What to say to someone like me

Time sure is moving quickly isn't it?  It  feels like I just brought Kellen home from the hospital and yet 2013 is coming to a close.  One of the things I've noticed as time is going on is that people's reactions when they hear what happened are changing.  When it first happened and I told people, I would get a lot of looks of horror, genuine emotion, even some people who cried with me.  Now when I have to say "my son passed away a little over a month ago" I get a lot of "Oh, I'm so sorry to hear that," said back to me.  It's obviously hard to convey emotion on a computer but you get the idea.  As if, since it's been a month it's somehow less horrifying and emotional.  

It hit me yesterday that it's only going to get harder for me and my family as time goes on, and for everyone else it gets easier to wrap their brain around it.  Not that anyone wants to see this kind of thing happen but they can bounce back while I will never be able to.  It reminded me of both times I gave birth.  At first you're saying "I just had a baby" and that means something to people.  It means you're getting no sleep, you're flaky, you probably look like a hot mess, you may not have bounced back to your pre baby body yet, and people are perfectly accepting of that.  But after about a year if you keep saying "I just had a baby" it doesn't quite have the same effect. 

When Kellen passed away my Pastor told us that a lot of people will probably not know what to say to you so they just won't say anything at all.  It's not because they don't care but they just don't know what to say.  They feel like they need to have the answers for you and since they don't they just don't say anything to you.  Boy was he right about that.  Pretty much every person that messages me or runs in to me dances around it then usually says "I just don't know what to say."  I don't blame you at all.  I would be the same way.  

I thought I might tell you some things that I find helpful.  Not everyone grieves the same way so these may not work for everyone experiencing loss but in my limited experience I've found these things helpful: 

• Ask how I'm doing in this moment.  Asking how I'm doing in general can be a loaded question because I can't wrap all that emotion into a sentence and I don't want to just dump all my baggage on some poor unsuspecting soul who just asked how I was doing but if you just ask how I'm doing right now I can tell you honestly and it will open up the door if I feel like talking more. 
• If you have lost a child as well I want to talk to you.  A lot.  I've had people that I've known for a while come forward and tell me they've lost a child and I didn't even know but I have to tell you it's so comforting to talk to someone who has been through it.  I hate to say it's like a club because that's no club you ever want to be a part of, but there is comfort in the words of people that have walked this road and have continued on. 
• That being said, while I appreciate the sentiment behind it, the references and comparisons to having lost a grandparent or something like that are not my favorite.  I always smile and nod just because I know it's people's way of being supportive and they want to say something so they tell me about how their grandpa died or their aunt or something and while I understand what a loss that might be to them it is absolutely nothing like what I'm going through.  We all anticipate our grandparents will probably die in our lifetime, but not our children.  This is so unnatural and out of order. This is the absolute worst pain you could ever experience.  I wouldn't wish it on anyone.  
• As I referenced earlier, many people feel the need to have answers in order to talk to me about it.  I get it.  We all want to be problem solvers.  But let me address this one right now.  THERE IS NO ANSWER.  I don't need you to solve this for me.  Just be there.  
• Hugs are awesome.  Pretty straightforward. Just don't be upset if you end up with tears all over your shirt. 
• Lastly, my absolute worst fear is that people will forget about Kellen.  He was a human being that took up almost my entire day from the moment my eyes opened in the morning (and the several times during the middle of the night) until I laid my head down on the pillow and closed my eyes at night.  He and Farrah each have 100% of my heart (yes math people it is possible, trust me.)  So I know I will never forget him.  In fact I can't imagine a time when I won't be thinking of him every minute of everyday.  But the world is moving on.  It's becoming more evident.  So don't feel the need to brush it under the rug.  Most of the time I would love nothing more than to share a story about his funny faces or the funny faces Farrah would make when she was about to go in for a smooch on her brother.  I stumbled upon these pictures that I believe were taken around April this year.  I loved the lighting.  A very peaceful scene.

*Please understand these are things that have worked for me and by no means do I think they're blanket fixes for the entire grieving population but I just wanted to express some of my thoughts on the subject.