This week, I have been talking about the challenges of dealing with my mother-in-law (MIL’s) sudden death the week before Christmas. In light my child abuse history and negative associations with Christmas already, this has been quite a challenge. I might have to flee to Fiji for Christmas next year.
Hub and my in-laws have been so impressed with how I took over and took care of everyone right after my MIL passed away. My father-in-law (FIL) could barely get the words out when he called to tell me that his wife had just died. I told him that I would tell both of his sons for him. I also told him to write a list of who needed to be notified, and I would take care of it.
When FIL said that he hoped there would be lots of flowers at the funeral, I went out and ordered $200 worth of flowers, broken into three bouquets (one from hub and me, one from our son, and one from my sister and kids) so it would look like more flowers.
When FIL said he hoped that a lot of people would come to the funeral (even though nobody in that family has many friends), I emailed everyone I knew here in town and asked them to come. Even though it was a week before Christmas, over a dozen of my friends showed up to support us, and most of them had never even met my in-laws.
When hub said that he did not want his coworkers to come to the funeral because he did not want them to see him cry, I told his coworkers politely – and then bluntly – not to come. I told hub’s secretary to blame any “misunderstandings” on me if there was any political fallout from this.
I comforted them as they cried. I listened to their very normal and understandable reactions to sudden death and gave them the reassurances that they needed – that she loved them and knew that they loved her. I did everything within my power to ease their pain.
When they wanted a family member to deliver the eulogy but feared not being able to stay composed, I offered to write and deliver the eulogy. I got their input and made sure that everyone liked what I had to say. I held myself together to deliver a beautiful eulogy in front a room filled with people.
So, I was quite taken aback when hub expressed surprise that I had cried some during that week. He thought that my strength came from a lack of caring.
Why is it that people who do not have the same level of strength tend to assume that strength is a result of not caring? Everything I did during that time was from caring. It was incredibly hard for me to do the things that I did the week that my MIL died, but I did them because they had to be done. Cracking up was not an option. Someone had to be the strong one, and I was the only candidate.
Yes, I am strong person. I had to be to survive my childhood. But superheroes bleed, too.
Photo credit: Faith Allen