If I were to make a list of all the things I worry about regarding my behavior since Colin’s death … well, it would be a very long list. But one thing I keep coming back to is this sense that my capacity for empathy has been radically diminished in the last year.
Which is not to say that I have none. Nor is it to say that I suffered at the least twinge of pain from anyone else in my presence. I simply think I was more capable of it 2-3 years ago.
All the news coming out of the States in the last few weeks has made me think about it all the more. I don’t want to get political at all here, but there are simple facts. If I see one person kneeling on another person’s neck, I think there was a time when I would have been able to muster outrage. Now … I can see that it’s a bad thing. I certainly wouldn’t want to happen to me. But, on many levels, the best I can muster is a “Well, that’s not good.” Similarly, with the protests against police brutality … I get the basics of the argument. I get why you would be mad if you were convinced that the police single you out unnecessarily. And yet, right now, it doesn’t rise much above an academic exercise for me.
This is not how I remember myself. I remember being enraged by the Iraqi invasion of Kuwait and horrified by the September 11 attacks. I remember being scared of Ebola and sad when Challenger blew up. I’m not convinced that I can work up the energy for things that aren’t directly happening to me any more.
Nor does it have to be abstract. We had dinner with some friends a few weeks ago when the host started talking about his job and how the coronavirus shutdown has affected him. He’s an airplane pilot. I knew this. I’ve known this for years. And yet, three months into this coronavirus quagmire, this was the first time it had even dawned on me that he might be affected by all this, forget walking over one day and just asking how things were going. I’d like to think the old me would have at least sent a “So, how’s it going text” amid all this.
And now. Everything I hear. You don’t like your job? Your children aren’t handling lockdown well? You’re the victim of systemic repression? So far, everything everyone has thrown at me only gets the following out of me: “Well, you haven’t watched your child die slowly, have you?”
I mean, to my credit, I use my inside-my-head voice for that. I make the right noises when confronted with and I look sad. I recognize that these things aren’t good. But there’s a large chunk of me that just doesn’t care about anyone else’s problems. I’m still so wrapped up with mine. Because even though I seem to be doing well – and I hear nothing but how well I’m handling this – all I can think of is how it’s been just more than a year since we found out his condition was terminal and just about a year since we moved into the hospice and almost nine months since he died. And that’s awful enough. But then come the thoughts and questions. Did I handle last year as well as I could have? Did I do everything possible for my son? I like to think yes, but then the doubt creeps in when I’m not ready for it and, I’m sorry, I’m wound up in my own psyche. Your problems? I just can’t.
And so the question becomes is this just the way it is for the first year or so after a loss like that of Colin? Will I work my way back up to caring about what’s going on outside my four walls? As ugly as it can look out there some times, I’d like to think I will. But, for now, all I can do is worry every now and then that I don’t worry. It’s going to have to do for now.
Sounds like perhaps PTSD from what you ,understandably, have been through. How can anything rise to the level of what you have been through? How can anything else scare you that much? With time, I believe your level of empathy for others will rise as will your acceptance of how you handled it. Continued love and prayers from your Texas USA family!
It may be a long while before you have the emotional energy for others’ hurts and problems. There is only so much capacity, and you have been exhausted emotionally for months and months and months. For right now, you just worry about dismissing those doubts and worries. Ironically, if you actually hadn’t loved him enough or done enough for him, it would never occur to you to worry about whether or not you had. You cannot have perspective where you are right now– you are inside the situation, but please trust everyone who has been following along from a distance: You have plenty of reason to grieve. But you have no reason to reproach yourself.
You and Christina did right by him. You are going to have to live with losing him, with the pain of a tremendous grief, but not with the odium of letting him down. You are an excellent parent. (You do not have to be perfect to be an excellent parent, and in fact, being imperfect is probably better, anyhow.)
Love you. (((((Hug)))))
Your emotional and physical baseline coming into crazy sh*t like a once-in-a-century pandemic and a once-in-a-century moment of racial reckoning was low – you shouldn’t expect yourself to get worked up about things outside your immediate existence, which is still full of raw wounds. Very understandable that you can only process the latest global insanity on an intellectual level, and even that is pretty impressive in my opinion. Even for those of us coming into this spring with a relatively healthy or just average baseline are exhausted and overwhelmed and find the need to just stop taking in information and processing it. You are fully entitled to leave the outrage and outpouring of grief on a global scale to those who have the bandwidth for it.
And I could not agree more with Cynthia about you and Christina doing right by Colin. As I followed the trajectory of your painful situation, I was in awe about how you consistently managed each step of the journey focused on his dignity while at the same time making sure Emma and Noah were loved and supported.