The Grieving Room

trE
Photo by Alex Green via Pexels

The beginning of a lifelong process and the space in which to do it.

It is not always easy to listen to what pushes and pulls in this mind of mine, but I experienced a loss so gargantuan to me recently, that I am now compelled to find avenues, outlets, and ways to catapult myself from the depths of the darkest pits to survive the loss — become one with the loss — move on from the disabling effects of the loss.

To say that I endured the death of someone close is an understatement; it does not completely encompass from what my heart is trying to heal. There is no proper way to describe, let’s say, on a scale of one to ten, just how crucial this loss is.

On February 18, 2022, I muttered my last “I love you” to my closest cousin — one of the greatest loves of my life. She had been significantly older than me, so she mothered me — nurtured me — allowed me to be guided by her.

She could rain down love without being coaxed or manipulated. It simply fell out of her and onto/into you without caution. If you loved her or had been loved by her, you knew it. You felt it. There was no reason to question this love. It was genuine and given with every ounce of her being.

Every single day now since the day of her death has been an excruciating trial in living. There are days I say to myself, “You’re fine. You’re doing just fine.” And on those days, I do feel a sense of all-rightedness, but as a whole, they — those days are fleeting. I have had to learn how to swim in choppy waters — maneuver through bone-chilling nights — slide myself out of bed, press my feet onto the floor, and push myself up and out slowly; attempting to gauge just how my body and mind feel when beginning a new day.

What I am learning about grief.

Grief, as described by Psychology Today, is

The acute pain that accompanies loss. Because it is a reflection of what we love, it can feel all-encompassing. Grief is not limited to the loss of people, but when it follows the loss of a loved one, it may be compounded by feelings of guilt and confusion, especially if the relationship was a difficult one.

How am I grieving? How am I mourning? I have to strip bare — down to the bones of myself and cry when the tears fall. I allow myself the time and space to break down — literally feel every emotion that comes at me during those moments. I am using writing as a tool — an outlet to get me through the hardest parts of this journey. There are days when all I can do is write poem after poem in honor of/for her. If there’s a song I want to hear — one that reminds me of her gentle ways — her kindness, I play it. If there is a meal I want to eat to pull her into my space for the enjoyment of my evening, I will cook it.

I am wading through these waters as best as I can because the hard truth is, even though I have had other significant deaths in my life, none of them have affected me the way this one has. Learning to be gentle with myself as I create or allow words to spill out of me, detailing my thoughts or describing various emotions, is key. A learning curve has been assigned because this will never be perfected.

The goal? To wake up feeling less heavy than I did the day before. I want to breathe and not risk passing out. I intend to grow in both mental and physical preparedness for my world without her. In order to do this, any of it, I must grieve — in its most wholly and authentic form, and not feel ashamed of it.

How does this pertain to you?

It is, I am certain, probably safe to say many of you reading this article have experienced some form of grief. Perhaps you are trying to move through the hell of it right now. Maybe you haven’t found the sure footing you thought you would have under you at this point. Or is it possible you’re not giving yourself the time you need to grieve, mourn, and properly feel or experience your loss?

This newsletter will be a weekly synopsis of how I am moving through the hell of it all. It will also be a space for you, should you feel so inclined, to share your thoughts, moments of progress, despair, etc. in the comments as discussion.

Welcome to The Grieving Room. I am here. You are here. We are not alone in this.

See you next Saturday.

Originally shared via LinkedIn.

27 thoughts on “The Grieving Room”

  • I agree with your supporter who said memories make grief cyclical; there is no “end game” or completely getting over certain losses. I think it’s so brave and kind of you to let us in to feel the feels alongside you in this painful process.

    Wishing you brighter days!

    Liked by 1 person

    • You’re most welcome. Peace and blessings to you on your healing journey. 🙏🏾💙 I am just trying to be gentle with myself on each day.

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  • First of all, sending a big ole virtual hug ❤

    Grief is definitely a process, and depending on the circumstances and person, it takes quite a bit of time. So, my advice is give yourself grace.

    Liked by 3 people

  • Yes. I say that yes with all the breath in my chest. Grief is a process and a sneaky one too. One step forward 2,3, 27 back. I am so sorry for your loss. Having walked through two deaths that have left me speechless and changed I look forward to reading this newsletter. Thank you for giving everyone, including yourself the space to feel.

    Liked by 3 people

  • I’m so glad you’re doing this for yourself and others. I have been preoccupied with the way grief shapes time. Right now I’m grieving for my father, who may only have months to live, and it’s a different process in that time hasn’t stopped and I feel there are still things I can say and do. But I go through the stages of grief every time I see him and have to ‘get on with’ daily living. You being a music lover, you might like the book I’m reading, Natalie Hodges’ “Uncommon Measure: A Journey Through Music, Performance, and the Science of Time” (surprisingly accessible, I love it). I agree with her that the idea that you make progress through the stages of grief is an illusion. Memory makes grief circular. But you do fall into time with it. I love the way you’re honoring your cousin, and spending time with her memory. 💜

    Liked by 4 people

    • Thank you, Sun. Peace to you as you move through the stages dealing with grief while your father is yet still hanging on. I send you love, light, and so many hugs.

      Thank you for the book recommendation. And thank you for reading this one & connecting too. Peace and blessings.

      Liked by 1 person

  • I’ve thought a lot about grief, in the context of my father’s death… I really appreciate what you’ve shared here, trE. Will entries from your newsletter be posted here?

    Liked by 4 people

    • Yes, I’ll share them here too. Thank you, David. Writing is really helpful. I’m glad I have this form of release; it helps me to flesh out the feelings and understand them. I appreciate your presence here

      Liked by 1 person

    • Peace, Michele. Thank you. I know most people don’t find themselves connecting with others on this topic, but I am hopeful there can be a connection–a closeness birthed through loss and grief. Thank you for reading.

      Liked by 1 person

      • You are most welcome, trE. I am certain you will comfort many people. Learning about the steps of grief helped me after losing my dad a few years ago. It did not speed my healing, and that is ok, but having an awareness of each phase was helpful. Connecting with others who are experiencing similar emotions is also comforting.

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