Michael797

He would have been 20 tomorrow. Next week he'll be gone six months. It's not true that there are no words, there are plenty. They all begin with "fuck". So how's things with you?

As sort of promised, here's a sample of the aforementioned work, which has sort of grown to nearly fifty pages now. It's still rough, obviously, but I'm out of smooth edges. Warnings about enjoyment are probably unnecessary. PRE-RAMBLE Time and technology have, in remarkable ways, advanced the cause of helping humans to survive the catastrophic loss of someone close to them. Hordes of books, lists, words of advice, prayers, and other anthologies of consolation are readily available to anyone at the push of a few buttons (provided you can figure out where the buttons are). There are also plenty of places that someone attempting to help a grieving friend or family member can find useful information to assist in recovery. Having said all that, the work that you are reading does NOT provide answers, comfort, or solace in any way, any usefulness of the information that follows to help someone who is mourning a loved one is purely coincidental. So there’s that. Further, the author wishes to warn anyone unfortunate enough to be reading this diatribe that the rants, pathos, bombast, and despair contained herein do NOT intentionally reflect the feelings and thoughts of other bereaved people. It’s a simple fact that if a bereaved person somehow finds something relatable in the pages of this book, it is either an unholy coincidence or a clear sign that they are not doing very well at all. Lucky breaks were hard for me to come by even in those halcyon days of pre-bereavement. I did not lead a charmed life by anyone’s definition. I really only experienced two genuinely positive breaks late in my life; the first was when my son was born. The second was when I met the woman who would become my fiancée. Neither of them are around anymore. Any illusions of recovery from losing my fiancée were snatched away by the death of my son less than three years later. What do you suppose that might do to someone who was already pretty unstable to begin with? A smart person would take this opportunity to shut this book like a cheap window, punch up IHeartRadio on your favorite device, and put “Wind Beneath My Wings” in a repeating queue if they were looking for something resembling comfort. So why does this book exist in the first place? I’ll admit that, with so many people trying to survive genuinely acute and piercing pain, the world really didn’t need an angry, crazy old codger spewing bullshit about how the world and everyone in it was the source of endless horror. I was truly leaning toward just abandoning altogether any idea of a book and spending the rest of my now-few days simply crawling toward an overdue demise. Shortly after I had made the decision to give up the project, I had a conversation with a widowed friend of mine about a cousin of hers who committed suicide. He was in his 20’s and, for all appearances, had a great deal going for him. The suicide came literally out of nowhere. He had taken an apartment in a high-rise development; one day he crawled out of a window and quietly leapt to his death. The family was, as could be expected, in shock and profoundly devastated. Their lives were likewise demolished; no longer able to feel happiness or excitement toward anything that used to be part of their lives, they now simply stumble quietly from moment to moment, likely unwilling or unable to handle anything that might invite further angst. Bereaved folks know that feeling pretty well. It was the stumbling quietly that pushed me over the tipping point. I decided that, like it or fuck it, the world was indeed going to get an angry, crazy old codger spewing bullshit about how the world and everyone in it was the source of endless despair after all. You can ignore me and this book all you wish, of course. For me, this is one final, pointless gesture to serve as a reminder to anyone unfortunate enough to come across this book that life isn’t all Jesus and Disney for everyone. Finally, for anyone who thought that the author deserved, for whatever reasons, to suffer eternal torment for his past actions toward them, I trust you will take satisfaction from knowing that your wishes have been granted. You know who you are; hope you’re happy. For the rest – it’s your world, not mine anymore. Frankly, I don’t really care what you do with it. But people who have suffered such acute loss shouldn’t have to pay my karmic debts. This book is a cautionary tale, nothing more. If you've never felt like this and never want to, good for you. I hope you somehow avoid the hell I found myself in.

Update on the project: Yesterday marked the three-year sadiversary of losing my fiancée, and next week will be the three-month sadiversary of losing my son (kinda interesting how the symmetry sort of happened, ain't it?). It's been a while since my last post, sorry. As so many of you already know, things often get really really worse in the life of a BP, and that's what's been happening here of late. Apologies for lack of responses to PMs as well. This post is an attempt to address my social failures of the past several weeks. My son's mother has made arrangements with his school to provide an annual scholarship for some needy student to be awarded in my son's name. If nobody has any serious objections, I'd like to publish the results of this project on Amazon as an eBook with proceeds going to the scholarship in an attempt to keep my son's candle burning for as long as I can. Acknowledgements are due to Jenni, who has graciously provided me the opportunity to house-sit at her place while she's taking her family on a vacation. As a result of the solitude, I've managed to get twenty-seven pages written for the aforementioned booklet/project. Later on this week, I will attempt to offer up an excerpt to you folks so you can see where the whole thing is headed. Additional thanks to Monique and TS for their contributions, whether intentional or accidental. If any of you three feel you should be entitled to a percentages of the profit (unlikely as the concept of profit may be, given the work), please let me know and I will accommodate. Regardless, I can't help but feel grateful to the community in general for letting me get away with so much bullshit for the past three years. I cannot attempt to do your kindnesses any justice with the crap I'm going to publish; rest assured that I wouldn't dream of speaking for any of you. That's a promise.

For those of you who acknowledged today's two-month sadiversary in one form or another, thank you for remembering.

jgib, sorry for your losses as well. We all know only too well that death happens, but he seems to perform his job with monstrous glee sometimes, doesn't he? I will say this - if one more person thinks that they're helping by insisting I'm still a father, I'm going to start screaming and not stop for a very long time. That's one holiday that doesn't have a shred of meaning anymore. Given your score, I can only guess you're still very much embroiled in the struggle. If it helps, by all means, take whatever light was allotted to me - it appears I won't be needing it anymore in this lifetime. May it serve you better.

Wish you were here. Love always, Dada

Thank you, Bunny, Jen, and Hachi. I'm still very much monitoring the thread, and your suggestions remind me that you all have entirely too much experience with this. Week 6 and I feel like a Ping-Pong ball in a dryer with no idea of how to proceed from here. Knowing that someone out there is paying attention helps. I can tell you that I expect to go through a roomful of therapists before this all plays out. An acquaintance of mine has a friend who claims to be psychic. She's been bugging me with "important news." I finally got a hold of her and she told me her psychic friend wants me to know that she's been in touch with my son and he wants me to know that he loves me. I told her I have a mechanical Elmo in storage who will say the same thing whenever I push his stomach. Long and hard is the way from darkness to light.

Quick update: this project is still alive (so to speak), but rather than a pamphlet, it's probably going to grow into a booklet, with a page for each numbered item. There's still more than enough time to submit suggestions. It's understandable that you might be hesitant to open up old wounds, but if there's something you went through that we're missing, please feel free to add it to our list. It's hard to imagine we've covered everything already. Feel free to PM or post if you'd like to contribute one of your bad experiences with the living. It just seems rude to go mining the other threads for that without permission. I will say that the other day my mother looked me directly in the eyes and hissed "You have no idea what grief really is." Yeah, that wasn't helpful at all, mom.

Listeners: thanks for your responses. To those of you who are moving past, our heartiest congrats. For those of you who are fresh or stuck - well, we get that. We've been off the air of sorts lately. Many of you know why; for those that don't, I'll try to explain. Let's say (Trump forbid) that you had your child (or significant other) with you in a public place. You turn your back for just a second to ask a question or something. You turn back around - they're gone. So you go through the usual shock, disbelief, "This isn't funny, come out right now!" sort of stuff. You look for someone to help you find them. That isn't working; your companion is nowhere to be found. The graphic details of the aftermath are left to your imagination at this point. Let's just say that the first month, you're in complete denial of what's happening. This simply couldn't be your new reality; you hold out hope that this is just some sort of tragic joke and your child (etc.) will be returned to you in the name of justice. By the second month, it's starting to sink in. This isn't a joke at all, it's your new reality. Most folks would agree that after the shock wears off, the unbearable horror sinks in. After the first month it gets way worse. So imagine this scenario, but take away the hope - because you realize you'll never see them again. That's kind of what it's like right now. Now imagine being the mother of that child. You get the idea. So it seems pretty stupid to keep posting updates to that sort of horror. It couldn't possibly be of help to anyone coming to this board looking for answers, could it? That's why we're dark right now - in every conceivable way. Sorry for the static. I'm still doing PMs here and there. Sorry for any delays in them. I hope you understand. But I'm still working on the manifesto in the other thread, in case you still want to contribute. An update to that thread is scheduled for a few minutes from now.

Thank you for the feedback, Monique - I guess you would know. They'll be included, maybe added to, if that's ok.

Listeners, old and new - Radio Hell wants your assistance. We have to take a few days away from the station because life and stuff. But since our little mental hamster wheels never ever stop spinning, we've begun work on a project that, if all goes relatively well, maybe Jess will agree to post in the "Please Read" group or something. Usually bereaved folks don't like to do a lot of talking in the beginning; as a result, non-grievers will become confused as to what they can do to be of help. It might be a nice idea to have sort of a "manifesto" to shove under their noses to clear up the confusion. That's what this project is about, an attempt to create some sort of action plan for those who hope to take care of the bereaved. Be advised that this is a really really really rough draft that lacks the usual polish and pathos that you've come to expect from a RH transmission. That's where you come in. Please either PM or submit suggestions, amendments, deletions, snark-free alternatives (although we hate those, we'll suck it in if necessary), or other comments that would best represent YOUR wishes during this oh-so-delicate time. What do YOU wish people would say or do? What do you wish people would avoid saying or doing? Now's your chance. We'll make a second or third pass through the doc once we get some feedback, then we'll see if a POINT to our grief could actually be made. Thanks in advance for everything. Here it comes: ------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------ So you wanna help someone through the grieving process, do you? Here are a few things you’ll need to know up front: 1. The person you thought you knew has left the building. There’s bits of the old person in there, but they’re currently drowning in grief and are in no position to act like the old “them” right now. They don’t want to have to act for anyone. You may not recognize them; you may even panic about this. You’ll have to get over that for their sake. 2. This is not about you! Actually, nothing about this is about you. Your BP (bereaved person) is dealing with an enormous hole in their life. This is not a good time for you to have any selfish inclinations whatsoever. Their well is dry, and there’s no way of knowing when it will start to fill up again. If that’s a problem, then leave the BP to someone more selfless. Seriously. Do not go into this looking for personal gain or recognition; they don’t have it to give. Do not hope to be the one to “cure” them. Your job will be to listen without judgement. 3. They may shock you with things they say. You have to be ready. You may not recognize the person talking to you. This is not a sign that they’ve turned evil. They're really lost right now and will be for quite a while. 4. Talking about “time” is worthless. A second is a thousand years right now, especially in the first year or two. You will be very mistaken if you think there’s some magical time limit to their grief. Maybe you’re on a schedule, but theirs has been destroyed. You’ll need to accept and respect that. If you can’t, you won’t be helping. 5. It’s a given that if you ask “How are you?” they’ll either lie and say they’re fine, or they’ll tell you the truth. The truth may include a huge meltdown right in front of you. "How they are" is much worse than you can imagine. There really isn't any need to ask. 6. The vast majority of BPs are going to shun the spotlight. This is not a good time to throw a party for them. 7. Anything can trigger them. They’re about as raw as a nerve can get. You may say or suggest something that sets off a memory of the BP’s departed. Tell them you’re sorry and listen to their explanation of why it set them off; there’s a very good chance they’ll forgive you. Forgive them for having a whole bunch of stuff to learn all over again. 9. They may have other reality-based problems to deal with. Their financial and security situations will probably have changed, frequently for the worse. If you can help with that, great; if you can’t, maybe find someone who can. That would be very kind of you.

Um... shit, our cover's blown. Just think of it, TS - what could say "Welcome home!" quite like a house full of pathologically grief-stricken folks playing Uno in your dining room? Fine, we'll wait. It's what we do. Just get home safely, ok?

What the hell, one more. From January 2015 - and this one's interactive! Ten Things You Can Say to Someone Who Thinks You're Spending too Damned Much Time on the Widda Board: 1. I’m doing my best to work through the grief – why don’t you work on sympathy? 2. There’s nearly 1,500 of us here; do you really want to piss that many people off? 3. At least on the board, people actually LISTEN. 4. If you have any ideas on how to beat death, now’s a good time. 5. You’re right – let’s sit around and listen to love songs. 6. Ever wonder what it’s like to drown while other people are swimming circles around you? My life is kinda like that. 7. I think things are going to be about ME for a while; does that not fit in your agenda? 8. At least I’m not as bad as that guy on the Radio Hell thread. 9. No matter what time limit you set, I’m going to need to extend it. 10. Here’s a quiz; why don’t you watch me take it? https://psychcentral.com/quizzes/grief-quiz.htm Maybe we should post our scores like those mattress commercials do. I got a 66.

For Monique and anyone else who's listening. Cobbled together from bits first posted January of 2015: 1. Here’s the problem. You were intending on spending the rest of your life with this person because he or she taught you what love really is; love works best when it’s being transferred back and forth between two people. It’s that constant flow from one to the other that builds up that energy, that euphoria. And you think that now that you’ve found that person to give and receive all of that love with, you’re going to be able to feel that bliss forever and ever and ever…. And then suddenly the other person’s gone. And now you have this huge backup of love that you’ve been collecting and growing… and suddenly you have absolutely nowhere to go with it. And you’re feeling actual physical and emotional pain because it’s so built up inside of you. If you could only, somehow, someway, release some of it - even just a tiny bit of it…. 2. Looking back on those posts from MY perspective, they look like someone was just emptying out the cerebral garbage. It's a mental exhaust pipe spewing out monoxide. It has to get dumped somewhere or it will just pile up. But none of it is changing anything; it's not making me feel better. And that right there is the entire problem. It's not the head that's going to pull me through this. It's the heart. To me, love - understanding - healing - that stuff doesn't happen in a vacuum. It has to be circulated. It cannot simply arise from nothing or just lay there; it has to be spread. So every time someone comes forth and simply says "I get it," or "Thank you," it's like they're taking a teeny piece of their heart - their compassion - and gently handing it over. And then, of course, I immediately go scrambling. "Wait, wait... I know I have a piece left for you, too! Here!" And then I feel better. It's not the head, it's the heart. The transmissions will continue until morale improves, so to speak. But it takes a village to raise an idiot - and THIS idiot is gonna need as much help as he can get. Your replies mean very much to me - and I hope you know why now. Thank you.

For nearly three years now, I've been wishing there was some sort of "halfway house" where wids and other bereaved folks could just be with each other in a safe space until they got their shit together. You've provided the missing piece of the puzzle - your place would be perfect! How soon can all 1,400 of us move in? PS: You might want to run this by TS first. PSS: Truly grateful for your time yesterday, adp. Thank you.