Unboxing it all.
Grief doesn’t come with a checklist. I’m fully aware that if it did it would be never ending - written on a roll of paper that stretches to infinity.
This the first time that I’ve let myself feel grief deeply without working to shove it into a box that I then put in another, sturdier, box and then stick it on a shelf never to be revisited. And, damnit, the act of feeling grief this time has caused my shelf full of boxes to fall down and every single one of them has opened and the things that have spilled out are wild.
Why am I sad about miscarriages I had in the 90s and remembering details I haven’t thought of in years? Why do I suddenly grieve the loss of my aunts and uncle more deeply than I did 10-20 years ago when they died tragically young? Why am I painfully aware of all of the losses that my friends have gone through that I didn’t show up for because I was avoiding feeling? Why am I terrified to mourn publicly because if I open these boxes I’m not sure how I’ll ever put everything back where it belongs? Why do I think it needs to go back on a shelf?
“It takes enormous trust and courage to allow yourself to remember.”
This quote by Bessel A. van der Kolk in The Body Keeps the Score: Brain, Mind, and Body in the Healing of Trauma keeps ringing in my brain as I work through these questions. I’m not going to write publicly about each grief but I am going to write about each of them in order to work through feelings that I have repressed for years. The list is long. I will make the time. It will make a difference.
My grandfather’s memorial is this next weekend. His whole (small) family is gathering graveside for a flag ceremony and then will host an open house for anyone that wants to come and share memories with us. We miss him deeply, dearly, but his death was not a surprise and we’ve had nearly five months to adjust to this new normal without our favorite 98 year old. I have spent three of those months trying to steel myself to keep Grandpa’s grief separate from my grief for Pete. Unfortunately, that’s creating an internal conflict that doesn’t feel honoring to the memory of both of them.
They had a unique relationship. One that most people don’t understand - I surely didn’t always. It was often loud and kindof annoying. It created conflict with family members who didn’t fully appreciate its depth. These men actually loved each other. I think I gave Pete a lot of grace at times because of their closeness. I think grace is what I’m going to need, both from myself and others, this weekend as we gather to celebrate Grandpa Bill. I will be mourning the incredible grandpa that I had 46 years with but I will also be mourning that Pete couldn’t be there to celebrate this man that he loved so much. I will also be angry that his suicide conflated these losses for me and my family. I will also work - minute by minute - to not shove this grief down. It all deserves to be felt. It’s okay to cry in public. It’s also okay to disappear for a minute or two (or more) if it’s just simply too much. I cannot anticipate each possible moment. It might be fine. It might be awful. It might be everything all at once. It will be what it will be. I will stay present for it all. (And, I’m quite grateful that my kids are all going to be with me for several days before and after because whew…it’s gonna be something.)
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