Numbness is a defense mechanism. There are those who say it's unhealthy but I disagree. It's like an emotional bandage until we're ready to heal.

I know this is hard, honey. I'm really sorry.

It is literally shock. Just like you can't feel it right away when you (say) accidentally cut off a finger.

I'm with Dean on this; this is God's way of giving you time to emotionally deal with things without losing it.

This is something I don't talk about very often, but it might help you. I lost my father to cancer 20 years ago. As with your father I had several months (almost a year) to get a grip on things. What made it harder is that I had lost my older brother to leukemia about a year and a half previously. I was about 21 at the time.

What helped me was that I could say goodbye. My father lasted long enough to get past one more birthday before he died. I had sent him a card, and telephoned him a day later to see if he had gotten it. He had, and we talked about "stuff" for a few minutes. Before I hung up I told him I loved him.

A few days later he died.

So I'm there with you, Rosemary. This is just (Someone's) way of giving you a breathing space, that's all.

Maybe what I put on my father's birthday card can help make some sense out of things, or put it in perspective, or whatever. It's from the Rubaiyat of Omar Khayyam:

(verse 50)
"The Moving Finger writes; and, having writ,
Moves on: nor all thy Piety nor Wit
Shall lure it back to cancel half a Line,
Nor all thy Tears wash out a Word of it."

(verse 73)
"Ah Love! could thou and I with Fate conspire
To grasp this sorry Scheme of Things entire,
Would not we shatter it to bits---and then
Re-mould it nearer to the Heart's Desire!"

While I couldn't "re-mould" things nearer to my heart's desire, I did have to reconcile myself with the "moving finger".

Perhaps this is time to remember the Irish convention of the wake: the sons and daughters of Eire aren't indifferent to a friends' death, but rather use the opportunity to celebrate the life that is still around, and available, to us.

That numbness... Ah, yes, that numbness...

Several years ago I learned that one of my closest friends had been diagnosed with lymphatic cancer. As soon as I got off the phone, I wept and howled like a mad desert Bedouin. We had been friends for many, many years. He was almost like an older brother to me.

The next day, at his bedside in the hospital, I broke down and wept again. And I wept over the months that followed, every time I would go to see him.

But when word came, seven months after that initial diagnosis, that my friend had died, I found that no more tears would come. I remember stumbling blankly out of the visitation, standing on the steps outside, and saying to a friend, "Let's get the hell out of here." The next day, the funeral, serving as a pallbearer... I felt as if I was marching forward, one step at a time, on autopilot. Finally the tears did come, once, briefly, as I wept at the graveside with my friend's parents.

Then days and weeks in which, for no reason I could fathom, I felt anger. Torrents of molten anger. Not so much at the loss of my friend-- more at other people around me, as if something within me was seeking out a lightning rod. I managed to confine this anger to the journal on my hard drive. Outwardly I was still marching through my daily routine. Like a robot.

Rosemary, I know I can't comprehend what you're going through right now. People deal with grief and loss in such different and individual ways. But I am keeping you in my prayers.

And death shall have no dominion.
Dead men naked they shall be one
With the man in the wind and the west moon;
When their bones are picked clean and the clean bones gone,
They shall have stars at elbow and foot;
Though they go mad they shall be sane,
Though they sink through the sea they shall rise again;
Though lovers be lost love shall not;
And death shall have no dominion.
--Dylan Thomas

My mother died when I was sixteen (not too many years ago, in fact). She died exactly, to-the-second, three hours before her 40th birthday.

"They" say that people often die, strangely, around important times in their lives. Birthdays, anniversaries, special holidays, etc. Nobody really knows why, but it's true, and it's evident even in your description of recent events. I'm sure it isn't a conscious thing. To me, I somehow believe that the soul/spirit that connects the infinite to the finite knows these things and knows they are important.

I, too, felt numbness. I was numb for too many years until I finally broke down and FELT. I believe it's a self-survival mechanism, and I do believe it's completely healthy and normal. My mother's death felt too real to be real. If that makes any sense. I can handle arguments with my husband, or the electricity going out during a storm, etc etc...but death? Death is something that I don't encounter every day, yet remains a mysterious truth, ever present. I am never prepared for it.

My heart goes out to you.

Rose,

I know exactly what you mean. I think the reason you feel nothing for this one, is because of the other 2. For most people, they only have to deal with death once every couple years. For you, this is 3 deaths in the span of 12 months. Thats really hard for one person to deal with.

At this point I'm sure you're feeling anger. Like saying What the F&^% is going on here. Maybe not, but at least thats how I felt after 3. (Steve is 5 for me) Since you're my sister I can only imagine you're feeling the same way.

I just want you to know that I'm here for you, as only a little brother can be!

Jerry

I was 11 years old when I lost both of my
parents on Christmas Day. I am still grieving
7 years later, I cry myself to sleep every
night they were all I had. I live alone I do
work constantly I see my therapist more than
my friends. But through all that I have
realized losing them is only making me stronger
through the years. Grieving can be a forever
long process but you have to learn to love again and God is not the enemy. For the ones that know how I feel the numbness and emptyness in your heart is normal.

I was 11 years old when I lost both of my
parents on Christmas Day. I am still grieving
7 years later, I cry myself to sleep every
night they were all I had. I live alone I do
work constantly I see my therapist more than
my friends. But through all that I have
realized losing them is only making me stronger
through the years. Grieving can be a forever
long process but you have to learn to love again and God is not the enemy. For the ones that know how I feel the numbness and emptyness in your heart is normal.