Hi Everyone! And thanks for hanging out. As I sat to think about what I would write for this entry, a familiar feeling came over me. A familiar, heavy feeling, as if a dark cloud just floated into my space and everything just became dim. A storm was looming, thunder was sounding in the form of a strong heartbeat, and the rain started fall in the form of tears. This is the feeling of devastation, of sorrow, of grief. A feeling that I know all too well, and you may too. While the grief visits every day, it doesn’t stay long, just long enough to remind me that they’re gone. My dear cousin, my beautiful friend, and my beloved grandmother. There are others that I have loved and lost, but these three all left within a year and a half of each other and my mental breakdown followed soon after.
How do we handle this grief? How do we accept the unacceptable? How do we move forward when we are paralyzed with sadness? How do we wake up and move through our day when grief has taken hold and every minute without your loved one feels like eternity? Some of us pray while some of us drink. Some of us dive into work or exercise, while others hit the bong. We all have different ways of coping, and while I can’t tell you what to do with your life, I can tell you what I did with mine: talking and writing (once I stopped drinking and smoking). I took part in grief counseling and support groups that carried me through the dark times. Talking and writing about my grief helped me come to peace and acceptance. Learning that I did my best to be there for each of them, but couldn’t fully be there for all of them was the hardest for me to accept. But I know I did my best, and that’s all I could do. The rest was out of my control.
I also wrote letters to my loved ones. It’s surprising how much relief a letter can give you. Yes it’s hard to get through without sobbing all over the paper or computer, but it really provides a sense of release. When I feel like I need to talk to one of them, I write them a letter. I will share this letter with you that I wrote to my grandmother recently:
Dear Nanny,
Life sucks without you. I can still hear your voice, your raspy Brooklyn accent calling me “mamala” or “shayna punim*”. I’ve kept a voicemail from you on my phone in case I forget, 3 in fact. I haven’t been able to listen to them yet though, but I know they’re there if I need to hear you. So much has happened since you left. I really missed you at my wedding, but Kenny** made the trip across country and was my ring bearer with Jacob! You would have gotten a kick out of that. Did you see it from heaven? It was a beautiful celebration, and we broke the glass just like I promised you we would. Anyway, I miss you all the time. Mom started watching Downton Abbey, which makes me think of you. She also said it was really good and I have to watch it. I haven’t yet, but it’s on my list! I’ll have to write to you once I start and let you know what I think. Dad lost 50 pounds and is retiring in just a few weeks! He looks great, you’d be so proud. And Rob and Betty had another baby, Elijah, who was named after you. I keep one of your colored pencil drawings in my office at work so you’re always with me. Not a day goes by that I don’t think about you. I miss coming to visit and holding your hand while watching TV. I miss our shopping expeditions. I miss your French toast. I’m sorry I didn’t visit more at the end. I’m sorry I wasn’t there when you took your last painful breath. I wanted to be there so bad. I was getting on the plane when I got the phone call. I just missed you. I tried Nanny. I did the best I could, and now I know you know that. I know you wouldn’t want me to live with that regret, and I don’t. But I miss you every single minute of every single day. I love you and will write to you again soon. Oh and tell Brenda and Simone I say hi.
Love you always,
Stacela
*Shayna punim = means, “pretty face” in Yiddish
**Kenny = Nanny’s 92 year-old husband and Jacob is my nephew who was 3 years old at that time.
Excuse me while I grab my tissues. It’s important to remember that grief never goes away; we just learn how to live with it. Grief changes us, but it doesn’t have to end us. Find a way to cope. Talk about it, write a letter, and look out for the signs sent from above. Move forward, but don’t forget. Your loved one wants you to live and be happy. It’s true, time does heal all wounds, but the scars will always remain.
