Grief Unchecked [Part I] [3866]

Three days before my eighteenth birthday my grandmother passed away. It was an extremely boring day where woke up, I went to school, and came back home. The day carried on as usual, doing all the things I’d regularly done day in and day out: homework, chores, ate dinner, and watched tv. Right before I went to bed I went into her room and gave her a kiss on the cheek and in that moment I just knew something was different. It wasn’t the fact that I came home and she was actually resting, or the way she huddle under her cover. She seemed, tired… and to this day I cannot possibly began to explain it.

A few short hours into the night she was rushed to the hospital and shortly after she passed. In the cold October air, surrounded by grieving family in the darkness of the morning, I felt myself grow numb. Seeing my family go through a wave of emotions— my cousins, aunts, uncles, and my mom— I told myself I’d simply cut it off. Shut out the pain of losing her and remain the strong girl I always tried to be.

I’d opted to remain ignorant to the reality that had forced its way into my life, in denial to the fact that she was no longer there. The days following I got sick, I celebrated my eighteenth birthday and I proceeded to fall into the deepest depression of my life.

I was alive, not quite living but alive. I missed a week of school and afterward life resumed as is. I laughed with my friends, went on school trips, attended prom, and graduated. And yet in every moment I felt like something was missing.  No matter how hard I tried to go back to my previous self, I couldn’t.

I didn’t have my grandma anymore to cook me warm dinners or scold me when my tone was too sarcastic or reassure me with her unwavering wisdom. She wasn’t there to stop me from arguing with my mom or tell me I was in the computer too much or hug me when I felt sad. She simply wasn’t there. In every moment, I felt unwavering sadness.

Not having the person who raised me, guided me, and molded me into her perfect image to hold my hand and continue to lead me into adulthood.

Despite the feeling of complete uncertainty, normalcy seemed to seep into my life regardless of how I felt.

I’d had trouble enjoying life in a way that wasn’t hedonistic— filling my sadness with idle pleasures that often failed to comfort me in the dark of the night. Slowly I learned to be present, to take away the value of material things, to be happy just being.

She wasn’t there anymore but I knew I was still making her proud. In my grief of mourning one of the most important people in my life, I met myself.

I relearned my emotions, discovered new areas of myself I hadn’t been brave enough to explore, and became reacclimated with the present world. And slowly things got better.  I went to college, made new friends, and found new passions.

In my grandmothers absence I learned that there was perfection in imperfection. That my grief was perfectly acceptable in whatever form it manifested.

It took me years to through my grief. Learning to be here and now, taking away the child-like idealistic views of my grandmother, and tackling my emotional evolution: I learned who I was alongside my grandmothers guidance. Now that I’m older, I can look back at that experience and see that although sadness and disparity took control of my life for an unfathomable amount of time, it was a necessary experience.

Losing her was one of the most heart wrenching experiences but finding myself in the midst of that was worth it. Everyday I miss her dearly and crave to hear her voice or hold her hand or feel her arms wrapped around me but I know that she is with me and beaming with pride in spite of it all.

Strangely enough there wasn’t a poem written about my grandmother so I had to sit and put together words to express how I felt and although I couldn’t put everything to pen (or notes app) I still feel that this poem represents where I am in my grief. Missing her, carrying her with me, and still loving her.

Enjoy

Jo🤍

In my head you were a giant. Even in your absence I idolized you. Missing your touch, craving your words.

I realized a while ago that I never stopped grieving you.

Your healing hands or your wise words.

Were something I put away in my mind. A thing that I often forgot or simply did not want to feel.

In your absence I felt lost. Like I could feel you… your spirit or you aura yet I wasn’t quite sure if it as my fault. For locking away the girl you love, for abandoning the young woman you raised me to b, for demanding that I move on— aimlessly.

I didn’t try to forget you. I just tried to forget the pain of you not being here and in doing so I forgot what it felt like to be with you.