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I’ve thought about loss and grief a lot in my life, because I've lost people. And I’ve grieved. And I keep losing people, so I keep grieving.
But you know what? Grief isn’t always when people die; it’s when things end. It’s when you know or think something may or will end. There aren’t words that can fix it or make it any better- there just aren’t. There are some things that words can’t describe, they can’t ever be accurate, and loss is certainly one of them.
There are multiple stages of grief for a reason, partially because you grieve many times. It's terrible- there’s no other way to put it. It. Sucks. It feels like you’re dying, slowly but inevitably dying; like you’ll never get better.
There’s denial, but even that can only work so long. You can distract yourself, work yourself to exhaustion, pretend everything’s okay. Soon you’ll have to let it out. Every single ounce of emotion. Everything, and if you don't- if you don't you're going to pop like a balloon trying acupuncture.
So you let it out.
You have to be safe, be careful not to let it out on anyone else. It’ll get ugly very quickly. It just will.
Scream.
Scream until you have no more air in your lungs. Scream until you have no voice anymore. Scream until it aches to breathe. Scream until you can’t anymore. Scream until the police show up at your house because they heard someone in distress. Just let it out.
Cry.
Cry until you’re gasping for breath. Cry those ugly horrible sobs you'd be ashamed for anyone else to see. Cry until it hurts more physically than emotionally; even just for a moment. Cry until you run out of tears and you get a headache from dehydration. Drink some water. Cry again.
Let it out. If you don’t you will break. Break like glass on cement, break like…you’ll just break. There is no beautiful or poetic way to put it. No one is beautiful when they break. It is heartbreaking and oh so painful.
It's not a question, you will break at some point. Maybe in an hour, maybe a day, maybe a week, maybe months, maybe even years, but it will happen. It’s inevitable, its destined.
If you try to hold it in it’ll tear you apart, rip you at the seams, destroy everything in you. No sewing machine can put that back together. No thread is strong enough to sew you back like the way you were before. It will be like a star imploding, there will be more and more pressure. Soon you won’t be able to handle anymore, and you’ll implode. Not explode. No, this will go in and completely destroy you before it radiates out and effects everything around you.
Grief is more horrible than words can describe. But that’s okay. Because you need to do it. Because that’s how you start to heal. You can’t just skip to the acceptance, it doesn’t work like that. You don’t heal in a day. No one does. It takes time- drawn out, agonizing time.
You’re strong. Okay? You are. It’s okay to break. It’s okay to cry. It’s okay to yell. You need to in order to heal. It doesn’t make you weak- in a way, it makes you stronger.
So let yourself be sad. Let yourself be angry. Let yourself be pissed. Let yourself be confused and let yourself feel whatever emotion you are feeling.
It’s confusing. It doesn’t make sense. It isn’t fair. There’s no excuse. I don’t have an explanation. I don’t have the answers. I don’t know if these words even mean anything. They probably don’t; not to anyone but me anyway. It's kinda like some old writing I scribbled down and shoved in a drawer. It helps me now, but no one will ever see it, no one will ever know. These words somehow mean nothing and yet mean everything.
You can’t do this alone. No one can. It’s okay to take some time to grieve on your own, in your own way; but in the end, people need people. There will be someone there for you…there will.
…
Sometimes you get to say goodbye. Sometimes you don’t. I don't really think I did, but it's not like it truly matters anymore.
Both hurt unbearably. If you don’t get to say goodbye, then you never get to have that closure; the closure of knowing you were in their thoughts- And that’s one of the hardest things that can happen, that you can experience. The guilt.
But if you do get to say goodbye…just know that there are no right words. No matter how hard you try you may never be able to find the right final words. It may never be enough. There isn’t enough time. You won't be able to say everything you've wanted. But say something. A joke, a movie quote you both enjoyed- just something. Meaningful. Memorable.
Don't feel bad if you can’t find the right words. Don’t feel regret if you don’t know what to say. Don’t feel bad if you can’t say goodbye; I myself couldn't even say the word goodbye.
There are some things that no matter what you say, it may never sound like it’s enough. There are some things that words could never be able to explain. There are some things that there are no words for.
‘I love you’ is an important one though. If you love them, say that. Say that and hope that wherever they go, that they remember how much you love them.
…
It doesn’t make sense. At all. It never will. People can try to come up with excuses and reasons, saying it’s part of the plan, part of the journey. But it doesn’t make sense. It doesn’t make sense and you don’t need to understand it; life and death isn't just something you can understand.
Let yourself be confused. It’s okay to not get it and to not want to get it.
…
It’s okay to switch between the stages. To cry and be hurt and sad and mourn, then to be suddenly screaming that it’s not fair. And you’re right, it isn’t fair. They didn’t deserve it. They should still be here. You should still be with them. It isn’t right. It’s okay to not be okay.
…
But this is not a time to mourn.
This is to celebrate their life. Yes, the short life that was here, and is gone. The life that was here but is now gone- the life that is hopefully being lived ‘up there’. We should celebrate because they are having the biggest celebration up there. We should be joyful. Because he is no longer in pain, because he no longer shall worry, because he no longer is stuck in the confines of his body. Because he is living a life more magnificent than we could ever imagine. There is joy more than we could ever comprehend up there, because he’s there now. It is more beautiful than any artist could ever capture, than any words can describe.
He is not only okay; he is great. So, so great. There is joy. We may not feel it, but whoever is up there feels it. He isn’t dead, no he’s more alive than ever, and I- we should be happy about that.
Again, It’s okay to be sad, but then let yourself feel joy, or at least know that there is joy. That it’s all gonna be okay eventually, that he’s okay. Feel joy because he was- is alive, because there is a celebration, he is in his house, and maybe- maybe he’s with Him. Feel joy because he would want us to be joyful. Feel joy because maybe one day we’ll see him again.
But you know what I realized? I have to believe in Heaven. I need to. Because that is The Happy Ending. Because if I don’t then I really can’t get a happy ending, he can't get a happy ending, and if that’s true then there really is no hope, for any of us. I have to believe because otherwise, what’s the point?
At least this is what I tell myself in order to not cry again…to break again.
But it's okay to break, right?...
…
The day he died it started off pouring, it was dark and gloomy and awful. It matched the mood perfectly. But the weather changed, it became sunny and bright and beautiful. The most beautiful day we’ve had in a while.
I like to think that it started so dark because we’re in that darkness, that despair. But it became so bright because of the joy everyone up there is experiencing. They are feeling joy and so they gave us some light, to let us know.
…
It’s the day of the wake. It’s sunny and bright and beautiful. I’d rather it be dark and gloomy and awful. But tomorrow is the funeral, I want tomorrow to be bright. Tomorrow is a celebration of life. But today…today is a day to mourn a loss. The biggest loss I’ve ever known.
I’m wearing blue. As much blue as I could find; a wristband, the worn down baseball hat he bought me one year at a Biscuits game, his old scarf. You see, blue was… is his color.
…
The wake was hard to say the least. I’m supposed to be strong. Be strong for May. She lost her husband but she spent the wake wiping my tears and telling me how much he loved me .
Isn’t it supposed to be the other way around? Shouldn’t I have hugged her and told her how much he loved her?
I’m just that weak…
How can I be this weak?
…
The casket was open at the wake. That-seeing his body, that was what made it really real. He always held such a large presence, he’s never looked so small. The coffin looked too big for his body. I never thought he could look small…
…
The day of the funeral was sunny too. It was sunny and warm and bright. I didn’t want it to be. I wanted it to be as dark as I feel, as horrible as this is. But it just wasn’t. It was almost too bright, you couldn't even face the Sun without being blinded.
I already cried the day before, but it wasn’t enough. It took too much willpower to not break down just on the car ride to the church. It’s a small church, it’s what he would have wanted. Small and intimate.
The car ride was silent, May tried to start a conversation a couple times but I could barely muster a word. I felt bad, but I just couldn’t do it.
There were tears but also laughter. I’ve never seen so many people in my church before. Not even on Christmas or Easter or any wedding have I seen so many people in the little church. His casket was there and open. But I couldn’t look at him again, not like that.
It was a blur. Hugs and solemn pity filled words. As soon as it started I just wanted it to be over. I know I should have paid attention and held onto all the stories that were shared. They asked me to speak. I couldn't do it. They say it’s okay but I know I’m a disappointment.
The burial is later in the week. I know I’m supposed to go. But I just can’t. I can’t do that. I know I’m weak and disappointing but I can’t do it.
…
Blue is his color. That sounds strange. It sounds wrong. Such a happy person you would think a more traditionally happy color, like orange. Such a bright person you would think a more stereotypically bright color. Maybe red or yellow. But no. He was not stereotypical. His color is blue.
It is not sad or gloomy. It is the color of a sky on a perfect summer day. The ocean when the waves have calmed. You may say blue is not warmth but no one can deny that warm feeling you get inside you when you look up and see a clear blue sky and feel the warmth of the sun.
…
Boiling hot coffee and loud laughter
Aqua blue and royal purple
Chocolate covered strawberries and soup
He is an enigma and I couldn't love him more
He is patience and kindness
When he talks to you it’s like you’re the only person in the world to him
When he laughs there’s a twinkle in his eye that I used to think was just a concept invented in stories
His laughs are so loud and unapologetic that I aspire to feel so free to be myself
He is joy
I never thought a human being could embody joy so much
But he is full of surprises
I couldn’t miss him more
I could never love him less
Even when years pass and I only have memories to cling to
He’ll never lose his shine
And in my eyes he'll never truly die.
I hope I could even just feel a fraction of the joy he radiated with every breath
…
But this is what I tell myself when I grieve. I don’t know if it’s right or healthy but that’s how I’m trying to survive. I don’t know any better. I need to try to survive…
…
I don’t know if I can feel joy. Not about this. At least not yet. I know he would want me to. But he would also want me to heal. And I’m not healed yet. Will I ever be?
Maybe one day I’ll feel joy. Maybe one day I’ll be okay.
Maybe one day I’ll find out what I need to feel joy.