What I Wish You Knew About My Pain

Please don’t treat me differently than before. 

I’m not contagious.

I don’t need you to say or do anything magical—it won’t bring them back. 

You can’t fix my pain.

Please know you’re not going to remind me of something I haven’t already thought of. My world is shattered. And honestly, it’s okay to talk about them. It brings me comfort to hear their name, even if it hurts at the same time.

Please don’t tell me to be strong. Don’t put that pressure on me. I don’t need to be strong. I am broken. I just need to be real.

But please don’t make it worse by ignoring me. This pain makes it hard to breathe. 

Sometimes I wonder how I’ll go on without them. And when I feel that way, don’t try to list all the things I should be grateful for. Give me grace. I’m scared. Just hear what my world feels like. Embrace my pain.

Another thing, I don’t want to hear that you understand. You don’t know the extent of my pain. And even if you can relate, this moment isn’t about you. I don’t want to hear about your pain right now.

My pain is real. I’m not ready to compare grief.

Also—yes, I may be mad at God. So I don’t want to hear that I need to pray more, or that “God loves the brokenhearted.” I might believe that deep down, but I don’t feel it right now. Please don’t say, “God has a plan” or “We just don’t know His path.” That only makes me feel ashamed for hurting.

Give me space, but not too much. I may push you away, but that’s not what I truly want. I just don’t know what I want, except to have them back.

So don’t ask me what I need. I want to scream. I want the pain to stop. And please don’t say, “Call if you need anything.” Because I probably won’t. I don’t know what I need, and I don’t know how to ask.

There is no such thing as closure. I won’t "get over" this. Life as I knew it is gone.

If you care about me, ask me about my pain. Hold space for it. 

Let me show my grief without judgment. And whatever you do, don’t say, “They wouldn’t want you to be sad” or “They’d want you to move on.” That crushes me and fills me with shame.

Today, I’m broken. I don’t know how I’ll survive this.

But—if you do what I’ve asked… If you love me just as I am, I will heal.

Part of me died with them. I am forever changed, and I don’t know how to move forward right now. But I will heal—if I’m allowed to feel all of this.

Just love me as I am. That’s all I need today.



Sincerely,
Mike O’Connell

O’Connell Family Funeral Homes