I had another post ready for this week, but then my feeds became inundated with grieving friends and notifications of great amounts of loss in the world, and so things changed regarding my plans for this week, and you get this, instead.
A friend of mine lost her parent this past week, after having already lost her other at another time. I hope she'll forgive my using this as a reference for a post, but in the chaos of the agony of her grief, she posted something absolutely messy, absolutely raw - and absolutely beautiful in my eyes. It was as much a message to her parents and to herself as it was a message to anyone who might come to read it.
My heart totally went out to her, and in the haze of the early-morning hours, I composed a reply which, after later finding that she decided to keep the post up and there were others who commented after mine, I felt rather sheepish about the response I gave her. Sometimes I can wax a little wordy and so on, if you haven't noticed. But while it was a bit embarrassing for me to leave my comment up, I also feel that others need to have what it was I was trying to share, and I'm going to just have to get over myself and share it again. So this is more or less what I wrote, possibly slightly edited for clarity or privacy.
Also keep in mind...there are many kinds of griefs,
and many could apply here, too.
"I love you, (my friend). You might delete this when you wake up ... and might not remember writing this, but I want you to know that I read it, and I love it.
"I didn't get to love my parents, so when they died it was a different kind of turmoil, but just as deep, and I understand how it can feel like it rips your very being into pieces you can't put together and fix again. You have enough going on to have this kind of agonizing mess happening, too. I'm so sorry, love. You do so much and try so hard and this is so, so hard.
"The thing is, you aren't as alone as it feels. You will survive this white-hot agony, and as you move forward despite no clue how, it will change to more of a glowing red, and in time, the heat of the wounds will fade some, and you'll begin to feel like you might just get to breathe again. You'll get to a point wherein you'll start to feel other things besides the pain; you'll start to see life differently, but you'll see life; you'll process things and as you heal, you'll find a way to live again.
"Yes, it takes time. Lots of time with ups and downs and (sometimes lots to say) and other times you have no words so you sit there wanting to write but you got nuthin'. And sometimes you'd give a limb for a hug, and other times you'd like to punch the next person who touches you. And memories swirling around, sometimes hitting you when you least expect them, and it might feel like your own stomach caught the punch. You might burst out sobbing two tears, or many; or giggling hysterically for no reason, wondering WTH is wrong with you! You might have nightmares or wonderful dreams that upon waking have mixed emotions, sometimes disorienting.
"All of these things and more are totally natural, totally normal, and honestly, are good signs you're processing your losses, and working through the grieving process. I've had to grieve many ways for many different things, and am getting better at it, though that doesn't really make it a whole lot easier in the middle of that massive chaos phase. That is why I'm telling you all of this, so you can see that you were heard by someone who loves you enough to put all of this out there, just like you reached out, here. My way of taking your hand and saying, "I've got you, Love. We'll get you through this. It doesn't last forever and you are not alone."
"That is all I've got to offer you right now, from here (hundreds of miles away), at 4 am my time. But you've got it, and I've no intention of going anywhere, however you come. You've been an amazing friend to me, so all the more reason I'm going to stand by you, okay? I love you, (my friend)."
So that's that. There have been recent losses in the world which have affected me personally, and I do understand that there are a lot of reasons people grieve which sometimes they don't even recognize, and not enough people who can use empathy to reach out and share that kind of love with each other, which means the ones who do must carry an often, heavy burden.
The fact is, there is hope,
even when we are in that shock-driven daze;
or in the rage of the loss;
or in the void left behind;
or in the climb back from where we've been;
or in the struggle to create a new life
with that loss alongside us.
There is hope, and it lies within the connections we share and our ability to remain resilient and remember that we are worth healing to that brighter, healthier place on the other side of the grief. And our ability to provide that to those who need a hand to hold or whatever else it is they need. Not say, "Let me know if you think of anything." But doing something with their permission, which helps them navigate a process that can take a short time or a very long one. That is love.
I hope you don't mind the heavy this week, my friends. I just felt this topic deserved its place, given the state of things this week. Feel it sent to you with love and hope.
Better days ahead, my friends!
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