Thoughts On Grief

Grief is a strange thing. Sometimes it’s a sharp, pervasive focal point like a chandelier of writhing shadows. Other times, it’s more subtle like a gentle wave of melancholy, or a tinge of bittersweetness. There's a common misconception that grief is just sadness (maybe with some anger thrown in), but it is so much more. It's a multifaceted entity that ultimately, is a natural, and integral, part of the process of healing. We hear all the time that grief, like growth, isn’t linear. Sometimes it appears in full force like a relentless storm ravaging your entire existence. And other times it can appear like a sniper, taking you out in the midst of some innocuous thing. No rhyme or reason. It simply is what it is, and appears when it does, regardless of our thoughts on the matter. I had a sniper moment recently.

My family and I took a trip a few weeks ago, and while we’ve certainly done that before, that particular trip ended differently than usual. When we walked into our house, luggage in tow after what felt like days of travel (shifting time zones does that to me Every. Time.), it was quiet.

Completely silent.

That was the first trip we’d taken in years without having had someone in our home while we were away. The first big trip we’d taken since our beloved Caesar died. Coming home to a silent house was disorienting. It was the first time in over a decade we weren’t greeted by an overjoyed, oversized German Shepherd. I never thought I’d miss the way he’d nearly bowl me over with his 110 pounds of glad-to-see-you, but I did.

I do.

And though I was happy to be home, it was a bittersweet moment as well. Standing in my silent foyer, I felt the hollow ache of loss acutely. I had a visceral, full-body experience with grief. And though I doubled down on self-tending (as is my way), I went to bed that night wrapped in a blanket of melancholy.

I admit, I still sometimes burst into tears when I see someone walking their German Shepherd, and I honestly have no idea how I’ll handle my nephews’ dogs when we hang out with them in a few weeks. Caesar loved playing with Sadie (the bigger of the nephews’ dogs). I guess I’ll take that wave when it comes. For now, I just want to acknowledge that grief is a strange, and sometimes sneaky, part of life.

And I want to acknowledge that with all the events in the world, from the defiling of our planet, to wars and crappy legislation, to people living without basic needs met, and everything in between, grief is prevalent right now in the collective consciousness. Loss isn’t always in the form of someone you know and love. It isn’t always processed logically, and certainly not linearly. If you are in this space of melancholy, of the deep, hollow ache, the sense of incredible, irreparable loss, know that you are not alone. Please be kind to yourself. Allow yourself to feel whatever it is you need to feel right now. Handle yourself with the loving compassion you might give a child who is hurting, and double down on self-tending. The only way through, is through. Here’s to feeling it all, and taking each wave as it comes.