The River of Denial

Sometimes, it is difficult to get through this grieving thing. It’s not like people encourage me to trudge up the steps along the bereavement path. In fact, I’m more likely to hear encouraging words such as, “You should just get over it,” or “It’s been six years. Time to get on with your life.”

At first, I wanted to sharpen my knives and carve the smiles off the faces of such well- wishers. Having landed somewhat precariously on the other side of the water, I now understand that most people would rather swim in the river of denial than face up to the pain that the grieving process entails. They don’t want to mention Nik’s name or talk about him. Although these activities bring me comfort and help me swim across my river of grief, it causes them discomfort and forces them to confront the missing. It makes them cry.

To me, the tears I shed for Nik honor his memory, and wash my pain clean. I have accepted that these tears are simply a piece of the puzzle, and in order to find the missing pieces and put myself back together, healthy, happy, and whole, I have to dive in and confront the dark emotions that cause discomfort and tears.

I will continue to honor my son in song, in prose, in poetry, and in tears. I actually feel sorry for those that take the easier and softer way, floating on the placid waters of denial. Although the grieving process can cut like a rusty razor blade, the grieving process has forced me to grow up, and shifted my perceptions like the reflections created by a kaleidoscope. I see the world in full color, am more likely to cry, but also, am more likely to laugh.