Denial Led to My Regret

It is unfortunate that most of us have had to deal with the reality of loss, and with it have had to go through the stages defined as part of the grieving process. I believe the depth and scope of these stages (denial, anger, bargaining, depression and acceptance) for an individual likely depends on the relationship that existed with the one who has been lost.

Even in my teenage years, I lived in reality. I recognized life for what it was, with the ups and downs, the good and the bad. I recognized the fact that life wasn’t all sunshine and rainbows, and nobody lives forever. Being as aware as I was, I always struggled with understanding the concept of denial as a stage in the grieving process. It didn’t make much sense to me. If something happened, even if it was awful, and the loss tremendous, I didn’t understand how anyone could get stuck in a state of denial about the facts of the loss. I was in my early twenties when I finally understood just how real that denial can be.

During the last few years of high school, I had developed a close friendship with a boy. There was nothing romantic about this friendship, which I feel is partly why it meant so much to me. This boy was my friend. He was younger than me by a couple of years, and became like a little brother. He even lived with my family part-time my senior year. He was fun, obnoxious, silly, and we enjoyed each other’s company. But, after I graduated, we lost touch and didn’t see much of each other after I moved away for school.

At about twenty, I was living with my brother and sister-in-law in Phoenix. While I had experienced loss, and there had been death among friends and family throughout my growing up, much of it had been expected or at least distant enough to have spared me the full impact of the stages of grief.

It was just a normal day and I was at work when I got a call from my mom. She let me know that my friend had passed away. Making it even worse, he had been murdered. I was in complete shock and surprise. Emotions the likes of which I can attest to being quite different than that of denial. That came later. After getting off the phone with my mother, I stayed in the back room where I was and tried to process the information I had just received. The shock began to wear off, and that’s when the true denial set in.

I don’t know what is ‘typical’ or ‘normal’ for the amount of time spent in denial, but for me it was days. I kept telling myself that they were wrong and that it wasn’t him. Even though logically it wouldn’t make sense for his identification to be confused with someone else, I couldn’t help but feel denial over the fact of his being gone. I also waited expectantly to have the phone ring and to receive the information that he was ok after all, and that they had been able to save him at the hospital. A million different scenarios went through my head about what I imagined really happened, and all of them resulted in his still being alive. Even when presented by the facts, that did not change, I was unable to accept them at that time.

When it came time for the funeral, which was to be held in Albuquerque (about an eight hour drive from where I was living), I chose not to go. I still wasn’t able to connect with the truth, and even though I didn’t know it at the time, my reluctance to make the drive to attend the funeral was my way of perpetuating the denial. In my mind, if I didn’t go to the funeral, then he wasn’t really dead.

I honestly don’t know when I was able to make it past the stage of denial, but when I did, I fully entered the next stage. Anger was prominent in my mindset whenever I thought about my friend. I was so angry at the person who had done this to my friend as well as at those who had ‘allowed’ it to happen. In my mind, there were plenty of people to blame, and I was angry at all of them.

I don’t really know how I processed through the phase of bargaining. There was nobody to bargain with, no deals to be made. Just wishing things were different. Wishing I had kept in better contact and wishing he were still alive.

I didn’t express outward depression, and I continued on with my day to day living and going to work. I maintained my external appearances and the depression phase led into acceptance. I was finally able to recognize the fact that my friend was gone, and he wasn’t coming back. I managed to fall my way through the common stages of grief, lingering longer in some stages than others, but somehow I made it through.

I miss him. I know that I always will. Even now, so many years later there are still things that remind me of him. There are no second chances, to bartering with reality and way to go back. I will always regret allowing the denial to control me and not going to his funeral to say goodbye.