For something that doesn't seem to have a rule book, there is a lot of stuff out in the grief sphere that suggests what you should be feeling and doing.
A lot of it is kind of the reason behind the whole failing widow thought process because, for me, that's not what I need.
I seem to be obscure in my lack of need for love-inspired quotes of where a loved one has journeyed to, how grateful I am to have had him in my life and various other analogies.
Don't get me wrong, a lot of them I can see how and why other people need them.
Just not me.
It was a bit like my poor pastoral care person at the hospital when Pete died.
She tried her hardest - she spoke softly and kindly, she introduced herself to Pete (well, his dead body ... which I still feel is odd, but again, I can understand why some people would think that appropriate or necessary) - but I didn't need that kind of thing.
This has all emerged because the hospital where Pete died has sent a flyer that arrived in the mail today, with a candle ritual in it and some heart-shaped seed-filled paper cutouts to plant, with words around grief.
I am entirely perplexed by it.
I don't dislike it, but I don't think I need it, I'm not entirely sure its the hospital's place to be sending this (probably as I'm 99% sure I had only filled out the bare minimum of paperwork to actually admit Pete as a patient before they were whisking me to a room to tell me he had died..)
It's not that I did agree with its sentiments, either.
But it got me wondering about all of these words and passages and phrases that are inspired by grief, or meant to inspire us through grief, or pick us up from grief ... and how little of them I had found helpful.
I think that's because I don't think what I'm doing is anything less or more than I should be.
I don't feel like what I do is courageous, or strong, or inspiring, or warrior-like, or that I'm weathering a storm, or being a mountain, or a deep rooted tree, or any of the dozens things that I have read over nearly 2 years.
Because I honestly have no idea what I'm doing. For me, I am just doing what I need to do, every day, to get through that day. Mostly, if I'm frank, because I have to. Although there are elements of because I want to.
I had no idea what I would be like as a grieving person, or what I would need.
I mean, who actually considers what type of person they will be in this situation? Or what they might aspire to be, or not be, should it ever happen.
And so I'm finding it entirely interesting that I don't find a lot of what is meant to be comforting, or consoling, or meaningful ... those things. In fact, I find some of it exactly the opposite.
Which has also made me question why that is.
Because I have witnessed other people's grief, in person and online, and I can see that they need these things.
That those words of comfort or inspiration, that acknowledgement of their loss in that way, those symbols are what they need to process their grief.
So I don't dismiss these things. I just read them, and scroll on.
A lot of the inspiration is faith based. I'm more a "are you right there, God, that was my husband and he was awesome ... would have thought you could have taken a few people that were less important from the world ..." type of religious person who makes passing references to something greater than myself in times of crisis, pain, unfitness, and when losing my biscuits at the children. So I wonder if its an acknowledged lack religious faith on my behalf - or not the church every Sunday type - that means they don't resonate with me.
Perhaps it is my acceptance that Pete nor I (or anyone!) had any control over what happened. I have accepted that there was no why. I never bargained about it as part of those 'steps of grieving' ... it just ... is. And in my head, that's ok.
Well, not ok. Because it's shit. But more - it is what it is. And I know as an intelligent person that death is forever and irreversible. So bargaining, wishing, imagining... all those things, seem entirely a waste of energy to me - because it is impossible, not improbable or unlikely. Actually, impossible, never going to happen, no matter how much wishing, bargaining, praying, talking out loud, writing down, drinking, crying, angry rants, fist waving, I do.
And so when this envelope arrived - completely unsolicited, with no warning, no explanation - it completely threw me as to what I should do about it.
I don't hate the idea of what its suggesting, its not really something I need to do to step through my grief. I don't find the practice of lighting a candle in memory of Pete something I need to do. But I do understand that the lighting of candles in memory of people who have died as thing people do, and need.
So I've been contemplating what I do do. and what I do need.
Talking about him at any opportunity, endlessly, seems to be what I do ... a lot of. Bringing him into any and all conversations.
I don't light candles, but I light up the memory of the person he was by reliving it through talking about it and him.
And I've said yes to every single thing that people have offered to do to acknowledge and recognise him and the amazing person that he was - trophies, awards, scholarships, speeches, power point presentations - tangible things that will continue to recognise that year in, year out, for years to come.
And I think I also just do the living. Rather than using words in a meme or a quote to inspire get me out of bed. Knowing that I just have to, whether there is something inspirational in that day or not, I just have to do the living.
I guess I figure that if he isn't here then it's my job or responsibility or need or desire to continue to do the things that WE would have done - with the kids, with life, with all of the things.
And take all the photos and share that life with all of the people who knew him to show them that Pete's family is still here, still living, still smiling, still being the people that he loved, even though he has gone.
It's what I feel is the most tangible way I can recognise, acknowledge, remember, celebrate and all the other words those inspirational memes use, Pete as part of our lives.
I love a good smelling candle as much as the next person.
But I think, like candles, grief is about each person's individual taste and needs.
And for every vanilla or musk candle I pick up and screw my nose up at, someone else picks it up and adores it.
Also I don't need to light a candle to remember Pete, his love, our love, our family, the laughter, the fun, the memories ... candle won't do that. And I struggle with the idea that lighting four of them in a ritual will give me greater understanding or gratefulness of all of those things more than we already do.
So I don't know what to do with this information. Other than read it, appreciate it, probably not undertake the candle ritual (the word ritual has its own connotations I'm not entirely sure the religiously based hospital was intending!) because that's not what I need.
I just wish there had been some sort of a note, or a letter, or something to indicate what was in the envelope. Because that bit was probably the most confronting - and perplexing - the 'why am I getting this almost 21 months later and why am I getting it from the hospital at which he spent less than 10 minutes alive in ..."
And with re-reading all this I don't want to sound ungrateful ... It's perhaps not the sentiment that I have an issue with, perhaps more the out of the blue delivery.
Actually, I have no idea.
I just know that I wasn't expecting it. And it is so far out of left field. And so far from what I actually need.
But we'll probably plant the seeds, if nothing else to find out what they are - because if there is a mis-step it might be that the seeds aren't labelled ... are they Forget Me Nots or stinging nettles?
The instructions are fairly vague:
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