Crying in the dark

After my last post I had great plans and ambitions to write more. I had plans to write about March 11th being the one year anniversary of our world changing. I wanted to write about the seemingly normal feeling of filling out a March Madness bracket. I’ve also wanted to write about the mass shootings that have happened in the last month or the Derek Chauvin Trial. So many things have happened that I planned to write about, but in that same time I found myself facing a block. It wasn’t as much of a writer’s block, as it was a life happens block. My wife and I noticed one of our dogs was not himself and what we found was made a priority for both of us.

A little backstory of my life. When I was a 4th grade boy my parents made a choice that would impact much of the person I am today. In their pursuit of a better life and monetary upward mobility they chose to take on consulting jobs in the gaming industry. These positions would have them assisting in the opening of casinos in Canada. Knowing they would be opening in multiple cities they chose to have my siblings and me move in with our grandparents. Small town stability was the goal rather than continuously moving from city to city in Canada. Of the many ways this choice shaped me, none would compare with how it framed my ability to process sadness and grief.

When they would leave, we (younger brother, younger sister, and myself) would inevitably all be sad, mad, and disappointed. It wasn’t that we didn’t like being at our grandparents’ place, it was just we all wanted our mom and dad. Through a lot of self examination and reflection I discovered this altered how I express my emotions. With both of my siblings crying I felt the need to be the “rock”, the shoulder to cry on, the one who would remain strong for the others. It’s not that I didn’t express the emotions that they did, I just learned to do it where they wouldn’t see. Many nights I would look at a family picture while alone in my room before crying myself to sleep.

Six and a half years later when my mom took her own life, my-always being the strong one for others would deepen. This time as a brother 19 years my senior would collapse into my arms when they (older brother and sister) got to our house. Rather than cry with him, I chose to comfort him and hold my pain for later. Throughout the funeral process, this became a consistent choice for me. When my aunt said she had written a speech about her sister, my mom, that she knew she couldn’t get through; I volunteered to read it. I began to learn that day about how holding in my emotions for the benefit of others was doing actual harm to me. I made it through the speech and upon returning to my seat had to run to the restroom to be sick.

Even though it was harmful to me, I continued this pattern for years to come. It actually became worse as an adult. Just over thirteen years later, at 29 years old when my older sister, niece, and nephew died tragically in a house fire, it went into overdrive. I took it upon myself to make sure everyone around me could find closure and forgot to find it myself. I would find myself driving down the road for months hearing songs that we played for the memorial and uncontrollably sobbing. I’d once again see a picture or text message and cry myself to sleep, alone in my semi.

It wasn’t something where I wouldn’t or don’t cry at a funeral. It was more of a time limit that we societally place on grief. If you look at funerals, it baffles me how we can schedule anything beyond the start time. But, we do. We schedule a service, then a burial, then a luncheon. We have person specific bereavement leaves allotted to us from our employers. We wipe our tears and keep the day moving. This, combined with my inclination to always remain strong for the people grieving around me has allowed me to conceal my sorrow for far too long.

So, a month ago when we noticed our dog wasn’t acting like himself of course I would still find myself in this pattern. At first it was his not wanting food that caught our attention. We just chalked it up to a bad batch of food, and would mix in other food to coax him to eat. Then when that stopped working we took him to the vet to have him checked. They ran bloodwork and worried he had signs of cancer. While we waited for results we made sure to spend every available minute we had with our animals. I would go out to throw the ball for him, no matter how cold. One day before we got the results from the vet, I got my answer from our dog. He was always up for fetch and this day he wouldn’t stop (normally he would give up after getting tired). He just kept running, like he wanted to go out playing his favorite game. No matter how tired he was, he just kept going and I wasn’t going to deny him. I shivered between throws, but just kept going. After he finally had enough, we came inside and I took his ball to the garage to be put away. As the door closed behind me, I broke down. Once again concealing my sadness, I found myself bawling in the garage so my wife wouldn’t see. The next day when she called me in tears with the results from the vet confirming very advanced stage cancer, I reverted back to consoler instead of fellow griever. I later told her about crying in the garage, and her hug reminded me that I don’t have to hide my sadness- especially from her. The person who I’ve shared so many tears with- tears of joy, tears of anger, tears of sadness, tears from t.v. shows, tears of every type. Yet, I was still holding my pain for later.

This past Sunday, after seeing his discomfort had worsened, we knew it was time. We decided we would put him down the next day so that he wouldn’t have to suffer. We were able to make it a great day with him (one of those days when your dog could have anything he wants). After lifting him into bed to sleep with us one last time, I was back to silently crying myself to sleep.

When Monday came, she said she would schedule a time later in the day in hopes that I could make it home in time. I raced through my deliveries all day, keeping my emotions in check knowing it could slow me down. I wasn’t able to get home, but was able to get close enough to park the truck and have her pick me up on the way to vet’s office. All of those emotions that I had been choking back all day were there to hit me like a ton of bricks. As we sat in that room watching our dog slip away, for the first time in a long time I didn’t hide my pain. I cried with, instead of after, my wife. Watching him find peace while he held the ball he loved in his mouth, is an image that will both comfort me and hurt my heart for years to come.

Last night, after once again flipping a tear-soaked pillow so I could fall asleep, I realized this is one area I have to change. Having my wife say to her mother this week that she has never seen me cry that much, is something I have to change. Getting back in the truck to finish my day on Monday wasn’t good for either of us. Stopping my sadness, so a customer won’t know, isn’t good for me. Four nights of crying in the darkness, isn’t good for me. Had I known this week would be as tough as it was, I would have taken time off to stay in the grief instead of going in and out of it. Pausing the pain to be the professional-me may be something I have become good at over the years, but I know it’s not good for me for the years to come.

I have changed so much in my life. But, when it comes to dealing with grief, I’m still just that fourth grade boy crying alone in the dark. Changing that is going to take a lot of work. I must learn that the best way to be there for my wife, my family, and my friends while they struggle through their sadness and grief is to be open with my shared sadness and grief. We can laugh together. I have to learn, it is also okay to cry together. In doing so, hopefully with the greater trust we can all deepen our love together.