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I didn’t know where to turn for help right after Rob died, so I did what we all do nowadays and searched the internet. I don’t even remember what I was looking for exactly, probably just something that would take away a tiny bit of pain or provide some semblance of an explanation or the slightest ray of hope.

Try Googling “parents who have lost a child to suicide” ... um, on second thought, maybe don’t. After that fruitless search thoroughly bummed me out, I came across a handout from my initial intake meet at Our House Grief Support Center entitled “Grief Is a Process.” When I first read it, I thought it was generic fluff, an obvious and optimistic roadmap kind of thing that you might find in the waiting room of a therapist’s office.

The truth was that it was impossible for me to process anything at the time, least of all grief. I was a dead man walking and could barely read through my tears. Everything felt so empty and meaningless, especially words.

But now that Rob’s been gone for more than a few years, I thought it might be time to revisit the words in that grief guide and add some 20/20 hindsight of my own.

A better title would be “What to Expect When You’re Expecting to Cry Forever.”

Here are some realistic expectations for your grief as time goes by.

Maybe the first thing they should have said here is: “You can’t possibly comprehend what you’re about to read, so just give it a quick scan then put it away and come back to it a year from now.”

It takes time for healing to happen. Although the pain of grief often comes upon us all at once in a crushing blow, the pain gradually lessens over time.

The pain and crushing parts are certainly true, and both abate eventually. But I’d tweak the first sentence to read: “It takes a lifetime for healing to happen, but you need to work at it, because it doesn’t happen all by itself.”

You will find relief through expressing your feelings even many months and years after the death of your loved one.

So here’s the thing about relief: On a micro level, sure, there’s some solace in letting out your feelings rather than keeping them bottled up inside. But on a macro level, I don’t feel especially relieved. Sure, maybe there’s a respite from the pain, but there’s no relief when it comes to missing Rob. There’s no relief from the absence of someone you loved.

You cannot get through this alone, so find ways to seek out support.

Seeing a therapist, joining a grief group, and talking about Rob with family and close friends were all incredibly helpful, and I couldn’t imagine enduring this without that wonderful support. But ultimately, we all go through grief on our own and come out from the other side a changed person.

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The camaraderie and understanding of others in a grief support group will help to normalize your feelings.

I never imagined myself in a grief group. I’m pretty uncomfortable in just about any group setting, so I couldn’t see myself being any different with a bunch of strangers whom I had absolutely nothing in common with other than that we had all recently suffered the worst thing that could ever happen to a parent. Yet the moment I walked into my first meeting, I knew I was with my people. We all spoke the same language, and the only place we truly felt understood was in that room.

It helps to continue to honor and maintain a loving connection to the memory of the person who died.

Writing about Rob helped me stay connected to him like nothing else. For the first few months, I was compelled to document how I was feeling and dealing with his loss as well as how those feelings might change over the course of time. But as the years have gone by, I’ve become more aware of the “loving connection to the memory” part. In other words, focusing on Rob’s true self rather than just recounting all the bad craziness he got himself into. So good call, “Grief Is a Process” guide!

There will come a time when you will go for an hour, a day, or a week without crying.

I didn’t believe this could be possible when I first read it, but of course it’s true. We can’t cry endlessly. And the biggest revelation happened years later, when a passing thought about Rob had me crying for joy.

You will be able to talk about your loved one without feeling an overwhelming sadness.

As I’m sure you’ve figured out by now, the takeaway with almost all of these milestones is that, in the early days of grief, you just can’t imagine that anything will ever change, and certainly not for the better. It does and it can.

You find yourself laughing or enjoying yourself.

Amazingly, yes and yes.

You are able to smile as you think of tender memories.

It took some time, but right again, Grief Process Guide!

You find yourself wanting to spend time with others.

Well, let’s not get too crazy here!

You begin to see and feel a possibility of hope for a meaningful life ahead.

So how does it feel to be mostly right about everything, Mr. Grief Is a Process know-it-all?

© Psychology Today