Lessons in Loss
The best definition of grief I have ever seen is:
“Grief is the experience of coping with loss. Most of us think of grief as happening in the painful period following the death of a loved one. But grief can accompany any event that disrupts or challenges our sense of normalcy or ourselves. This includes the loss of connections that define us.”
Death is such a weird thing. I've always grappled with it growing up, and even as an adult. It's consciously and unconsciously defined so much of who I am. I've had very significant losses in my life that started before I was even born. It has affected the way I think, my anxiety, how I love, who I am. I am always on alert, always expecting the worst. Always overthinking. Mentally preparing myself for the most terrible possible outcome.
This week, I was so emotional. I literally was joking with my friends about how I must be pregnant because everything made me cry (FYI- there is no way I can be pregnant unless God gave me the last name Massiah to bear the next one through immaculate conception but that's neither here nor there). Even Ginger, who usually doesn't need (or want) to just be next to me, was laid up under me. It wasn't until randomly watching TV with my friends after a girls night that I realized it was December 3rd. The day before my uncle passed away six years ago. The day before my whole world was turned upside down unexpectedly. I never anticipated how his death would affect me. But for me, every day after that has been a result of his last breath.
I always laugh a bit when people who do not know me well have this preconceived notion of me. They think I'm this adventurous, confident, love attention, kind of detached (they probably wouldn't use that word but I will for lack of a better term) grounded person. My uncle's death made me take a long look at how I showed up every day and actively decide to make a change. It has not been easy at all. Some people who I actually would say know me well might even tell you the same about me. As a result, it can be a little isolating. People who you want to make a deeper connection with refuse to see who you are because of what they assume. Refuse to see you as the person you actually tell them who you are because they already have this notion in their head based on what they formed or who they want you to be… but again… another post.
I wrote this 5 years ago, bawling in a hotel room in San Francisco, and I vowed to not let fear hold me back. However, sometimes I've wondered if I let death affect me TOO much. My shift has brought so much good into my life that I actually couldn't believe. Living life without fear was a little overzealous of me, but doing it scared anyways has been something I am putting into practice. But at the same time, I wondered if it’s given people the wrong impression of who I fundamentally am. I often wonder if I’ve let grief become a part of personality, or at very least, dictate it. For a looooooooong time after, despite being more intentional about how I showed up, I feel like I still was living in this glass case of emotion (I hope y'all get that reference) but I would never open the door. EYE processed my emotions but very rarely let other people into the process. I dealt with everything alone. I look at pictures of the days after my uncle's death, where I was out with friends. Smiling, Seemingly happy and going home to literally sink in my sobs. I used so much concealer in those weeks because I actually didn't sleep. And despite little attempts at opening up because life is too short and I wanted to make sure the moments with the people I loved counted, I definitely was very calculated with my emotions. Some friends didn't even know what happened until I posted a funeral pamphlet and I got texts that said “I was just with you…” I am extremely emotional, and have grown to also be extremely emotionally intelligent and aware… and I thought that was enough
Then in 2021, God said “I'm tired of this bitch”. Gut punch, after gut punch, after gut punch. Loss. After loss. After mother fucking loss. I realized grief wasn’t as clear as I thought. Sometimes the person you are grieving is at a party with you. Sometimes grief never even took a breath. Sometimes grief is over a dream/goal/hope that never happens. I always associated grief with death but grief was everywhere and dealing with it alone was killing me. So much I went through without the support I needed because let people know. I didn’t want people to see me weak. I didn’t want it used against me. I didn’t want to get close to someone I could lose for whatever reason. Grieving alone almost broke me.
I started thinking of the repass after funerals. Growing up I always thought they were because West Indians can’t go anywhere without food or they would judge. Plus we all know funeral food HITS. but as I look at it through adult eyes, its because people aren’t supposed to grieve death alone. We need to be uplifted in the time of loss to move forward, even just a little bit.
So why was I trying to grieve any loss by myself?
Like most of my posts, I don’t have the answer, I don't even pretend to. If you came here for that baby, I know you're disappointed. Every day something shocks me at this big ass age of 38 and 11/12ths. Am I perfect? No. If you actually ask my friends that question they will cackle in your face. Am I trying? Every fucking day, even in the smallest ways possible. I tell people when I am bothered. I am vulnerable without guaranteed empathy or reciprocation. I am gentle with myself. I don't stay in places that I don't feel valued. I forgive myself for mistakes and start over. I celebrate wins, and don’t hide the failures (as much). I’ve accepted grief is a part of life, but I’ve moved from making it the part of my life.
I told my best friend I had a random breakdown in the middle of the day because my power was off and every emotion I had was coming up… and DID! It had already passed and honestly, no one would have known, but I still told her about me being crazy (because tryinggggggg) and though I know she would never ridicule me, it still wasn't easy. Then, she sent me this:
She probably didnt realize but that text was comforting as fuck. It reminded me I’m still loved, I’m still accepted, and that my life don’t need to be centered around loss or grief, but by the fact I am still living. And none of it I had to do alone.
Please do what you need to remind yourself that you are alive. Often.
Even if its crazy.
Happy Homegoing Uncle Clyde.