Am I a pushover parent? Grief sometimes wins.
Mourning the loss of a loved one, the end of your marriage or even the loss of a friendship all carry similarities of grief. Each is as unique as the person you’ve lost, but all grief carries the same traits. I devoted an entire chapter of my book, So You’re Divorced, So What?, to this concept. I walked through the stages of grief and offered my suggestions on how to move through them, but one important thing to consider is this: You don’t get over grief, you get through it. It’s not something that you deal with once and never to feel that loss again. It’s not linear and it never really makes sense. It’s fluid and flows like the waves in the ocean. Sometimes gentle and other times viscous and brutal. Each and every person will grieve their loss differently than the next.
I’ve shared before how difficult it’s been for me to attempt to guide my son through the loss of his friend at 7 years old to brain cancer, but honestly, in all my parenting years, this has been the challenge that keeps on giving. How do you do that exactly? Each year that passes, we process a little more and in different ways. Today marks the anniversary of the day Brock left us. This year, he stayed home from school and last year he was ready to be with other friends. Again, not linear. Today, he has spent the morning watching a sweet Christmas movie, he took a break from reality in some video games, went outside to shoot his pellet gun and we built a fort for the little girls in this house to enjoy this afternoon. He’s such a sweet boy. Kind, thoughtful and still missing his friend and struggling how to process the sad.
I typically try to follow my kids lead. I give them more grace than others think is necessary. It may appear that they rule the roost or call the shots, but like I tell them, I’m the one steering this ship. They may have more leniency with me than other moms allow for backtalk and general disrespect, but here’s what I know. There is no manual with parenting. Sure, I’ve read my share of parenting books from experts, but at the end of the day, no book, advice or even the child before them could ever adequately prepare me for parenting the child in front of me in that moment. What works for one of my children, doesn’t necessarily work for the next. So, I take all the advice in, absorb all the information I can and then take my kids’ lead on what they need from me.
I did read in a parenting book about divorce long ago that children will act out more with mom than anyone else because they know to the core of their being that unconditional love resides with their mom. They know without being told that no matter what they say or do, Mom will always love them. She is their safe space to release the emotions that are scary or don’t make sense. Have you heard it said that kids don’t say “I’ve had a rough day”, but instead they ask “will you play with me?” I don’t know how much I’ve actually believed this, but in the past two decades of parenting, I have done my best to remind myself of that in moments when they are having an outburst, even when it looks like I’m being soft or too lax to others watching me. It has given me the chance for an extra breath and take pause before reacting. The other day, I called my youngest daughter on it in a moment of exceptional sassiness. I asked her why she was so rude to me and not other people. She actually said, “because you’re my mom. I know you still love me.”
When it comes to helping my son navigate this grief process, that has meant that some days, I allow him to avoid his feelings altogether. Other times, I prod gently to encourage him to feel the sadness in tiny bits at a time. When we first told him about his friend going to heaven, his first words were “so, they didn’t find a cure?” It broke my heart - a child’s innocence and belief in the impossible shattered in an instant. When we pushed a little too hard to talk about it, he would come back with “It’s just too sad.” So, on the anniversaries and important days, I let him get lost in video games or stay home from school. I follow his lead. Even if this means he is taking advantage of the situation to avoid school that he hates. I’ll give him this pass because, you know what? His friend died and I can’t bring him back or take away his sadness no matter how many times I pray to God to let have his sadness instead. I can handle so much heartbreak and pain. I won’t break. I know I can survive it, but watching him hurt is worse than all the pain I’ve endured before now.
If you’ve navigated this territory and have any advice, please comment below. I’m sure I speak for others who are reading when I say, we are all ears. I may coach women how to grieve the loss of their divorce, but I feel out of my territory with this one, still, four years later.