[Dealing With Grief] The Hidden Gift Of "Goodbye"

I struggled with whether or not to post this.

Not because I couldn't handle it (although, that may have been a factor)...

...but I struggled more because death and grief is a topic that can warrant feelings of unease, and cause others to "run the other way"...

Sometimes, we run because of our own emotions on the topic... and other times it's just how uncomfortable it can make us when we see someone else's loss.

"What should I say?"

"How can I help?"

But considering that most of us (probably you included) have been touched by death at some point or may be going through it currently...

...whether that was a pet, a family member, or a friend... I decided to open up my soul a bit and share my unique perspective and search for meaning on the topic of death.

Why?

Because death has recently touched my family in a difficult way...

This September, I lost my sister.

To be honest, I struggled with how to say that.

There are so many phrases people use to convey that a person has left them with a hole in their heart.

"Do I say she...

• "Passed away?
• "Went to a better place?
• "...or just that she died?"

And does it really matter?

At the end of the day, I know one thing:

My sister is gone... at least for now...

She's left this world and isn't coming back in my lifetime.

The Fingers Of Death Touch Us All

It's such a loaded word.

Death...

It's a topic we like to avoid. And it's difficult to confront, both in ourselves and in others.

And yet... confronting it is the only way to heal or to bring healing...

When death slips into our own lives, often unexpectedly, we're exposed to the harsh finality of its nature. We're swept away by the many regrets... the "what if"s... the "I should've"s... and the "if I could only take that back"s...

It doesn't seem to matter that we've heard others say the same words a thousand times. And we never pictured ourselves thinking those overrehearsed cliches.

Yet, we say them anyway. Every single one. Like a bad script.

It's in those moments that we have two choices:

1. Run the other way, bury ourselves in work, escape through substances, or fill our lives with new demands that distract us from the pain.

2. Or come to understand the grieving process and make room for ourselves to mourn, to heal, and to experience all the emotions that death has to offer.

I'd like to say I'm in group number two... but if I'm honest, I often find myself torn between both groups - a mangled and deformed hybrid, limping along the "grief path" - and struggling to reconnect with myself.

There are moments when I feel nothing at all. When my brain naturally "blocks out" the very thought. And then, there it is, right in front of me...

Death...

Grief Chips...

This entire post wouldn't have happened without a bag of "Juanita's" tortilla chips.

My wife and I had gone to the store, and while I was there I decided I wanted chips and salsa. I'd been craving them for weeks and Juanita's chips are my absolute favorite.

They're like a tongue-portal to authentic Mexico poised unassumingly within a rather plain, red/clear bag.

And when you combine them with salsa?

Straight up, Dope.

I grabbed the chips, put them on the conveyer, bought them, and came home with the groceries. But at the time, I didn't realize what I'd done.

After about three or four hours had passed and we'd finished dinner, we turned on our current "fling" of a Netflix series:

"The Black List"

And as we watched Raymond Reddington deliver poignant line after poignant line dripping with that thick, sticky, writer-ly ooze I so belove...

... I decided to dig into that bag of chips.

I munched and munched, dripping salsa all over the table and licking it off my fingers. The show was great, my wife's company was splendid. And then... as if from nowhere... something red caught my eye...

It was on the tortilla chip bag. A single red word in the midst of the bag's "company story" section of text. It said...

"...Juanita's."

And just like that... the memory came crashing down.

"How could I have gone through the process of picking out these chips... buying them... bringing them home... eating them... and not even noticed???"

My reality split in two.

Juanita is my sister's name.

Did my brain just hide this fact from me?

Did it just decide that my recently deceased sister wasn't relevant to the purchase of these chips?

What anomaly in my brain prevented me from accessing this information?

I Guess Reality Hadn't Set In

Though I don't think the logical part of my brain was in the "denial" phase - I do think that part of my reality is stuck there. And there's a reason:

• My sister and I hadn't seen each other in over 12 years...

Both of us had lived rough lives. We were the two people in my family that the others often wondered if we were "dead in a ditch somewhere"... as they'd say...

We lived over 2,000 miles apart from each other and didn't talk much... but I loved her very much...

When we did talk, she often felt like I was the only one she could really talk to... because I was screwed up like her...

My mother hasn't been a part of my life since I was about 3... and I used to call my sister Juanita "mom"...

She was one of the most energetic and hilarious people you'd ever meet. And I wrote a raw and unedited FB post after she passed in her memory:

---

~ For My Sister

"My beautiful sister, Juanita Williams. Even as the tears come, I know you'd laugh at me for trying to "tag" you in heaven.

"But I'm still going to try... And although I feel like I don't have the words to truly say, "I love you..."

"...it was the last thing I told you while you were here... And I'm blessed by that.

"I wish I could hear your voice one more time. To see your face. Just to keep your memory fresh. I've never known a person like you. And I'll never meet one that compares.

"You had this superpower. This special ability to force a smile or a laugh out of anyone, at any time, on command.

"You would say the most ridiculous things and hold a straight face. You'd make us feel like we were the weird ones. The awkward ones.

"You made us question ourselves in the best way. You wouldn't allow us to take life too seriously. And I'm sure I got the best parts of my sense of humor from you.

"When I was little, I used to call you "mom..." even though you were my sister. Even before mom was gone. I didn't know the difference, and you were there for me. You loved me.

"I remember how you used to make people "do a little dance..." You'd walk up to complete strangers and say, "Hey, just do a little dance..."

"They'd look at you with total surprise, even terror, and you'd say... "what? are you afraid? Just do a little dance!"

"You'd egg them on until they'd actually DO it! Businessmen in suits. People on a date. It didn't matter! You had no fear!

"Your energy was impossible to refuse. And I wonder how many people that didn't even know your name will still tell stories about you.

"Your soul is so beautiful.

"You were so down to earth. You loved SO big. Your heart was enormous.

"I ache to see your smile again. I pine at your laughter.

"But I know, darling sister, that with all that laughter was so much sorrow. You were smiling through teeth-gritted tears.

"Beneath the surface was the marred reflection, the shattered image that you hid from us... As my eldest sister Maria Williams Holm so accurately put it, "...to protect us..."

"I wish I could have been there for you. That I could have somehow defended you in all your crazy relationships. Or led you out of addiction with me.

"I wish I hadn't been so far away. That you could have leaned on me.

"But I know that today, you are with your great Defender. You are with the One who will never strike you.

"The One who will always hold you. And will never let you go.
Your laughter echos from heaven. Your smile beams down on us.

"And I want you to know that you left us with so much more than just an ache in our chests. You left us with appreciation, gratitude, and true joy.

"And a blissful, "Thank you," to the God who created you and dropped you into our lives.

"We were beyond blessed to have had your love. And your memory will always bring a smile.

"I choose to honor your memory this way. With a smile. Because I know it's what you would have wanted.

"And I know that if you read this post... You'd look at me weird and say...

"Seriously...? I mean... seriously? Ya... Whaaaat EEEver... Shut up! That's just STUPID!"

"I love you, Juanita. And I'll see you again."

---

The Gift Within The Grief

Earlier this year, my wife also lost her dog, Spencer.

I used to post about him on Steem when we were living out of our little blue van. He was a huge part of our lives and an even bigger part of hers.

My wife had Spencer for 17 years.

He was her emotional refuge during times of danger and homelessness. He was her protection in the dark at night.

Losing him was devastating to her.

When I was helping her go through the grieving process, I remember telling her one thing more than anything:

"The pain you're feeling right now feels like too much - but just remember it means you loved him that much. The pain you feel now allows you to fully experience the depth of your love for him. And the depth of that pain reflects the depth of your love. Imagine if you felt nothing? It would mean his life was meaningless. So even though it hurts, be grateful for the experience of pain - because it's a tribute to how much you cared for him and loved him... and it shines a light on how much of a blessing his life was..."

After seeing that bag of chips, I've found myself reminding myself of the same thing.

While I was checking out Upland, I scrolled to the place in Minnesota where she lived...

I savored the moment, the "longing" I felt to travel there. As if I could see her again.

I'm still so far from being through the grieving process. But I'm trying to work through it slowly and not deny myself the emotions I need to feel.

(...although I'm frequently failing at that...)

Anyway, if you're dealing with grief I hope this last bit helps with yours.

Just remember, the pain you feel is a way of honoring the depth and breadth of the love you had for the one you lost.

Don't let it cripple you...

But be sure to savor it.

@badseedalchemist