Empathy vs Sympathy

If I have learnt anything from losing Dad, it's Empathy.  

I considered myself an empathic person, but now I really get it.  You have a whole different perspective.  

Sympathy is trying to feel someone's pain and Empathy is actually feeling it.

When Dad passed the jungle drums started to beat.  Friends and family pulling together to help us through.  I had some lovely messages from people.  These gave me great comfort.  There were offers to help.  But no one knows how to help, really.  However the meals left without fanfare, they not only nourished but were like a hug.  And the messages that kept coming, for weeks, with no need of reply, was like a solid hand on my shoulder letting me know they were there.  The people who had been where I was standing, were the best at knowing how to help.  Empathy.

I'm a people person.  However during this time I really struggled to see the people that knew me best.  I knew that they would see through the mask I was wearing for work, in life and would see my broken heart.  I couldn't let that happen, I'd lose control and it would all be real. I think perhaps it hurt them for me to push away but in a way that only truly special friends can, they stuck by me.  

I'm being back to myself now.  Wanting to reach out.  The grief has subsided and connection to life is regaining its place in my world.  Those with empathy, they understand that grief has no timetable.  They will talk about things with me, don't gloss over things and are okay if I'm not the bubbly crazy person I am normally.  They support and love.  And I'm ever grateful.

I never really knew what grief was.

 I've lost loved one before.  So I felt like I knew what grief was all about.

About 12 years ago I lost my Grandma.  She got to see more of my life that I thought she would.  When I went overseas in my 20's I thought I not see her on my return.  I mean she's was my Grandma and I knew that she was getting on.

However she was around for me when I met the love of my life, our first home, our wedding and the arrival of our son.  She adored him!  She even got to meet our daughter for just over a year before she passed away.  And I feel into a slump.  I did what could to help Mum, but with two little kids it was a juggle.  When my crazy Aunty threw a spanner in the works it got me fired up and had me backing Mum in a whole other way.  However when the dust settled and life returned "to normal" there was such a gap.  I had Grandma in my life for 30 years.  Looking back, I think my kids got me through.  But it was hard.

With Dad, it's been so different.

After that week, there was a funeral to plan. Things to think about, people to contact, jobs to be done.  It was wheels in motion and you just had to go forward.  And although the service was nice it's not what I want to talk about.

What I didn't understand about grief is the way it rears up and swallows you whole.  

The slightest thing.  

Noticing one of our plants was looking sick and thinking, before I even realised, oh I should ask Dad about that.  Reliving all that loss in a second.

Hearing one of Dad's songs (of which there were alot I have on my ipod, come up) would lead to a stream of tears.

Driving.  My minds wanders and I'm right back there.

Seeing the first tinge of green on the willows, our special thing.

Just walking.  Walking around our farm on a beautiful day and feeling like I've been punched in the stomach when I realise he's gone.

In supporting Mum.  Through her heartbreak.  When she's sorting Dad's things, which I know is hard for her, I feel a lump in my throat that won't go away.  And it's hard because they were a team and one without the other just feels wrong.

Father's Day was the worst.  Trying to make it special for my husband for the kids, and feeling the entire day so raw.

Most days I feel like I'm wearing a mask.  There is the me I'm sharing with the outside world and then I go to bed the me inside that feels so hollow.

I know there are stages to grief.  I feel like I've skipped a few - I couldn't deny what happened, I was there.  I'm not angry, how could I be?  But Lord knows I'm sad.  

Dad and I were very similar.  We had such a cool relationship.  And I guess understood each other.  We were close.  And to know that he's gone can literally take my breath away.

Dad and I had a fondest for fantails that started when he came on a school camp when I was 8 or 9.  And after the funeral for days there was a fantail hanging around.  It would follow me out to the washing line and hang by the window if I was sitting on the couch.  I do believe, very strongly, it was him checking up on me.  

I wouldn't say I'm at the acceptance part of grief yet.  I feel like I've got some stuff I need to work through.  But I will say that when I see a fantail now, I smile and say Hi Dad.