Bereavement - "I'm so sorry for your loss"
Bereavement. “I’m so sorry for your loss”
Is it easier going through a bereavement if you are unattached to a parent that dies? Well, maybe the word “unattached” is based on a false premise, because we are all attached to our source.
What is “bereavement?” The meaning of BEREAVEMENT is the state of being deprived of something or someone.
One thing I’ve observed is that the phrase “I’m so sorry for your loss” is one of the most presumptive, and ill-informed statements ever. My mom passed on Monday of this week.
What did I lose, that the issuer of “I’m so sorry for your loss” can relate with? A parent? Hell, I lost them a long time ago, before they died. No one was coming by, shaking my hand, or calling me then, telling me “I’m so sorry for your loss.”
The term “I’m sorry for your loss” seems to be a simple ego soother for the person issuing it, and often it is accompanied by “Let me know if there is anything you need.” Fuck. I needed a parent, or two. That’s what I needed. Instead, I got authoritarian figureheads that, in all fairness, didn’t know how to deal with their own traumatic childhoods, and so they beat me until my legs bled while professing their love for me, and they gave me the “This hurts me more than it does you” lie.
My dad’s dad (My grandfather) died when he was 8 years old. They were a tobacco farming family, and my dad dropped out of school in the 8th grade. The irony of not really knowing someone, and loving them - this leaves a feeling of loss.
My mom’s dad (My other grandfather) had epilepsy and self-medicated as an alcoholic. I don’t even know what the extent of her childhood was, but I know it was harsh.
I was raised in fear. Fear of my parents, surely, but with the Stockholm Syndrome of them being my source of food…
My first marriage was a little over a year. She ran, and I don’t blame her. I had no clue who I was, and I surely had a shit-ton of baggage that I didn’t know how to deal with.
So, I immediately found my current wife, and we decided to go through hell together. She’s been solid as a rock, and yet, there is this nagging knowledge that the people that made me, and my kids, who I made, are all bereaved to me.
Oh, my kids are still alive, but because of the PTSD and communication issues I’ve brought forward with me from childhood, I was unable to truly connect with them in a bonded way. I love them desperately. And they appear to hate me.
The really fucked up thing is that my kids hate me over ideology. You know the “inclusive” and “accepting” ideology of wokeism? Yeah, that one. The acceptance and inclusivity that rejects and violently discharges anyone who may have a difference of opinion. Who’s the real bigot here?
Anyway, I’m a bereaved motherfucker, and “I’m sorry for your loss” is just salt in the wound of a societal programming of produce, consume, and ignore the absence of true connection.
On the bright side, it gives me fuel to fight the beast. Another thing - It is a certainty that we all carry generational trauma. I’m doing my best to correct this, at least for my family. Perhaps I’ll die a failure, but not from lack of trying. Maybe one day my kids will see how much I’ve accomplished.
P.D., JAY V SHORE