The 19
firefighters that perished in Arizona a couple of weeks ago have set off my grief-o-meter – the
made-up instrument where I compare my worthiness to grieve with someone else's.
It has come up several times since Gene's death: July 2012 Aurora, CO and the Batman movie shooting. December 2012 Newtown, Connecticut and the beautiful 26 children and teachers. April 2013 the Boston Marathon bombing. And now the firefighters.
Each time something like this comes up, I feel unworthy of grief. I had 15 years of a life some people never experience for 15 minutes. A life filled with the most incredible love, friendship, passion, nurturing, support and fun.
Some of the victims in Aurora hadn't really started their lives yet or got to experience love or marriage. Boston's victims the same stories. The children in Newtown were just babies. And the firefighters -- a few were months away from seeing their first child born and another firefighter had four children ages 6 and under.
It has come up several times since Gene's death: July 2012 Aurora, CO and the Batman movie shooting. December 2012 Newtown, Connecticut and the beautiful 26 children and teachers. April 2013 the Boston Marathon bombing. And now the firefighters.
Each time something like this comes up, I feel unworthy of grief. I had 15 years of a life some people never experience for 15 minutes. A life filled with the most incredible love, friendship, passion, nurturing, support and fun.
Some of the victims in Aurora hadn't really started their lives yet or got to experience love or marriage. Boston's victims the same stories. The children in Newtown were just babies. And the firefighters -- a few were months away from seeing their first child born and another firefighter had four children ages 6 and under.
Those children, those spouses, those parents, lovers, grandparents, they
all deserve to grieve -- and for as long as it takes. A year. A decade. A
lifetime.
Me? I got so much more than they did, I feel bad about feeling bad. It's been a year since Gene died, I should be on my way. And I am, and yet I wonder if I really am.
I've been told by some that I am just coming out of the shock. That my brain lets me remember only what my body can handle. Others tell me that I did the bulk of my grieving before Gene died. I loved him every day and, perhaps, in some way grieved him every day of the years we spent together (he was sick when I met him).
So which is it? Am I through the worst or haven't even started? Does it matter? I don't know. I only know that when I see a real tragedy, I feel guilty for feeling sorry for myself and for not bouncing back into life. "Those" people deserve to grieve, not me. I had time. I had love. I was happy beyond measure.
I know in my head that I deserve to take whatever time it takes. That nobody deserves their grief more than someone else. I just wish I could get my heart to feel the same way.
Me? I got so much more than they did, I feel bad about feeling bad. It's been a year since Gene died, I should be on my way. And I am, and yet I wonder if I really am.
I've been told by some that I am just coming out of the shock. That my brain lets me remember only what my body can handle. Others tell me that I did the bulk of my grieving before Gene died. I loved him every day and, perhaps, in some way grieved him every day of the years we spent together (he was sick when I met him).
So which is it? Am I through the worst or haven't even started? Does it matter? I don't know. I only know that when I see a real tragedy, I feel guilty for feeling sorry for myself and for not bouncing back into life. "Those" people deserve to grieve, not me. I had time. I had love. I was happy beyond measure.
I know in my head that I deserve to take whatever time it takes. That nobody deserves their grief more than someone else. I just wish I could get my heart to feel the same way.
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