“Everyone thinks I’m okay, but I’m not”

From my journal dated July 2, 2002:

It’s just so hard for us to come home – for Joe, Jenna and me, anyway. This house used to be a haven, a fun place where people came for parties, to watch movies, to gather. And now it’s just so blasted quiet. We try to figure out how to leave, and, once we’re out, how to delay coming back. Nobody wants to come here…not even us.

I went to help Mary with the formal pictures today. I’m so glad she called. It’s nice to have some place to go after school. I just hate coming home to an empty house. It was just nice to hang out with her, to have an activity to do while we chatted a little. She gave me a big hug.

Mary said a lot of the kids are still having such a hard time. It’s really hard for me to tell; no one really talks to me about it. I see so few of them, and those I do seem to be moving on. I know that’s not necessarily the case…maybe it’s just an appearance, a front. Yesterday Jenna said something to me along the line of “everyone thinks I’m okay, but I’m not.” Maybe she’s not the only one who feels that way.

I don’t think any of us want to deal with it…it would be easier to just sort of shoves it down or away to think of something else. Maybe that’s what some of these other kids are doing. Maybe they stay away from us because they can’t deal with it, don’t want to make us sad or something. Out of sight, out of mind? I don’t know.

This entry was posted in Bereaved Parent, Big hug, Death of a child, Haven, Home, Perceptions and tagged , by Rebecca Carney - One Woman's Perspective. Bookmark the permalink.

About Rebecca Carney - One Woman's Perspective

My name is Becky Carney. My husband, Joe, and I have been married for 43 years. We have two living children, Eric (40) and Jenna (35). We lost a baby in utero at 19 weeks in 1987. In 2002, our middle son, Jason (19), and his best friend, Alina (20), were broadsided by a drunk driver who was going at least twice the speed limit. They both died instantly. This blog is written from my perspective as a bereaved parent. I don't claim to know what it's like to walk in anyone else's shoes. Each situation is different; each person is different. Everyone handles grief differently. But if I can create any degree of understanding of what it's like to be a parent who has lost a child, then I have succeeded in my reason for writing this blog.

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