Get over it?

It has been nearly eight years since my Dad died, and there are still times when I miss him so much that my heart literally aches. Several months after Dad's death, Mom found herself dealing with the perceived attitude from some well-meaning people, that she needed to get over it and get on with her life. That started me thinking, and I have given quite a lot of thought over the past eight years to the grieving process and this misconstrued idea that you are supposed to "get over it" when someone you love dies.

Mom and Dad had been married for 33 years when Dad died. They married just after Mom graduated from high school. She was 18, and Dad was 25. They were deeply in love with each other, and remained completely faithful to each other for 33 years of marriage (unfortunately, that seems almost un-American these days!). They were absolutely committed to keeping the sacred vows which they made to each other on July 27, 1956, "until death do us part". I guess they also took the Biblical command seriously to "be fruitful and multiply and replenish the earth", because out of that marriage came five sons. (Four of those sons are happily married, deeply in love with and completely faithful to their wives and children. The fifth son is currently having too much fun being single!)

Over the course of 33 years of marriage, Mom and Dad shared countless joys and numerous heartaches. They experienced financial ups and downs. They shared the immense joy of bringing five children into the world. They shared the deep heartache of facing the sudden death of Dad's father, and the horrible murder of Dad's only brother. They faced difficult decisions concerning their own aging parents. They raised five sons to be honest, loyal, devout Christians and respectable citizens. Just about everything they did, they did together. The spiritual and emotional bond that they developed over 33 years was completely unbreakable.

When Dad died in December of 1989, all of a sudden half of Mom's life was gone, and is never coming back. Every night for the past eight years, Mom has gone to bed by herself, and every morning she has awakened by herself. Every Sunday and Wednesday when she goes to church, there is no one there to hold hands with. The special songs that once brought floods of wonderful memories of special times spent together, now seem to have a haunting emptiness about them.

For the last several years of Dad's life, he and Mom worked for the same company, and drove to work together on many days. After Dad died, Mom had to drive to work all alone every day. Dad's exuberant and contagious cheerfulness no longer brightened the company halls. The job which had once simply been another piece of the wonderful life they were building together, also suddenly developed a certain emptiness to it. In time, that emptiness became unbearable, and Mom found a new job.

My point is this. For 33 years, Mom and Dad shared every joy and every heartache of life together. In December of 1989, that changed forever. Every day for the past eight years, Mom has lived with the constant nagging heartache of realizing that she will never be able to share those things with Dad again, at least not in this life. Dad is gone from this place for good. He's not coming back. Even after eight years, life can never be the same for Mom. She can't just "get over it".

They say that time heals all wounds, but I have come to believe that some wounds are not supposed to heal. When you lose someone whom you dearly love, time does allow you to develop the ability to cope with the emptiness. But no amount of time can possibly make the emptiness go away. In fact, I believe that the deep emptiness that has been left in our lives by Dad's death is a wonderful tribute to the incredible man that he was. His absence hurts so much, because his presence brought so much joy.

Next time you are tempted to advise someone who is grieving to "get over it and get on with your life", may I suggest that you simply offer a hug instead? You see, "getting over it" is not even an option.

Paul O'Rear lives in Waxahachie.