Sometimes I wonder why in the world am I so exhausted?
Why does it drain me to go to the grocery store?
Why do I have to gird my loins as if going into battle to make a phone call or a doctor’s appointment or to handle the normal, pesky details of living?
THIS. This is why: Every single thing I do or say is complicated now. No simple answers, no easy, breezy interactions with strangers.
I weigh every word, strategically plan each stop on my shopping route and choose carefully when and where to meet a friend for lunch.
Nothing is simple.
One of the things I’ve been forced to embrace in the wake of child loss is that there are very few questions, experiences or feelings that are simple anymore.
“How many children do you have?”
A common, get-to-know-you question lobbed across tables, down pews and in the check-out line at the grocery store. But for many bereaved parents, it can be a complex question that gets a different answer depending on who is asking and where we are.
I decided from the beginning that I would say, “four” in answer to that query.
But that doesn’t always get me off the hook. A follow-up of, “Oh, what do they do?” means that I have to make a decision: do I go down the line, including Dominic in any kind of detail or do I gloss over the fact that one of my children now lives in heaven?
Read the rest here: It’s Complicated