Everyone who is grieving someone they loved will tell you there is just one thing you want to do when it happens: you want to escape reality.  The pain that you feel when you lose a spouse is crushing. There are no words to describe how awful it is and how desperate you are for just the smallest piece of relief or escape.  If I had not had kids when Gordie died, I would likely have sold everything I owned, gone to Europe and lived on the edge, purposely flirting with death.  There are many different ways that grievers attempt to escape their reality:  some healthy and some unhealthy.  However, the universal thing I hear from grievers is not wanting to get out of bed.

Through one of my grief classes, I met a woman who lost her eight-year old son. As she told the story of his death, I outwardly wept. The pain I saw in her eyes was like no other pain I had ever seen. Five years later, I can still visualize the pain in this woman’s face. As she told her story, she talked about her inability to get out of bed after her son died. Day after day, she could not pull herself out of bed. Her grief was so overwhelming that she would lie in her bed in a dark room and when she was able to sleep, it was the only escape from her pain.  Sadly, she had another son who was five at the time.   This woman talked about the impact on her now only living son. While she was in her bed, day after day, her son would sit in his room playing by himself. Or he would sit in front of the TV watching shows all day long. She had so much guilt as she told her story.

“I was so caught up in my own grief, I failed my other son”, she whispered through her tears.

My heart broke for her. My heart still breaks for this woman who I have not seen since our grief class ended five years ago. But she had a profound effect on my life. She taught me to just keep getting up. Just keep getting out of bed.

There are days that I have felt like not getting out of bed. There are days that I have wanted to shut the shades in my room, turn out all the lights, and just hide under the covers. But I never have. Not even the first few days after Gordie died. Even when people told me “we’ve got the boys”, I got up. I had a tremendous amount of help with my kids from my parents and my friends but I was there. I was present. My sons had their Mom. I just kept getting up.

I did not meet this woman and hear her story until weeks after Gordie died. That day, driving home, I silently prayed.

Thank you God for helping me get out of bed everyday.

There were many days during the first year following Gordie’s death that I did not want to get out of bed. I would wake up, go through that 30 seconds of sleepiness thinking I was living my old life and then have reality crash down on me. And I would want to pull the covers up and just stay there. But then I would think about that woman from my grief class and I would tell myself “Just get up”. Running helped me get out of bed. I soon learned that if I could just get out of bed, get my running clothes and shoes, on, and get out the door, that I would feel a little less bad after the run. It still wasn’t easy but I would bargain with myself “if you still feel awful after the run, you can go back to bed.” But I never did.

So for those of you who are suffering from a tremendous loss and also have kids, my number one piece of advice is: Just Get Up. Get out of bed. Run if you can. Walk if you can. Shower.  Let the warm water wash away your tears as you cry.  Get Dressed.  It’s OK if it’s only sweats.  Be present for your kids. I know it’s not easy. I know you just want to shut the world out. Five years later, there are still days that I have to tell myself to just get up. But five years later I am so damned proud of myself that I just got up.