Grief & Happiness

Sometimes I feel guilty being happy.

Early in my grief, when every second of every day felt like a struggle, it felt empowering to share the moments of joy. It felt brave. My world had been ripped apart but I was still l-i-v-i-n.
But somewhere along the way. those moments of joy became harder to share.

I wondered: will people assume I am no longer sad about Brad? Does being happy somehow equate to missing him less? Will others stop saying Brad’s name? Would sharing my joy be hurtful to other grievers?

The happier I became, the less I felt like I could share.

I felt guilty - like being happy was somehow a betrayal to Brad. Like I needed to hold on to that misery in order to prove my love for him.

But it’s bullshit.

Brad would want me to live a big, bold, joyful life, so where was this guilt coming from?

It was from me. And also from my fear of the perception and judgement of my life from outsiders - outsiders whose opinions don’t actually matter (no offense lovely internet strangers).

I was afraid of being judged for the false perception of grieving Brad less. I was afraid that my joy would be hurtful to someone earlier in their grief journey. And I was afraid of my joy being misconstrued as toxic positivity in a world that minimizes grief and requires everyone to be “fine” (#fuckfine).

But it’s not just that.

The truth is, living in the joy can be just as hard as living in the pain. Buying a house, starting my own business, traveling the world, falling in love - each of these big, happy milestones is followed by a wave of sadness and guilt. Each one a reminder that I’m not able to share them with Brad. Each one a reminder that Brad’s life was capped of milestones.

I felt guilty for for the privilege to not only continue to live, but to continue to live joyfully.

This is life in the aftermath of death. It means figuring out how to live in grief - joy and all.

Grieving out loud is cool. But, guess what? So is being happy.

So let’s remember to share that too.