Forgive Me For Not Showing Up When You Needed Me Most

Dear Family & Friends-

If only I knew then what I know now. I’m sorry for not showing up when you needed me the most.

You were grieving and in so much pain. I bought a card, sent flowers and showed up. In the beginning.

And, then I went home and back to my life like everyone else. Your world stopped while the rest of the world kept moving as if nothing had happened at all.

I’m so sorry I didn’t get it back then. I’m so sorry I didn’t understand that grief became a part of you and it was impossible for you to move on after the funeral and everyone returned to their lives. Leaving you and your broken heart behind.

It’s true that it is impossible to completely understand loss and grief until it happens to you. Until life turns upside down and the raw pain sets in.

I get it now. I understand the deep ache of missing someone so much you would do anything to turn back time and see them again.

I can relate to the overwhelming and conflicting emotions as grief consumes you from the inside out. I understand the shock, sadness, fear, anger, confusion and exhaustion that keeps coming back every single day and the uncertainty of what tomorrow will bring.

There is no relief and, I better understand how lonely grief can feel. Sometimes, the isolation is unbearable and sometimes, the only thing I need is to feel like people care.

It makes sense now. People run away and disappear because they are so uncomfortable with grief. I’m sure you felt abandoned, misunderstood and judged. I didn’t mean to do that to you and I hope you can forgive me for any hurt I caused.

I’m so sorry I didn’t show up for you back then. Even if it was to give you a hug or sit with you in silence when you just needed to know someone held space for your pain and grief.

There are so many things I could’ve done different back then. I could’ve called more often. Especially on difficult days that did nothing but remind you of all you had lost. I could’ve sent you cards just because to let you know you were not forgotten in your pain and that you are loved.

Oh how I wish I would’ve been there for you. Even if it was in the smallest of ways. I could’ve stopped by to check in on you more often. Offered to shop for groceries. Taken your dogs for a walk. Invited you to lunch or out for a walk.

I should’ve just shown up. For you. Even if it felt uncomfortable for me.

Please forgive me. I truly didn’t get it back then. I didn’t understand the depth of grief after losing someone you love. Sadly, I do now and wow does it hurt.

And, of course, here you are now. Showing up for me in ways I didn’t show up for you. Because you have been there and you understand the gift of compassion, empathy, kindness and love in the chaos of grief. You understand the importance of showing up and holding space for me.

Thank you for being there for me and I promise I will be there for you moving forward. We are all in this together and when grief hits, we need to be there for one another for as long as it takes.

I know you are still grieving and that it will always be a part of you, but it gives me hope to know that you have learned to carry your grief forward. To know that things can get better and that you can find joy in the midst of the pain.

It took my own loss to truly understand that grief needs to be seen, validated and heard. You have done that for me. You created a safe space for me to grieve and I now know there is nothing wrong with me. You allowed me to cry when I didn’t know what else to do.

And, you reminded me that it’s okay to not be okay as I stumble forward into the unknown during one of the most unimaginable and difficult times of my life.

I love you and I will never forget how much you have shown up for me when the rest of the world faded away because I couldn’t get over it fast enough or move on.

Thank you and I promise I will never disappear again when loss and grief show up and changes everything. I promise I will be there for the people I care about and love.

Love,

A Fellow Griever and Friend -

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Grief, Regret and Pat Benatar

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Defending Your Grief