One Year & Lessons in Grief

• The first time you laugh, or in a moment when you feel happy for the first time, you’re going to feel bad. You’ll question if something is wrong with you because you’ve only been sad, and to feel something the quite opposite in the absence of who you lost feels so wrong, but it’s not. You need to cherish the moments you break through the sadness and can smile and laugh. In the beginning, they might be few and far between, but gradually, they start to happen more frequently, and you’ll feel less guilty.  It is not an insult to them to be happy; they wish nothing but this for you.

  
  

• You might feel relieved, but that doesn't make you a bad person. You can feel relief that they're no longer suffering.

  
  

• You’ll be told grief is like a wave, and it can come out of nowhere, sweeping you off your feet. It is, and this is the best description of it. As my friend reminded me throughout this past year, it's important to ride the wave.  Someone asking you about them who doesn't know they passed. Getting an email addressed to them or about them. Catching a whiff of their scent. The first time you want to pick up the phone, call them and tell them something. These are "grief bombs" that come out of nowhere and catch you unexpectedly, an explosion. The first few that happened to me really caught me off guard, and they still do, but now, I try to cherish the moments and memories that come with it. This is when I feel most alive in my grief, like a check-in that it's still here, I still miss her, I still hurt.

• You’re finally going to understand sadness on a different level. And when your friends experience similar situations, your heart will break a million times over again because you know what it feels like to go through this, and you wouldn’t wish it on anyone in the world. On the flip side, people who haven't experienced death don't know how to handle it. I never knew what to say to people in the past, but I know recognizing the shittiness of the situation is better than nothing at all or awkwardly skating by the elephant in the room (because, face it - grief is a big ass f&&ing elephant). I never got angry when hearing, "I'm sorry for your loss," like some people do. I appreciate the apology, and I'm sorry for my loss, too. If you can share a story about how the person impacted you, it means so much more than you think. I won't forget my old friends who shared stories about my Mom, dating back to high school, and how she impacted them.

• You also might feel overwhelmed, as if sadness follows you or hangs over your head like a dark cloud. Not because YOU are sad but because situations around you are happening, and they’re sad.  It’s okay to need a break from other people’s problems and their sadness. It’s not selfish; as much as it feels it, it’s okay. And I write this a year later, still struggling with the times I couldn’t show up as a true friend this past year because I was too deep in my sadness.  I tell myself the right people, my real friends, get it; they don’t expect more than I can give, but it’s still been hard.  And exhausting.  Being sad and being sad for your people is exhausting. It feels like it never ends.

• Grief manifests in different ways. It’s heavy to carry, heavy to have. It might show up as weight gain or loss. I hate how it feels in my body, and I've struggled all year with it. I try to be forgiving and compassionate towards myself. How can I hate the same body that allows me to run and carries me through grueling distances?

• You might feel angry when people come to you to complain or vent about their problems. You might feel like theirs are nothing compared to yours. Perhaps they're not, but their issues are real to them. It's okay if you don't have the capacity to take in and take on their problems. There's no roadmap to navigating grief, but (I think) a good rule is to put yourself first for a little bit.

You can say no to things if it feels too much.

You should say no.

But also, there are times you should say yes.

• When faced with death and the aftermath of grief, you have two choices. You can stop, be angry, give up, or you can move forward, sad and heartbroken, but kind and compassionate.  You hear it always - be kind; you never know what battle people are fighting. I carried that with me this entire year. Sometimes, I showed my grief and sadness to the world, and other times, I hid it, showing up with a smile on my face while heartbroken on the inside. This year changed me as a human. Though not always easy, I try to lead each day with compassion, kindness, and understanding.

• This is an obvious one, but people will forget it and move on far quicker than you. This doesn't mean they don't care about you, I promise. Loved ones and friends will surround you for the first few weeks, but then gradually, they will become silent, and you'll be left with yourself and your thoughts. The world will carry on while your world has fallen apart. It hurts, it feels weird, but this is part of the journey through which your healing can begin.

• You will miss them every day for the rest of your life. You will feel like a piece of yourself, a piece of your heart, is missing. There is a saying, "I will endure a lifetime of missing you for the privilege of loving you." Losing someone and hurting for them is a privilege. How lucky am I to have loved someone so much that losing them hurts so much?

• Lastly, take it day by day. Again, there is no roadmap to navigating grief - how much easier would it be if we had one? Each day will be different. It's like a terrible rollercoaster that you can't get off of. Surround yourself with people who love you the way you need to be loved, who love you in every form, and who will love you through your darkest days.