Being a psychology major in college, the stages of grief are pretty well etched in my mind: denial, anger, bargaining, depression, and acceptance. These stages aren't linear and a person can go back and forth between stages for as long as it takes to work through grief. I've always heard the anger stage is anger at God for allowing your loved one to die or at the person themself for dying leaving you alone in this world. But...what if the anger is towards yourself?
I've always thought of myself as a fairly emotional person. Empathetic, loyal to a fault, slow to anger (but once I'm there, I'm pretty steamed!), and one of those people that can't hold back tears. The more I try not to cry, the faster the tears come. It can be super annoying!
When I was a child, starting around the age of ten (that I can remember) I would go visit my mom in Arizona during the summer months. Sometimes I would stay a few weeks, sometimes a month or so, but I never wanted those visits to end. I don't know if it's because I knew I wouldn't see her again until the following summer, if I even saw her again (even as a kid, my mind tended toward the worst case scenario), or what but I would literally start crying days before I was scheduled to leave. At first, I would just cry in bed at night, counting down the days I had left, but by the actual day or two before, I would just flat out cry at the drop of a hat. I couldn't help it. The morning I was to leave, I would start crying as soon as my eyes opened and my mind registered what was happening that day. I would hardly be able to eat because of the knot in my stomach, and I would cry up until I boarded the plane or drove away in my dad's car. When flying, I was able to wait with my mom until the very last minute to board and I would just cling to her the entire time. When the final boarding call was announced, it took every bit of my will to put one foot in front of the other and find my seat. My head told me to keep moving while my heart screamed to run back to my mom, throw my arms around her, and never let go. It. Was. Brutal. I would cry the entire flight, during my layover, throughout the second flight and then I would try to pull myself together when getting ready to land because I didn't want my dad to think I wasn't happy to see him. I was. But gosh, I missed my mom so much already. After being met with hugs after getting off the plane, I would give an excuse of needing to use the bathroom so I could go in a stall and cry some more. The tears continued after I returned home, lessening as I got back into the familiar routine of my life in Wyoming. I know it hurt my dad's feelings that I cried so much about wanting to go back to my mom, but I just couldn't help it. I never understood why my older brother and stepsister never cried when it was their time to leave, I was always in awe of their ability to give a hug and a wave and walk away, dried eyed. I felt like such a baby and completely pathetic.
Fast forward to being an adult. I still cry at goodbyes, probably more than I should. But now, for some reason, my tears are sometimes delayed a day or two. I remember saying goodbye to a good friend and even though she cried, I was so proud of myself for giving a hug and walking away without a tear in sight. Then I woke up the next morning, the realization would hit me, and the tears would start. I cry on the last day of school every year, saying goodbye to the kids. Heck, I even cry sometimes when my littles go on vacation and I know I won't see them for a few weeks!
Knowing all that, I'm having the hardest time understanding why I can't cry about my dad's death. Sure, I've cried tears here and there, but never for more than a minute or two. I think about movies where someone finds out their loved one has died and they collapse to the floor or begin to wail loudly. I had none of that. I've not cried so hard and so long that my throat hurts, my eyes are all puffy, and I'm out of Kleenex. A few weeks ago, I was reading the end of a sad book and bawling my eyes out. I'm talking can't-hardly-breath, snot-flowing kind of sobbing and afterwards, I had the thought, "I never even cried that hard about my dad dying." I've not had the experiences of waking up in the morning and living in that blissful few seconds before I remember he's dead like others talk about. I recorded his voicemail message before turning of his phone, I can look at pictures of him and watch videos he's in and I feel absolutely nothing. For the first month or so after he died, I would sit in the back row of church on Sunday and cry throughout most of the service. I've not cried like that since. Was that the extent of my grief? I know it sounds stupid, but isn't he worth more tears than that?
Is there something wrong with me? Am I emotionally stunted in some way? My therapist and I have talked about how I look back at my relationship with my dad and don't have many regrets. We were on great terms when he died. He knew I loved him and I knew he loved me. So I don't have that grief that comes with wanting to go back and fix things or make amends. But I miss him, I miss him a lot. So many 'firsts' have happened without him and so many everyday events he would have been a part of. Isn't that worth some tears?
Why is it, as a child, I felt like such a baby because I couldn't stop crying but now, as an adult, I feel like a horrible person because I can't cry at all?
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