Who Are the Survivors? By Gloria Alden

(We are republishing this post by Gloria Alden. Gloria was hospitalized this week. In the spirit of this blog, we send our wishes and prayers to her on recovery. E. B. Davis)

I deliver Mobile Meals every other Thursday. On my route I met a woman for the first time last week although I’ve been delivering meals to her and her husband for over a year. I met him briefly once, and at that time he told me to leave the meals in the basket by the back door and not to knock on the door. The woman – I only know their last names – was cleaning out the car and her little dog came up to greet me. I said “Hi” to her and asked about the dog and made some small talk to which she barely responded. However, she did follow me to the door where I put their meals. I got a glimpse of her husband inside the door, but he quickly disappeared. I mentioned that I knew of her sorrow, and that I had lost my oldest son, too, and I gave her a quick hug. She started to open up, but still did not lose the sadness and anger from her face. She said she and her husband had been married for 39 years and he never hugged her anymore. To tell the truth, the more I listened to her the more I understood his pulling away. She was not only in full grief after five years since her son died from suicide – an Iraq War vet – but she was angry at the whole community and went nowhere anymore. She ranted about how they weren’t there for her anymore and then ranted about how when they did come around they mentioned suicide. What is especially tragic, they have a younger son who now lives in California, and she doesn’t want him to come home because he’s not like her older son, who was special. Foolishly, I gave her my phone number when she said she wanted to call and console me sometimes. I don’t need consoling, but I didn’t tell her that.

I know there is no time line for grieving, but there is a time when one has to stop letting it rule your life. This past winter I joined a Grief Bereavement Team that was being started at my church. So far we’ve only been having meetings with some knowledgeable outsiders. One woman from Hospice was the most helpful. She not only had us all laughing – strange for a bereavement team, right? But she also gave us sound and good advice. One thing she did mention is that some people never let go of their grief and they can’t be helped.

Grieving isn’t just about death of a loved one. It can be over the breakup of a marriage, over an unhappy childhood where one never felt loved, or the loss of a friend who no longer cares to have you for a friend. Even the death of a beloved pet can cause grief.

So why do some people pick themselves up and go on with their life while others continually hold on to their grief, or anger, or their “poor me” outlook on life?

My granddaughter, Megan's and son, John's graves. 

The loss of a child can be one of the most devastating events in a parent’s life. I know and so does one of my daughters.  She lost her only child who at that time was just six. And yet both my daughter and I went on and live productive lives. Do we still think of our children and miss them and what might have been if they’d survived? Of course, we do.

I’ve experienced the loss of a child, my first grandchild, my parents, a dearly loved brother and a best friend of fifty years plus numerous other relatives. And yet I’m a cheerful and optimistic person who loves life. Did I love my son less than this woman still grieving loved her son? No.

I also experienced the loss of a long time marriage. My dad died on a Saturday night, his funeral was on Tuesday, a friend called me that night to express her condolences and in the conversation mentioned my husband was having an affair. I confronted him with it and the next day, a Wednesday we went to his lawyer where he’d already set everything up and then on Saturday our house went on the market. I survived that, too, and am now quite happily single.

 

So what I’m wondering about is what gives some of us the strength to go on? I started college for the first time after the death of my eighteen year old son. I got a degree in elementary education and spent twenty years teaching third grade and loving it. Does my inner strength come from my parents? They were great parents teaching us all the important values of life; a work ethic, honesty, compassion, a love of learning and books and so many other things. But I have several writing friends who had unhappy childhoods. Two women who are good friends of mine had wicked stepmothers who made life miserable for them while they were growing up, and yet both have positive outlooks and a good sense of humor making them a delight to be around and both live productive lives working and writing. 

Almost every week I read in the paper or somewhere about people who have survived incredible hardships and persevere to make productive lives for themselves, hardships that make what I’ve gone through puny by comparison. I tip my hat or lift a glass of wine to those people who overcame all odds and in one way or another survived with a positive attitude.

 

Why do you think some people are able to overcome life’s hardships while others can’t?