I know they just seem impossible right now, but try to remember that his folks are also grieving in their own way. Some people get this crazy desperate need to believe that they are THE ONES who loved the deceased the most. They do nutty exclusionary things to anyone who stands to “compete” with this “need.” I’ve seen it before and it can be incredibly destructive. The very people who should most be finding comfort with each other wind up in this dysfunctional competition that half of them don’t even know is happening. The other half are clawing their way through desperate to “win.” Even as a by-stander I have been stunned by it; I can’t imagine being the innocent party while dealing with crushing grief.
My best suggestion with any grief situation, is to “play audience.” Step back and pretend you are just the audience watching a performance, as opposed to the intended recipient of any words/behavior which don’t serve a positive purpose for you. Other peoples grief behavior can seem bizarre, and if it does then chances are ours seems bizarre to them as well. Try to be as tolerant as possible, and don’t hold grief behavior against people later on. Everyone should grant and be granted a “temporary insanity” pass at times like this.
Second letting the priest know who you are in advance of the service. You may even wish to make a quick phone call or visit today. He might just cut them off at the pass in his eulogy if he has time to work his thoughts into it.
If this isn’t a funeral mass, it’s likely that it is just that the priest will say at some point, “This Mass is being offered for the repose of the soul of John Shoe”. No big ceremony or anything else. Catholics have Mass said for all sorts of reasons, and there isn’t a big deal made of it, or compulsory attendance. His parents may not have even thought to invite others - it’s just a small thing. Hopefully nothing toxic was intended.
Not “at some point”, there is a specific moment where the Mass is offered “for the deceased faithful, and specifically for [Johnny Othershoe]”. Depending on how much the local priest loves his bureaucracy, setting that up can be just a matter of dropping by the sacristy right before Mass.
I missed this. I’m so sorry for the loss of your love, Johnny, purplehorseshoe.
My first husband died suddenly at home, so I have some idea of what you’re going through. It took me at least a month before I could cry. I went through the ordeal like a zombie.
It’ll hit, have no doubt. Meanwhile, just play-act the whole thing. People will say all the cliches, we’ve all done so, just nod and say thank you. They mean well. People do say: “You’re so strong” when tragedy arrives to others, they’re not aware that it’s not really strength, you have no choice to go through what you’re going through.
I understand that you are more of an introvert and need to be by yourself, but keep your friends as close as you can manage. Friends and loving family help give you strength for the days when it is needed.
Again, I am so sorry. I cried when I read your post, and I’m still crying. I wish I could give you a cup of tea or a hug.
Yah, what they said. Everyone faces the end a little differently. If you want to be mad at me, go ahead. I often say the wrong thing. Sorry I can’t be in Dallas tomorrow for the Mass.
When my mom died a few years back, there were some cousins at the wake/cremation…they WAILED and MOANED and carried on. They didn’t even know her that well, and they pretended to grieve so fiercely. (But they didn’t wait two weeks afterwards to ask my dad what happened to all her gold jewerly).
Me, I didn’t cry through most of it. Part of it was that I had duties, as Daughter of the Deceased, in a Hindu ceremony. Part of it was that we weren’t that close. Part of it was that I was just numb.
I’m sure they were judging me. I just didn’t care. When they put her in the box and pressed the button to burn her body it was like a damn burst, and when I think of that moment, I still want to cry.
Don’t let anyone judge you for how you handle your grief. All this happened so quickly that of course you’re still in shock. It’s OK to be a zombie. It’s OK to cry only in private.
Me and my husband are both thinking of you. When I told him about this thread, he said, “Oh, no, I really liked her.” He’s a lurker only, but he’s read some of your posts.
Be well, and you are in my thoughts. Dallas is a bit far, since we are in NY, but we will be there in our hearts.
When my father died my mother cried non-stop for weeks. To the point that her eyes became so inflamed that her eyeballs started to bleed. She was actually crying blood (until we quickly got her to the doctor). So who is right? Crying constantly? Crying alone? Not crying at all? There is no right answer, we all grieve in our own way. No way is better or worse than the other.
That is really scary and really sad. I don’t know why people feel the need to judge each other’s grief, of all things. Pain is so individual and everyone responds differently.
Ugh, yes. When my dad died unexpectedly when I was in college, it felt like some of my friends/acquaintances expected me to break down and cry in front of each of them, individually, or else obviously I was repressing my grief. I kept thinking fuck off, I’m not performing on demand for you, just to make you feel better.
No, it’s an acknowledgement that you’ve had one hell of row to hoe, and you’re still hoeing.* You feel weak because you’re wobbly and barely creeping along, we think you’re strong because you’re still upright and putting one foot in front of the other after a long series of blows that, taken individually, would knock a lot of folks down.
I’m very sorry for your loss, and if there’s anything I can do to help please don’t hesitate to ask.
*You have no idea how easy it is to make the world’s worst typo on that word.
It is sometimes how THEY are dealing with their own grief. At my mother’s funeral visitation I made a fool out of myself loudly chastising my uncle for laughing at some joke. I didn’t take into consideration that he was seeing old high school friends and family for the first time in years and after the grief there’s still some catching up to do. I wanted him to be openly weeping like I had been. I was so heartbroken I felt like everyone in the world should be grieving like I was.
I imagine I was seen as rude too, but there’s my reasoning anyway.
I didn’t mean to upset you. I was just thinking on the other threads and all you had been through together through this illness and it occurred to me that not everyone, including me, would necessarily have been as steadfast as you have been. To me that’s strength.
I’m not trying to attribute any motivation to purplehorseshoe, or to anyone else, but I think I can offer some insight: when my husband was injured in an on-duty car crash, several people commented to me that I was “strong,” and that they couldn’t imagine handling the situation as calmly. I inwardly rolled my eyes, because I didn’t think I merited the description*.
Looking back, though, I can see that I probably did appear to be calm and in control, because I had to be. Under high pressure situations, the lizard brain takes over. Non-essential functions, including analysis, are on the back burner. You talk to doctors and make medical decisions and feed children and buy dog food and pay the bills because that’s what you have to do. You’ll think about all of the implications later. It’s the same reason a small woman can pick up the car that fell off the jacks and onto her husband, or a soldier in combat can make sensible decisions while under fire, although not so dramatic. In my case, I remember, while getting dressed to go to the hospital, thinking “wear the leather jacket. Stains will wipe off. And grab the cash out of the emergency stash - hospital vending machines.” And then I made lame jokes with the deputy driving me to the hospital, because he was almost as tense and worried as I was, and I wanted to reassure him that he wouldn’t have to worry about a hysterical wife, along with his colleague. Time stretched out forever, and my thoughts were so clear and vivid, and falling apart just wasn’t an option right then. Too much important shit to handle. And I think most people would surprise themselves with how strong they can be when there’s no other choice.
*I chose the word “description” vs “compliment” because a few people certainly didn’t intend “strong” as a compliment. At least two other LEO wives seemed to think I was unfeeling and downright unnatural, because I wasn’t a weepy melodramatic mess, and my tendency toward gallows humor was on display. And really, I get what they meant: I think most of us who love someone in a dangerous profession have played the “how would I react” scenario in our heads. Reality doesn’t usually match our morbid imaginations.
I have found that when I’m sick enough, my judgement goes straight to hell and I won’t ask for help when I need it. There’s also some pride involved, I think: my mother-in-law was very, very ill about 3-4 years ago and was flat-out lying to us adult kids (we live 1000+ miles away), and was even deceiving her husband about how bad she was. Also refusing help when it was offered (like when he got her a walker).
If we’d known, we might have been able to intervene before she got quite as debilitated. Ultimately, my sister-in-law flew down for a long weekend and was able to bully her into getting help: she was hospitalized, got blood transfusions, spend 2 weeks in rehab, all to get into good enough condition to have the real problem (multiple myeloma diagnosed just after that) treated.
I don’t know why people feel the need to judge each other’s grief, of all things. Pain is so individual and everyone responds differently.