A client recently shared with me his process for grieving: “I grieve hard and fast. I let it all out: Tears, sadness. I hate funerals. I equally hate weddings. I feel claustrophobic and confined. I go and I sweat. And after the burial, I am over it. I move on. It is harsh.”
A year ago yesterday I lost my Uncle. I loved him dearly. He was deeply distressed. Four weeks before that my Grandfather passed, whom I never really knew. Grandfather is more congruent with a stranger in my vocabulary. Just weeks before he left this earth, a good family friend did as well. He was a sweet soul with a gentle demeanor. I have since watched one of his daughters maneuver the grieving process through the lens of social media. The struggles persist.
Now, just over two weeks mark the time of a best friend’s death. I buried him and I am not over it. Though this is what our culture often expects of us in our hamster-wheel, rat-race, quick-fix, in-and-out, there’s-a-drug-for-that type lifestyle, I’ve never truly been one for a fad. I suppose in this process of continual evolution, some things don’t change.
I am more like my family friend’s daughter, who has steered the ups and downs of loss. My emotions are on my sleeve. My heart, broken. Today someone told me Ryan would want me to be happy more than ever. I am so sick of the damn word and its illusion. I am a human being with a range of emotions and it is my right to go through the full scope. Emotions are raw creatures I prefer not to numb or run away from. Furthermore, happiness is not the be-all-end-all destination, or a constant result to strive for. We are on a journey which involves all sorts of detours, dead ends, vertical jumps, and pitfalls.
I find myself at the juncture of sad and tired. I am also not interested in pretending to be anything I am not. I believe people respect the honesty. Students show up weekly to the Yoga classes I lead and listen to what I am learning as I experience the grieving process because it is real; they can relate. They can come to my class and be sad, joyful, or tired too. We will learn from it together…
I feel like I need my friend back.
I need my love to have his other half back. The two were soul mates. They cooked, adventured, worked, and played together. The only thing I am really in the mood for is to hang out with them as they reminisce like the little boys they always were. And I can’t have it. We’ll never have those moments again. For this I am sad. I think Ryan understands my feelings because he looked at us a family. We were. There really isn’t anyone in this world who knew us like he did. The loss is large and looming. Only time will allow us space to process the gamut of feelings and memories shared.
To keep his memory alive we must move in his light. He lived at three hundred percent in all aspects. So as I feel tired, I will take rest when needed, but I will vow not to let the sensation slip into laziness and seize the talents he always told me I have. I will invest in the friendships the way he did so beautifully. I will give all the love he would give, yet I will also receive love in ways he confessed not to allow in.
Through this heartache, friends have rallied around us. They have held us our tears. They’ve listened without speaking. They have cooked for us, given love, sent gifts in the mail because they know it lifts our spirits in this time of need. Thank you.
Thank you for reminding us what Ryan always demonstrated: Family is the company you choose to keep.