10 years ago, without fanfare, I received an email from my radiologist that said “scans are perfect.” It had been a year of clean scans since my sudden and unexpected relapse.
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Even in grief, we must learn to let go. Not of the love for our people (that will always remain). But the previous version of our life. The previous version of what we thought our life would look like.
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In honor of National Grief Awareness Day, I’m sharing 10 things I wish more people knew about grief.
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But letting go is hard - and oftentimes comes with grief and sadness and guilt. It’s also another loss. Another reminder that life has shifted so profoundly. So instead of letting go, maybe we need to be better at letting it flow.
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But what about the early days of grief? On those days when it feels impossible to eat. Or shower. Or just freaking get out of bed. How do you find joy on those days?
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When Brad first died, self-love involved alcohol and weed. I’m not proud of it, but it felt like the only way I could love myself was by numbing my feelings.
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There is a difference between showing up and being seen. A difference between sympathizing and empathizing. A difference between being understanding and feeling understood. And sometimes, the only people who get it are those who have been through it.
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The day after Brad died, a friend of mine gathered some old electronics and thrifted glassware and let me take a golf club to the pile in a back alley in Detroit. He did the same thing after the first wedding I attended solo.
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Navigating a relationship in the wake of a profound loss is complicated. It takes an immense amount of courage to put yourself out there.
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I'm aware it’s a sneaky cancer that doesn’t let itself known until it’s too late. I'm aware that the “lucky” ones who discover it early, usually discover it on accident. I'm aware it has the ability to - in an instant - swoop in and steal the life of the person you love most in the world, taking your life along with it.
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The truth is, that diagnosis would have inevitably changed us both. The fears, the surgeries, the emergency room visits, the bad news, bad news, bad news. Had Brad survived, our entire trajectory would have shifted - a rocketship midflight, aiming for the moon instead of mars.
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One of the most uncomfortable parts of loss was not in what was different. It was in what was the same. The same friends, the same house, the same bar, the same walking route, the same music, the same shows, the same job. Brad was dead but everything around me was the same.
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We are entering year 3 of a global pandemic. We are burnt out, worn out, and dealing with more collective (and personal) grief than ever before.
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You may feel pressure from well-intentioned people to “get in the spirit,” but oftentimes those people would rather see you fake a smile than feel the truth.
Pull out the box of ornaments…or don’t. Sing the carols…or don’t. Get in the spirit…or don’t.
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But this year, I once again felt compelled to host. I wanted the music and the warmth and the laughter. I wanted to cook for those I loved in this space I have created for myself. I wanted that same feeling of joy I felt during all those years of hosting.
But with that desire comes the realization that life - and the holidays - are different now. The people, the place, even the food.- they’re all different now. And I have to grieve that loss, too.
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When a person dies, it’s hard to know what to do on big grief dates. Both on anniversaries of positive dates - like weddings and birthdays, as well as anniversaries of the tougher dates - like diagnoses and deaths.
Is a celebration appropriate? Is it better to wallow in bed? Do you involve others or plan a solo day?
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Reliving the trauma of a cancer diagnosis, the treatment, and the subsequent death is unbearably difficult. But sometimes, it feels harder to relive those precious moments of our life before.
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I feel guilty sharing my joy.
Because I remember how hard it was to see people’s joy early in my own grief. Back when I actually thought I might die from sadness and I couldn’t possibly understand how the rest of the world was getting out of bed, let alone enjoying their lives.