Grief: A Bull Shit Human Experience

Can we talk about grief for a second? Grief is one of those things that no matter who you are and, how amazing your life is, you can’t escape it. Every person on the planet will, at some point, experience loss; loss of a loved one, a pet, a friend, a relationship, youth, time, innocence. It’s a hard thing to live through, and even so, there is still a part of me that believes that the earlier someone can experience grief the more resilient they will become as their life goes on. Many of us know that there are five stages of grief, denial, anger, bargaining, depression and acceptance. These five stages are not linear and I don’t even think its a requirement to move through each one, nor do I believe that once you’ve accepted your loss that you’re necessarily done with the grieving process. I have had a ridiculous amount of loss in my life. Some life changing, others made my life better. Some I way over reacted and some a had no reaction to until much later. Everyone’s experience of life is subjective, therefore something that I considered a loss may not be a problem for another person and, that doesn’t make it any less painful to me. I have a pretty significant anniversary coming this week so grief has been on my mind a lot. I wondered if my experiences might help someone understand what they are going through and maybe feel a little less crazy, because grief can be crazy making. So, lets get into this.

The first time I remember feeling anything resembles grief from a death was when I was about 5 years old. I believe it was around Christmas time and my mom told me her nanny had died. This wasn’t the first time I’d experienced loss but it was the first time I remember being told someone died. I burst into tears because I didn’t realize she didn’t mean my nanny, but her nanny and a woman that I had never met. In the article I wrote about bad relationships I talked about losing step parents over the years, and a significant move across the country. I see now that those are some things that should have been mourned. I moved away from everything I’d ever known. I left my school, my friends, people that I knew only as family, my home and all my belongings. Very little of that life moved to B.C. with us. I remember one of the most important things I wanted my mom to bring to me was a red digital watch my dad had given to me the Christmas before. I wasn’t long before I left it on the stage at a school and never saw it again. That’s a loss that still bothers me today, because I really think that I’d still have it today had I not left it there. The loss I felt and feel around the watch has nothing to do with the watch itself it was because my dad gave it to me and I had and have very little of him.

The anniversary that is coming this week was the day I lost my dad; Friday June 10, 1988. I need to go back several months first though to September 1987, and I’ll move forward from there. It was either the night before of the night of my first day of grade 7. My mom called me into her room because she had some news for me. My cousin had called to tell her that my dad had gotten married. I was devastated. I was angry that he would marry, his long time girlfriend, Sandy. I barely knew her even though they had been together for almost 10 years. It was more than that; he didn’t tell me himself, and he didn’t invite me. I laid in my mom’s bed and cried. I was grieving not being included in my dad’s life at all. Jump ahead a few months to February 1988 and there is more news about my dad that my mom needs to share. He had cancer. He’d had surgery and everyone was hopeful but he was sick. The family felt we should wait until he was doing better before we visited, but my mom insisted. I remember the house I was told in; I remember it was in the living room but I don’t remember much else. I went through my old journals from that time and I said nothing about it. I think I either numbed myself to feeling it or I was in denial that it was happening or I’ve blocked it out because it was too much to deal with. In March we made the trip back to see him. We spent 2 weeks in Ontario and I think only a night or 2 of that was with my dad. He was sick, really sick. He was very thin and tired and barely ate. He had stomach cancer and in the surgery the doctor removed most of his stomach. One of the nights my sister and I were there he had a friend come over. I heard him tell his friend that he went to the doctor because he had the flu and he came home with cancer. That was the last time I saw my dad. My mom told my sister and me on June 11th. She said we had to have a family meeting the next morning and my sister asked me what I thought it was about. I knew. I told her dad had died, and I was right. The next morning when she told us I felt nothing. I tried to cry and I think I managed one tear, but it was forced. I knew I was supposed to be sad or angry or anything, but I was totally numb. I went to school the following Monday like nothing had happened. My class had journal time where we were able to write what we did that weekend or what was going on in our lives and we’d hand it in and my teacher Mr. Snow would read and respond. I know I told him, but even that didn’t bring out any feelings about it. My sister and I did not go back to Ontario for the funeral. We weren’t even asked if we wanted to go. I think everyone just assumed that we didn’t. Its another thing I mourn. I didn’t get the chance to cry about him with other people that loved him. I wasn’t given the chance to hear stories about him from his friends. With in 12 months, I’d missed his wedding and his funeral. It was months later, one night I started crying, but not for the reason you’d think. I was crying because I cried so hard when he’d gotten married, but not when he died. What kind of person was I. I felt like a horrible daughter for being more upset that he married his long time love than I was that he’d died. This Saturday is 35 years. 35 years is a long time. He was 33 when he died, so he’s been gone longer that he was here. There are entries in my journals over the course of a few years when I mention missing him. One entry I read recently struck me pretty hard. I was maybe 14 and saying how it wasn’t fair. I was hurting and angry that he wasn’t going to be there to see the important moments in my life. He wasn’t going to see me graduate, or get married, or have babies. I had no memory of writing this when I read it a couple of months ago. In my memories I didn’t have those thoughts until I was 20, after Stephen was born. When I said that I didn’t believe, when you reach the acceptance stage of the grieving process, you are done its because I have accepted it. It’s been a long time. I know he’s not here, and I’m not done grieving. Sometimes, still, it hits me like a ton of bricks that he’s never seen his grandchildren, or known me as a woman. It fucking sucks. So much so that as I write this I’m crying. I barely knew the man, but I grieve the loss of getting to know him. I grieve the loss of not knowing what he thinks of me as an adult and a parent. I grieve the loss of not being able to sit and have a drink with him and just shoot the shit. I grieve the loss of never getting the chance to really know Steve Mingo. Its never going to be fair. Most days are totally fine, but there is a piece of me that will continue to grieve all of my days on this planet.

Having a loss as significant as a parent at such an early age gave me a head start on all the loss I was going to have to face in the coming years. I’ve lost all my grandparents, Aunts and Uncles, cousins and friends. Part of me wants to say it doesn’t get any easier, because it doesn’t, but there is something to be said for knowing what to expect. When I’ve explained grieving to friends, that are experiencing their first loss, I tell them in the first few days or weeks you’re going to feel like you’re going crazy one second and then the next you’re not going to feel anything. In times that I have been mourning I can move through all five stages in minutes, over and over. I tell people, feel the feelings as they come; its actually really important to give yourself permission to do that. Its ok to play out all the scenarios in your head of ways you could have changed the out come. Its ok to be really fucking pissed at the person for leaving you. It ok to not believe it for a bit or to curl up in the fetal position and cry, and when the numb parts come that’s ok too. Take advantage of the numb. In those moment get something to eat, take a shower, do your errand, because you don’t know how long it will last before you’re in tears again. I’ve also made sure that they know that they aren’t crazy and just because the person next to you isn’t grieving the same way you are doesn’t mean they aren’t grieving too. The reason why this part is so important is because without it, we tend to stuff down the feelings so that you don’t have to deal with them, or we might self medicate with drinking or drugs to not feel the pain. That will work for awhile, but take it from me those feeling are going to find their way out at some point so there is no point in trying to stop it. I learned all this when a very close friend died very suddenly in her sleep. I was the last person to see her or speak to her. We were supposed to spend the next day together. My initial reaction was so huge. I collapsed to the floor. My legs just gave out. I spent the next 5 days in bed. Every time I tried to eat, I’d get sick. I thought for a long time that if she had just stayed with me that night she would still be here. Finally, now I know that she still wouldn’t be and I would have been the one to find her on my couch in the morning. I let myself feel everything. The day before her funeral I had a chance to spend some time in a room with her alone. I tried to will her alive. I prayed for a biblical miracle. I rubbed her hair kissed her head and left her there in the outfit shed bought shopping, at American Eagle, with me only a week before. A month after I tried to walk into American Eagle to look around. I realized it was a month to the day and had a panic attack. That was almost 21 years ago and I haven’t stepped foot in another American Eagle since. I still miss her often and always remember her on the anniversary and her birthday. Grief is a funny thing that at times like that can sneak up on you and remind you that you still miss the person no matter how long it’s been.

Grief isn’t only losing someone to death, sometimes it’s a relationship that’s lost. Being in love with someone that doesn’t love you back, and the relationship ends as a result, has to be one of the most painful things I have ever experienced. This wasn’t something in my teens either. Yes, I had heart break and unrequited love in my teens, but this was something entirely different. The physical feeling of a gapping hole in my chest that felt like it was on fire made the phrase “died of a broken heart” make sense. The feeling of knowing that this person was my person and to have it all slip through my fingers was the worst heart break I’ve experienced. The stages are all the same and moving through them back and forth until one day you are up and moving around and everything doesn’t hurt quite as much as it did the day before. In the moments that it’s the hardest I thought it would have been easier had he died. I could have mourned him and thought if him in a beautiful memory way, but he was still very much alive and I ran the risk of running into at any moment, which I did on several occasions. First few times my mouth would completely dry up. I’d try to swallow but there was a massive lump in my throat and my heart felt like it was going to beat right out my chest. I could feel that burning heat hole in my chest expanding at an excruciatingly painful rate. Over time it did go away and I learned to be happy for the life he was living. I thought about him often but for other reasons had to cut all ties, for a time.

There are other losses too. Loss of youth, loss of innocence to name two. The latter is easier to manage I suppose. At almost 50 my youth is fading. I’m not going down without a fight though. I am not aging gracefully like my mom because my grey hairs can go fuck all the off, hahaha. Jokes aside, loss of innocence is a tougher one. That’s one that can happen slowly over time as we age and move through the stages of our lives naturally or its something that can happen in a sudden sad traumatic event or series of events. It can also happen at almost any age. Sadly, children are learning so much more so much faster than anytime in the past. Streaming services, YouTube, TikTok, movies have desensitized our kids. I’m completely shocked on a regular basis by the things my younger children know. Things I couldn’t even fathom until I was much, much older. Mind you, I still liked my dolls and barbies at 11 and Elizabeth is doing her make up and actually acts much the same way I did at 14. I find it so sad for them to have lost their “youth” so fast and I wonder if one day they will mourn not holding on to their childhood innocence for a little longer.

I guess it all boils down to the fact that no one can escape grief and how you experience it will be unique to you and the reason you’re grieving. The important things to remember are, be kind to yourself while you’re moving through it and don’t expect to finish grieving on a time line, yours or anyone else’s. It would be irresponsible of me if I don’t remind everyone, if you are having a hard time reach out to someone. Talk to family, friends, a therapist or your doctor. You don’t have to do this alone. There is a good chance that, even if its not exactly the same, someone out there can understand how you’re feeling and help you move towards better days. Grief is apart of the human experience and so is surviving it.