Grief

“Grief /noun/: deep sorrow, especially that caused by someones death.” Google.

“Grief is the response to loss, particularly to the loss of someone or some living thing that has died, to which a bond or affection was formed.” Wikipedia.

I am grieving. I have been grieving. And it is a very unpleasant, confusing, most lingering feeling we as humans will ever experience. I have been grieving since the split with my son’s father happened in late August. Some days are really good days, and some days are really not good days. In the midst of working through that grief, we lost my maternal grandfather. January 23rd. Comforted and safe with my grandmother, my mom, my two aunts, and his two dog babies by his side. It was expected, as the chemo and radiation he used in attempt to combat his lung and pancreatic cancer did not help. He was given a week to a month, and then wasn’t expected to make it through the end of his last week.

We spent the last few weekends at my grandparents house, watching him die. It was the most difficult thing to see, especially because all we wanted to do was help and take away all his pain, and we couldn’t. The only thing that would take his pain away required us to lose him. That’s not fair. And that’s not easy to process. Grieving his loss started long before we actually lost him. No amount of warning or heads up can prepare you to lose someone you love.

While we were going through pictures, making plans for his services, picking out keepsake urns, listening to his favorite music, laughing at good times, leaning onto each other, and holding on to his memory, my sisters and I got a call that our paternal grandfather died. Unexpectedly. Alone. 5 Days later.

Are you fucking kidding me?

We were all still grieving and processing the loss of my maternal grandfather, and are now challenged to grieve and process the loss of my paternal grandfather too? And I am still grieving my own personal loss? I told my mom I didn’t know how much more my heart could take. I still don’t know how much my heart can take. Three of the most important men in my life, gone. Two only 5 days apart. And their deaths were so different.

Maternal grandfather – expected, surrounded by people he loves, got to say goodbye

Paternal grandfather – unexpected, alone, never said goodbye

Having experienced both in 5 days, I can’t tell you which one is harder. They both suck. They both leave you questioning what you are doing with your life and make you fear your own death. They both give you regret not having said the things you wished you said, and regret not visiting or calling more. They both leave you sad and lonely. It is incredibly hard to grieve and process one loss. I would ask you to imagine grieving three losses at the same time, but I wish this upon no one. It is the second hardest thing I’ve ever had to do (birth being the first).

The Wednesday before losing my maternal grandfather, I was able to talk to my therapist, and she told me to grieve. I told her I wasn’t sure I wanted to miss any days of work because I thought being at home would be harder since I would be surrounded by sadness. She didn’t like that idea, and encouraged me to take time off to grieve the losses I was having. I took her advice, and I took days off the following week to be with family. When I got the call about my paternal grandfather Friday morning, I was at work, and immediately left to be back with them, then spent the entire weekend surrounded by family. It was so sad, but it was also so beautiful. We all had different memories that made us happy, and different triggers that made us sad, but we experienced it all together. Being with family and friends helps us temporarily forget the losses we are experiencing, and supports us through our grief of them.

I had done a good job (a fantastic job) of temporarily allowing myself to avoid grieving the split of my ex and I. I moved back home, and was spoiled with not having to pay bills or grocery shop. I’d occasionally make my parents dinner, but my mom handled most of the cooking. I always had a babysitter if I wanted to go out for a late dinner or drink with a friend, got my hair done and had manicures. Dove into powerful song lyrics and quotes on Instagram. My role at the school became a bit more demanding. And I had my son to take care of and focus on. Don’t get me wrong; like I said, some days from late August through January were incredibly hard, but I was surviving. I wasn’t really grieving. I was doing everything in my power to NOT grieve. I was a strong and independent woman you know? It wasn’t until my maternal grandfather was given such a short amount of time left of his life that it really started to hit me that I hadn’t fully grieved my first and most difficult loss months ago.

So, to combat the grieving, I decided to invest alone time in listening to TED Talks. The videos I’ve been listening to have all been about grief and loss and heartbreak and how to pick yourself back up when something traumatic happens to you. My heart has been breaking and re-breaking for almost 6 months now, so I was hoping to find some validation without having to share my story because sometimes, words are hard. One woman spoke on “What makes life worth living in the face of death.” She started her closing remarks with how she would teach her daughter about grief and pain, and it resonated with me – not only because of her words and her message, but because her daughter’s name is Katie. She said my name as if she was speaking to me.

“Katie, engaging in the full range of experience, living and dying, love and loss, is what we get to do. Being human doesn’t happen despite suffering; it happens within it. When we approach suffering together, when we choose not to hide from it, our lives don’t diminish. They expand. I’ve learned that cancer isn’t always a battle. Or if it is, maybe it’s a fight for something different than we thought. Our job isn’t to fight fate, but to help each other through – not as soldiers, but as shepherds. That’s how we make it ‘ok’ even when it’s not.”

Wow. Yes! When we don’t allow ourselves to grieve our losses, wounds, and disappointments, we are doomed to keep reliving them. And that’s exactly how I’ve felt every time a song comes on and triggers a sadness. Or a picture pops up on TimeHop of a fun memory we shared together. Temporarily masking our grief helps us feel better in the moment, but if we don’t face the grief, it will never truly go away. It will never feel easier.

So. I am going to grieve. I am going to grieve all of my losses and wounds and disappointments I’ve experienced in the last six months. It is better to have loved and lost, than never to have loved at all, and I am pretty lucky to have loved, and still get to love, three incredible men in my short life. And it’s pretty special to grieve over three very important people.

Don’t be afraid to grieve. Be vulnerable to it. Allow yourself to go through the process. You might feel broken in the process, but the fact of the matter is, none of us actually really break.