• Home
• Dealing With Shock
• Grief Process
•    5 Stages of Grief
•    Family Culture
• Helping Yourself
•    Picking Up the Pieces
•    The Road
• Helping Your Family
•    Keeping Family
•    Family Culture & Grief
•    Grieving With My Children
• About Susan Jedd
• Counseling Services

Dealing With Shock

A dear friend of ours who happens to be a trauma psychologist, stayed with us the night Michael died. When we talked about that night several years later, she asked me if I remembered asking her the question, "Is he really gone?"

I remembered clearly and also remembered her answer. She looked me straight in the eye and solemnly and truthfully answered, "Yes". I remember how strangely comforting it was to be told the simple truth even though the truth was very bad.

Then she told me what I hadn't remembered ...that I asked her that question at least once every forty-five minutes to an hour. Apparently, I needed to hear the answer over and over again. I didn't believe what had been presented to me as the truth because it was so disturbing. So I had to constantly ask a trusted friend for confirmation.

One of the hardest things for me was the shock. Shock is a very uncomfortable feeling. It's so hard to believe when something so unexpectedly horrible happens. It's so unbelievable. He was just here. Literally.

He was just here and now he's gone. No preparation. No chance to give feedback on the idea. No customer service department to complain to after the fact. No way to make it right. No good-byes. No closure. Nothing. He was here. We loved each other. We were a family. And now he's gone

He came home every night and we enjoyed the blessings of family life. Now he'll never come home again. No discussion. No input. It's just the way it is. I have no control, no impact, no leverage. My opinion doesn't seem to matter and I can't make it go away.

We communicated with each other. He called me if he was going to be late coming home. He didn't warn me that he'd get killed on the way to work that day and never come home again. He's never done this before. Why should it be happening now? My mind cannot accept it.

Shock is a two edged sword. It's uncomfortable and unsettling. Yet there's a certain comfort in it. As long as I'm in shock, I haven't accepted the reality of it all and it doesn't seem so final. It feels like it can still be discussed.

When I finally accept it, I won't watch for the headlights in the driveway anymore.

Helping Yourself