In the past two years I have lost both of my parents to cancer. My mother battled for over 6 years while my father’s more aggressive cancer gave him just two short months. Following each of their deaths, friends and acquaintances stopped me in my daily routine to wish me condolences. It would be fine if it had stopped there, but it rarely did.
The people that approached me tended to require some sort of emotional support from me. They wanted details that I did not want to relive as I attempted to go about my day. They wanted to reminisce about my parents as I waited for my child’s bus to arrive, reminding my child of his recent loss each morning. They wanted to cry on my shoulder. They wanted hugs. They made it about them.
Shortly after my mother died, a casual acquaintance of hers found me in the laundry room. I spent twice as long doing laundry because I was too polite. She cried for half an hour, she told me that it took her 3 whole days to “truly get over it”. I didn’t need her to burden me with her grief. It all felt like a very manipulative attempt to get me to cry.
Today, as I came back into my building someone stopped me. I was wearing my father’s hat and she recognized it. She started crying. I ended up consoling her while trying to figure out a way to escape as soon as possible. She didn’t know him, she had merely seen him in the hall. Worst of all, she just hugged me without ensuring I would be comfortable first. I was not.
Most of the people that approached me didn’t even know my parent’s names. Some knew my father as the guy in the hat, some knew my mother as the woman in pink. Almost all neglected to think of how I might feel about having painful memories forced upon me as I tried to move on with my life.
I am a grieving child. I am the mother of a grieving grandchild. I am the sister of a grieving sister. I have lost some of the most important people in my life. It does not mean that I owe you any form of emotional support.
I will not allow another acquaintance to blubber as I try to get to the corner store before it closes. I will not feel bad when I walk away from the people that cannot seem to grasp that I don’t want to discuss my grief with a perfect stranger. I will not acknowledge those that tell me I shouldn’t wear my father’s hat because it makes others sad.
I have a sister. I have friends. Amazing people in my life. I trust them. They understand me. If I want to discuss anything surrounding my parents’ death, it will be with them. Please leave me alone to grieve and consider how you approach others that are grieving.