Grief has been the most isolating yet overbearing feeling I’ve experienced. It’s this shadow that doesn’t leave or a helicopter parent who won’t give you space. It’s a gut feeling you try to ignore but, in the end, you realize you should’ve listened to it and sat with it.
It’s in times of despair that I realize how powerful love is. Where there’s longing, there’s love. Where there’s pain, there’s love. Grief is a reminder that our time on Earth is limited and that what matters most is how you choose to spend it. My grandmother chose to spend her time loving me. She chose to spoil me with spoonfuls of peanut butter because I loved it so much. She chose to dance with me to 2010s music on the TV. She chose to pour her love into her grandchildren because family was all that she needed. She bravely left her home in Trinidad to build a new life here. The one thing she didn’t do was teach me how to adjust to a world without her singing and dancing and spoonfuls of peanut butter. She didn’t tell me how difficult it would be to introduce myself, only me knowing that I have the privilege to wear the same name.
Her name couldn’t have fit her better. According to Google, ‘Lyris’ is derived from the Greek word ‘Lyre,’ which translates to ‘harp.’ It’s associated with music, poetry, and the god Apollo, symbolizing harmony, creativity, and inspiration. My grandmother restored harmony in my life in times of chaos and inspired my many aspirations. She always had a way with words, and perhaps that’s why I started writing articles and poetry in the first place. In honor of her and what her name symbolizes, I’ve decided to create a list of things I’ve learned, and am still learning, while on my grief journey.
- Who you have in your corner matters.
Having people I can trust and who are supportive of me has made this process more bearable. I’m grateful that I’m still close with my childhood friends, and I couldn’t imagine my life without them!
- Find ways to foster the connection between you and your loved one.
Since losing my grandmother, I’ve become more aware of the potential signs that she’s right next to me. Her favorite color was purple, so whenever I see that color out in public, I think to myself, “I see you, and I feel you, Grandma.” The same goes for sunflowers. On my shelf, I have a picture of a sunflower that I painted for her a couple of years ago because she has always reminded me of one: tall, bright, and beautiful. I recently added a picture of her holding a bouquet of roses to my nightstand so I can see her smile first thing in the morning.
In moments where I’m missing her dearly, I like to listen to Soca music, nourish my body with Caribbean food, or wrap her purple crochet shawl around my shoulders and pretend she’s giving me a big hug. I do all of these things to comfort myself and only engage in a practice if it feels right. I can’t stress enough how important it has been for me to do something because it makes me feel good and not because I feel like I should. Let’s be honest, social media is flooded with posts sharing a grocery list of things we’re “supposed to do,” and that can be overwhelming. Experimenting with different activities and sticking to the ones I like the most has been helpful for me.
- If the tears are knocking, answer the door.
This is a challenging one. Sometimes I struggle to acknowledge my grief, but I’m proud to say that I’ve gotten a little bit better at simply letting myself feel and not being afraid to cry, even when I’m walking down a street in broad daylight (true story).
- Just because they are gone, doesn’t mean they can’t be a part of your reason ‘why.’
My grandmother has been my reason ‘why’ for a lot of the things I’ve accomplished thus far. My next big accomplishment is walking the stage in May. One of my grandparents’ many dreams for my cousins and I is that we get a college education, which we have done, but it feels wrong that one of them won’t be alive to see it. Unlike them, I had one dream, which was to see my grandmother sitting in the audience.
Just before she passed, I was set on taking the semester off because I didn’t want to bear the new reality that was waiting for me. I thought that if I took the semester off, I could delay my graduation and focus on rebuilding myself. Instead, I used her passing as a motivation to keep going. She would want me to finish my last year of undergrad and embark on new adventures. It was during this time I realized that by continuing my journey, I’m continuing hers by extension. I get to do what I do, and I’m grateful for that. I haven’t exactly discovered my purpose yet, but whatever it may be, I’m certain she’s a part of it.
- Support groups aren’t all that terrible.
It took me a while before I could muster up the courage to attend a support group. The idea had always sounded somewhat appealing to me, but I was scared to join one because I’d never experienced anything like it before. When I lost loved ones in the past, I turned to my journal and stuck with writing as a means to cope, and that worked for me. However, I learned that grief evolves and my needs change. Ironically, the hardest part was finding an active support group that offered virtual support and not the participation itself. I thought there’d be more accessible support groups, considering how humane the experience is. Nonetheless, I’m grateful that I had a pleasant first meeting, and it’s been comforting to know I’m not alone.
- Figure out what brings your spark back and do more of it.
This is related to number two, but I feel compelled to mention it again. In addition to feeding the undying connection between my grandmother and I, I’ve been trying to feed the love for myself. I recently learned how to make adorable keychains using a wide assortment of colorful beads I found online. It’s a fun and creative way to pass the time when I’m bored, and it gives me something to pour my energy into while learning a new skill.
I also started going to hot yoga regularly, which I never thought I’d do. There’s something truly therapeutic about sweating everything out at the end of the week because I get to imagine my body letting go of everything that no longer serves me. I used to practice yoga more frequently in high school, so I’ve been enjoying my time back on the mat.
If you, too, are on your grief journey, a journey with no obvious end, I hope you can find some solace in these words. These lessons are not meant to serve as advice but are an attempt to make grief a less taboo subject. Remember, this is your journey, and no one can tell you how to walk it.
I love you, Grandma. Forever and always.