach the top and get past it all because I can’t even get caught up.
I’m sick of trying to put on a good face; a positive attitude and act like I’m not just crumbling apart. So in selfish ways, I miss that my best friend isn’t here to help cheer me up.
2 thoughts on “Selfish Grief”
You aren’t stupid, or selfish, or weak. Grief is a nasty little snotball that lurks in the corners and punches you in the gut at the grocery store. At work. At places that should be happy like Disneyland (or similar) but can’t be, because you’re thinking too much about who you’ve lost.
I’m going to use familiar terms, because my words are not working with me right now. (I’m not trying to be weird; I just want to say something and these are the only words I have. Forgive me?)
Honey, you aren’t stupid. You’re not selfish. You lost your best friend two years ago. That’s not a long time ago, and even if it were, grief is just the snotball to punch you in the gut 20 years on.
(I know, I lost my dad 20 years ago, and it still happens.)
It gets better, but not because you never cry. It can’t get better if you don’t cry. You have to let yourself feel this. You need it to get better.
Do better than I did. I didn’t cry, and now I don’t know how to. Love yourself enough that you let the tears through.
I cry with music. That might work better if you can’t cry, or crying makes you sick.
Wait for the safe place to do it, but make sure you give yourself one. It’s really mega important.
*hugs you* Don’t give up on the important person you are. <3
Thank you for your words. It helps to not feel so alone in this, like knowing it’s not abnormal or whatever is comforting.
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