The Many Faces of Grief

Today I forced myself to think about the seemingly arbitrary ways sorrow shows itself. I have worn these clothes for three days in a row. I haven't regularly taken my meds, eaten healthy or exercised for nearly a week. Steve, on the other hand, is active and involved in work, errands and house projects, distracted in a strangely productive way. Mackenzie, naturally reserved and introspective, spends a lot of time in her room reading and listening to music. She treats her brother sweetly and helps willingly with household chores, but she chokes up occasionally and sleeps fitfully. Maddie has apparently chosen to cope by clashing with Micah at every opportunity. Usually laughing and lively, she has become bossy and sullen. I can tell she doesn't know how to process her hurt or how to help her baby brother.

Micah has opted for defiance. He tortures Maddie endlessly and resists every instruction we give him with a fixed gaze and a firm, "NO!". Sigh. We're trying to give him, and our daughters, leeway to adjust and grieve in their own ways without having to call in Super Nanny. As much as we want our home to be a peaceful place of refuge, that can't happen if our standards slip away. I'm no psychologist but I think maintaining our boundaries is imperative, for the kids' sakes and ours. We can't let our compassion for Micah outweigh our desire for him to treat others, including his parents, with respect. I pray we will find the balance in time.

Micah bundled up and bounded outside to play in the snow this afternoon. He chased the dog (He claimed she was playing with him.), made snow angels face first and fashioned a snow fort with Maddie. I watched from the window, smiling at his innocence, subtly severed just six days ago.

I only gave him his meds twice today. Guilt City.