What I Need

I was on the phone with my girlfriend Melissa last week, and I explained to her that I felt like I should have been better prepared for my grandma's death, that I was surprised at how difficult the past few weeks have been.  She responded like the loving, supportive friend she always is - she laughed at me.  "HELLO!", she exclaimed, "Welcome to GRIEF!"  I immediately burst out laughing, because she was absolutely right.  Hello, welcome to grief.  Sometimes it really sucks, and there is no way to prepare for it.  I can trust Melissa's perspective because she had to endure a strong and sudden relationship with grief many years ago.  She wasn't laughing at me for any other reason except understanding, and I knew immediately that the point of her laughter was to provide a soft space for my grief to land.  Like a huge white pillow overflowing with big fat feathers, laughter is often times our best bet for solace.

Grief is like any other thing in life - messy, complicated, surprising, beautiful and painful.  There are no rules and no absolute answers.  There is only each day, each moment, and our job is to do the best we can.  There have been afternoons when I felt like I was glowing from all the memories my grandma and I shared while creating collages that were all about her.  There have been moments that have taken me by surprise, moments when the tears became a force of nature, coming out whether I wanted them to or not.  I saw "The Lion, the Witch and the Wardrobe" yesterday - which was my favorite book as a little girl - and it was all I could do not to sob uncontrollably in certain scenes.  I wake up some mornings feeling OK, but by the end of the day I am melancholy.  I feel more alone in the world now that my grandma is gone, yet I make every effort I can to think of the people in my life that make me feel safe and loved and protected.  I cannot help but ponder this Ernestine-shaped hole in the world, but I also cannot help but remember that I have a circle of friends around me that are carrying me through this loss. This is not easy, but there is still laughter, and while I have laughter, I will always have what I need.

Comments

[frida]

so honest and beautiful

[Kerstin]

Hi Christine,

This is so beautifully written. Grief takes time and in some ways, it will never completely go away again. It becomes part of you, another layer of the person you are still growing to be. There are days when it is a deep and intense notion, while on others it's like a tender white feathered bird that accompanies you from a distance wherever you go.

By the way, I have always loved your grandmother's name, Ernestine. It is so wonderfully old fashioned and serene. Beautiful.

Take good care, Kerstin

[teahouseblossom]

Yay, daisies!!

Your grandmother will always be with you.

[liz elayne]

Welcome to grief - I love this phrase. I have a dear friend who has been this same way with me. We laugh in the midst of it all and sometimes literally say when dealing with life's drama, "it could be worse" becuse we both know this grief and know it could. I feel like I am now part of a club - I don't know what I would call it - something to do with "people who feel a lot in life already and now realize how much more they feel after losing someone they love dearly." Seems like a pretty long name, but I do feel part of this collective of people. May you continue to let go of judgement as you let the waves of grief carry you.

[la vie en rose]

you tell the truth so beautifully!