Nerves of Aerospace Grade Titanium?

I have been dealing with the loss of my sister. I don't grieve the same way that other people grieve. I don't break down and curl up in a ball and cry in the corner. I am focused. I shove my grief aside, and I deal with the things that need to be dealt with. I take care of the needs of my family and my friends first and then, if there is time, I deal with my needs - otherwise, I internalize.

On the day my sister died, I was far from home. My dad was alone in one place, my mom was alone in another, my nephew was not with them and my sister was dead. Rather than cry out, wail or weep, I made the executive decision to get my dad somewhere safe until my husband could collect him. I made the call to my nephew's dad to begin the process of preparing for telling my nephew the tragic news, and I placed calls to find my mom and tell her, and to tell other members of our family. Then I set to work to secure a plane ticket home and make the arrangements for a funeral dinner following the service. I cried on the shoulder of one of my dearest friends for a few moments, and then got back to what I needed to get done.

Some think that this behavior is unnatural - I think it is practical. I did not have the luxury of breaking down because my family needed me to take charge. I could not stop and grieve with family members because they would suck the very life from me when I needed to be busy making plans and taking care of things.

After I arrived home, my husband felt as if I was not emotional enough, and he was angry with me for it. I suspect he expected me to fall out of the car into his waiting arms a jellied, sobbing mess. I am not that person. I got home at nearly 1 am on Saturday morning and immediately set to work getting photographs cropped and prepared for the slideshow requested of the funeral home. I was distant, cold and unfeeling - IF you ask my husband. I think I was getting done what was necessary, and there was no time to grieve.

Members of my family, (my own parents), friends and strangers who came through the funeral home questioned how I could remain so put together or why I wasn't crying. I did cry a couple times when certain people entered the funeral home but it was short-lived and few and far between. I did not have time to break down. My mother was standing next to me and was unable to remember the names and faces of people she had known for 30 years. My father was standing next to me and had not stopped sobbing for days. I did not have the luxury of falling apart because there was no one to look after my folks. My cousin - who truly is more like my brother - has never had to deal with a loss. He was young when our grandfather died. This death has hit him like a steam roller. He found it hard to stand unaided. I did not have the luxury of falling apart because the boy who has needed me since he was 16 - needed me again. My 84 year old grandma who just got out of the hospital was frail and tired, my uncle was inconsolable, my aunts too. I did not have the luxury of falling apart because who would prop them up? Who would look after my gram? So there is that.

But to understand why I have the resolve of steel, one would need to understand my childhood, though I decline to get really specific here . . . I was the oldest. As a result, it was my responsibility to look after my sister. Should she get into trouble, do something we'd been warned against, or need anything, I was to set the example, and in failing, I was to accept the punishment.
I was not allowed to cry. Have you ever seen a 3 year old child who was not permitted to cry? That was me. Crying when being punished simply brought more punishment. So I did not cry. The tears could come later, when I was alone. God forbid that I cry when there was nothing to cry about - for I was quickly given a reason to cry. I was stubborn as well, and when old enough to know, I refused to cry. I'd be punished and laugh and exclaim that it did not hurt, which, alas, brought more punishment. What? I was stupid and stubborn . . .

When I was 4 we were on a family trip to the beach. We stopped at a convenience store for snacks and all piled back into the car. I was in the back seat of a four-door boat of a car. I don't recall what car it was. I'd not made it all the way in when my mom slammed the big door closed and crawled into the front seat. I sat in my seat with tears streaming down my face. When my mother noticed, I was admonished for crying "for no reason." It was only when we stopped at the campground to register that anyone noticed that my foot had been caught in the door - and indeed, remained there for a good 10 miles or so. I had not cried out because to do so would have caused anger . . . I stopped crying because that too was not allowed. This was simply one instance of many.

It is against this backdrop that I tell you that I do not fall apart. I take charge of crises, I get things done quickly and efficiently, and I am there to prop up those that need me most . . . but I do not fall apart. To illustrate, my son fell in a parking lot of shale when he was 3 or so. a jagged piece of shale pierced his forehead. There was literally blood everywhere. It looked as if he'd mangled his face and was bleeding from multiple places. I scooped him up, though not before removing my white sweater, and walked him into the fire hall where I knew first aid could be had. As several men stood around panicked at the sight of my tiny boy bleeding all over me (not even noticing I was in only a bra) and backed away, it was up to me to bark orders and take charge. I got the bleeding stopped (despite being there with an EMT) I cleaned up my sobbing boy and I bandaged him myself. I could not rely upon those men, trained in first aid, as they had fallen apart. I did not have the luxury of falling apart because it was my baby who was bleeding and crying. I made the decision to forego stitches - so as not to add to the trauma, and the scar is still visible today.

I broke this cardinal rule of mine when my husband was in his accident last year. I cried, I sobbed, I stayed in bed. . . it did me no good, and accomplished nothing. I can say with conviction that I cried all my tears then.

I am flawed. I am broken. I am without a sister who understands those flaws and imperfections . . . I am stoic. But, I get the job done when it needs to be done. I am a planner. I am not unfeeling, I am simply better at brushing it aside. I am dealing. AND . . . if I am in your corner - and you know if I am . . . I will prop you up when you want to fall. I will love you, support you and make you sammiches . . .I will be there for you no matter what and I will get it done when you can't. So there is also that.