When you lose someone, there are some things that they don't tell you. They cover the basics, of course - they say "don't be afraid to let it out" and "don't apologize for being upset" and "don't worry, it gets easier with time." And in a way, they're right about those things. There are times when you can't do anything but let it out. If you're driving and a song come on the radio, you're crying within seconds, without really thinking about it. If you're sitting in class and someone mentions the C word, you sit there and try not to think about two years of chemotherapy. If you're sitting at home and that person's favorite movie comes on, it's like a vicegrip in your chest until you let all of that emotion come out.
And you won't have anyone to apologize to when you get upset, because almost always you will be hurrying somewhere else so that you can break down in private. You'll wait until you get home and have a cat crying for attention while you're crying for that person you love. You'll be curled around a pillow and say "sorry, kitty" and try to move on with your night. So of course you shouldn't apologize for being upset. There generally isn't anyone to apologize to.
And in a way, it does get easier with time. The first week is always going to be hell. That's when you make phone calls, make funeral arrangements, hear everyone say how sorry they are. You share stories, laugh in a bittersweet way about the things that person did, and smile because you know that you fake it for a little while. People bring food to your house and give you money for dinner and say "I'm so sorry, call on me if you need anything" because they don't know what else they can do. And by the time it's been a month, you're numb enough to the point where you no longer cry every hour, but it's still a miracle if you make it through the day. And after two months, you dread the date of the anniversary because you don't know how you made it for one month, let alone two. You still cry every day, and you're at a point where you do things to incorporate that person into your life.
And the months just drag on. People won't tell you that. They won't tell you about the endless dreams (or nightmares) you'll have about that person. They won't tell you that you'll wake up crying because in a dream, that person came back to you good as new and life went back to normal. They won't tell you that you can escape the empty house across the country but can't escape the deep loneliness in your soul.
No one talks about that, because they want you to be hopeful. They talk about grief work and how you'll learn a lot about yourself and you'll figure out what you can and can't handle. It turns out that you can't handle something a lot more often than you can. They won't tell you that the willpower to drive to work or to school completely vanishes. They won't tell you that you'll lie in bed crying and then you'll pretend that you slept in when you show up late. They won't tell you that the endless ideas for writing that live within you will shrivel up while you deal with everyday life. Things become harder - you say "I'll do the dishes tomorrow" until you have no forks left. You say "I'll clean out the cat's litter after dinner" until she doesn't have any litter left. You'll say "I'll do that homework after unwinding a little" until your professor is urging you to drop the class.
And most of all, they don't tell you that you're in it alone. You'll have your friends, sure, but some of them will abandon you. Some of them will get angry at you for being so weak. Some of them won't know how to handle a person still dealing with a fresh loss seven months down the road. Some of them will never speak to you again because losing someone forces you to grow way the fuck up.
And you'll have family, but you're not going to be able to talk about the loss much. It hurts too much. They won't tell you that.
And support groups are just massive triggers waiting to happen, so you won't go to any of those for a while. You'll get angry with the grief counselor that comes once a week because there is no possible way to convey the depth of what you feel. You won't be able to talk about the people that bullied you and the friend that abandoned you and the family member you're still angry at, because that's not this person's area. And it will always trace back to the deep hatred that you cannot point at anyone. You will be furious and have no place to put that anger without hurting someone.
Cancer is not, after all, a human being that you can hunt down and beat the shit out of and scream at. It is, quite literallly, just the process of abnormal cells refusing to die when they should. And it will hitch a ride on the first red blood cell it finds. And it will take the person you love and destroy them piece by piece until they are beyond unrecognizable and are eventually gone from your life.
They never tell you about any of that.
Or if they do, they sure as hell never told me.
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