Often all I need is for you to listen

When I was new in my grief, I often didn’t have words. My brain wasn’t ready yet; I was struggling with living.

Almost four years out now, and I’m finally feeling ready to share.

But now, somehow, when I talk about my child, people make assumptions.

They assume I am hurting.
They assume I need help.
They assume I am not “over” his death. (As if death is something that can be “gotten over”).

Related: Graphics Blog: “Healing” from the death of my child is about as likely as regrowing a missing limb

They assume, most of all, that I am sharing as a means of outcry; that my words mean I need advice or love or hugs. (And please know, I appreciate these things! If not for themselves, then for the proof they provide of your love. I am always thankful for your love).

I also need to ask you to listen—

Because often, when I share about my deceased child, that’s all I’m looking for: An ear. A person to open their heart to experience. Someone to take a moment in their day to read and acknowledge, without trying to analyze me.

I am a bereaved mother.

I am also a writer, and this is how I process and communicate.

None of this means I’m broken; not in the way you mean.

Please stop trying to fix me.

Often when I share about my deceased child, people rush to give advice or hugs. I don’t always need that, though.
Often, all I really need is for you to listen.

Related Posts:

Write Your Grief: I Love you. Please.
Miranda’s Blog: Understanding
Graphics Blog: Notes for the Support Team

Downloadable graphics for “Often all I need is for you to listen”: