Five years ago I had never had anyone close to me die. At 31 years old I didn't really know what it was to grieve.
Then it was August 1 of 2008. I had just gotten engaged (at long last) the month before. I lived in the West End and it was Pride and fireworks weekend. It was probably one of the happiest times of my life, then I got the call from my best friend saying that her dad had died. To say he was a great man is not enough. He was like a surrogate father to me and he was beloved of his whole community. He was 64 and only a year shy of a much deserved retirement. That summer it was so hard to see similarly aged men alive who were way less enlightened and kind, including, perhaps especially, my own father. How could these others more deserve to live? I still feel his absence and my anger at the injustice and arbitrariness of death became even stronger later. Now even 5 years later it's hard to believe he is gone.
Little did I know that this was just the beginning of my lessons in grief. Not that long after I lost my first would-be baby, then my very dear cat (if you've ever really loved a pet you will know this is not trivial), then 2 more pregnancies, then Saersha, then my cherished grandfather this year. All but one of these deaths was shockingly unexpected and too soon.
These losses were of course very different from each other, but the same painful permanence of the absences is there. How can my brain even process these losses are forever?
As I have alluded to in previous posts, I experienced significant trauma in my early life, but that pain felt like it could be overcome or even maybe erased. I went through therapy and I could release some of that hurt and felt like I had regained some of what I thought I had lost (this is of course debatable). With death/grief as an adult, I am only too aware of how I was different before and how potentially impossible it is to recover to that state. This kind of trauma, while it can be somewhat healed with time and effort, I am not sure it can ever be overcome. For me healing from Saersha's death (and these other untimely losses) I find as time passes of course it does get easier. But I was surprised to find that it was not that the pain was less, but just that the intervals of extreme pain become farther apart. Certainly the painful permanence of death (for me as someone who can not believe that we are reunited after life, as much I wish I could) will always stand as a barrier to full healing.
But as I ruminate over these things, I remind myself that no one is immune to loss. Sooner or later everyone will lose people close to them. It might not have the same burning injustice and searing pain of losing your child, but loss is a part of life and dealing with it is part of gaining maturity. By "dealing with it" I don't mean keeping a stiff upper lip and pretending everything is fine, but by having the courage to face it, feel it, incorporate it into a new self and carry on living.
I started drafting this post a few days ago but today I read Mark Epstein's article in the NYT. He writes: "In resisting trauma and in defending ourselves from feeling its full impact, we deprive ourselves of its truth." I feel like this is so endemic in this culture. Everyone wants to pretend that they are apart/immune from trauma, pain and death. When your child dies you are forced to look at death directly and accept your own mortality as well. I know some people still resist it even then, but trauma can only be set aside temporarily. It will wait for you.
I keep trying to accept the truth of my losses, not pretend them away, even though that may be easier at times. I will dive into grief when it comes like a wave over my head, then with effort come out the other side, breathe deeply and carry on.
