Grief and I have a complicated relationship, and I never know what to expect from it. I might be laughing one minute and crying the next. I no longer regard grief as merely a negative feeling, and it is not something we can erase from our lives. When we experience grief, it stays with us for the rest of our lives. Grief has several stages and processing them all can be challenging. But acceptance, the last stage, has provided me the opportunity to write and share something this vulnerable. Acceptance does not imply that you simply moved on from your grief. That is impossible, as grief will always be with you. Instead, it means you’ve progressed with it as you learn how to live life with grief by your side. I haven’t mastered grief and there is no right or wrong way to grieve. There is no timeline for healing, and there are still days when I scream into my pillow and cry, wondering why? You can’t be an expert on grief, but if more people are willing to talk about it, the taboo and uneasiness surrounding death will lessen. So, here’s my letter to the storm of emotions that is grief.
Dear grief,
You entered my life with little to no forewarning. I wasn’t entirely ready for you to be a companion in my life forever. You still possess the same strength that you did when I was a 13-year-old girl sobbing in the hospital waiting room. Although I remember being promised that you would get easier with time, I don’t believe that to be the case. Most times, you’re like a tranquil sea, and I can briefly relax in you. When I least expect it, you rush at me in waves that completely overwhelm me, like a devastating tsunami. You fully engulf me — even when I fight so hard to escape, you keep pulling me under until I drown in the abyss. I brace for your impact on days such as holidays, but on Oct. 12, the day my father passed away, you are at your most destructive stage. I feel claustrophobic as the walls start to close in around me while I gasp for air. My chest starts to feel heavy as if a ton of bricks were dropped on my heart.
You possess an indescribable power; you make me cry and you make me mad but strangely, I do not hate you. I can’t hate you because you remind me that the sadness I’m enduring is simply love everlasting. You remind me of my love for my father, of all the affection I want to give but can’t. Grief is love with nowhere to go; it is all the unspoken love I feel for someone who is no longer here. I cannot hate you because you are inevitable to avoid and you are the price we pay for love. There is no instruction manual or handbook to teach me how to live life with you lingering by my side. You are an experience that everyone has, most often more than once, but you are unique to each individual. You are a teacher and I have learned many valuable lessons from you. I learned how precious time is and that I shouldn’t take anyone for granted. You shaped the person that I am today as I learn how to live with you accompanying me.
I’ve discovered that the only way to deal with you is to let you in, even if it’s painful. It took me a while to accept you because I thought it would be easier to ignore the agony you carry. It was simpler to push you away because you had not only entered my life that day, but also that of my sister and mother. I didn’t think I could be weak and give in to you because I needed to be strong for them. Eventually, you caught up to me as a wave of emotions swept over me, transporting me back to that day in the hospital waiting room. I believe a part of me died that day as well, and I envy the days when I could live my life without this eternal void in my heart. I miss my father all the time, but I’ve realized he’s always with me, just not physically. He will live on in my heart as long as I live this life that I have been given. I can’t hate you, grief, because you are a reminder of the love I was fortunate enough to have. I can’t hate you because you’re just love unfinished.
Love,
Cynthia
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