empathy

I am kicked back on my chaise lounge chair and the ocean breeze is blowing on my face.  I am in the middle of a much-needed vacation in Playa Del Carmen.  Lunch was fabulous except for the raw clam that I couldn’t choke down.  I used to like them but I just can’t do it anymore.

My husband went back to the bar and the boys are tending to a phone call.

The warmth is intense and I am filling full filled

“Lisa-He killed himself”

“no, no he didn’t”

The phone call had brought unbearable news.

We sit in silence.  I find the boys, they aren’t boys I just call them that.  My son and his friend are grown, they are seated in the sand, bent over, crying.

The pain of seeing your adult child broken-hearted is gut wrenching

We muted our grief the next three days.  It is still there and can be felt but we press on.  I know what is in store and I hate it.

Grief will run its course and I will be consumed with painful empathy.

The things the outside world will misinterpret.

forgetfulness, fatigue, loss of appetite, over indulging, poor self-care.

sadness, anger, denial, guilt and guilt and guilt.

I wish I could do it for them.

I am sickened with the thought of how his parents will feel.  How long the process is.  How you have days you can’t get out of bed, you can’t breathe, can’t survive.  I pray they do because some don’t.

I hope that someday they can find a way up and out.  That they can use their trauma to empower themselves for growth, empathy, and supporting others.   I know that some can’t.

I hope that the boys can process it as healthy as possible.  That they don’t internalize their pain and let the guilt go.

That they continue to love and nurture others.  That they can someday find the strength to talk about it and use their voices to create change.   I know that many don’t.

Check on your people, love them hard, hold them, and help them if possible.

If you are concerned ask and ask again and again and again.