Grief is a wave worth riding
I can’t remember my first experience with grief but know it still lives within me. As a toddler whose parents were deemed unfit to care for their children, the wash of an uncertain life saturated my soul, leaving me wet and vulnerable over the years.
My youngest memory is begging my mother not to leave. I can hear my blubbering words, “Momma, don’t go,” and feel the unwanted security of my four-year-old brother holding me back. He would say, “It’s okay, Jordan,” using his mumbled linguistic skills to say my name as good as any four-year-old could.
Although not a death, the loss of my parents as caregivers certainly felt like one, setting the unchartered course for a rocky life, with some relationships more stormy than safe.
I’ve been thrust back into the waves of grief many times over the years, the most recent being last week when my mother-in-law died unexpectedly.
Being from the south, specifically living in the New Orleans area for close to twenty years, I’ve come to learn that no two storms are alike. The same is true of grief. Whatever the loss, grief brings with it waves of shock and uncertainty, ultimately leaving you to pick up the pieces on a destructed path.
What I’ve come to understand about grief over the years is that despite the pain it undoubtedly brings, without it, our capacity to live and to love is hindered.
You never know how bad things can get until you feel the physical heartbreak and emptiness of having lost someone you love deeply. It’s hard to understand the desperation of grabbing onto any last piece of them like I did packing a rental car full of my recently deceased 80-year old grandmother’s things to drive the 2000 miles back home by myself. (Spoiler - I ended up ditching the car and flying back with two suitcases and my husband instead). Or how I brought in my father’s undeveloped film to a specialty camera store in the weeks after his unexpected death, hoping to discover some new memories.
Loneliness accompanies sorrow like wind nudging at waves. The world has moved on, and you’re stranded in an ocean of pain without a paddle. Even when the storm has passed, grief comes back like a tsunami, triggered after a tectonic shift on the ocean’s floor.
Life after loss will never be the same as it was before. But it won’t always feel as bad, either. Like any storm, the clouds eventually clear, and the sun shines through again, warming your skin and soul. Remembering your loved one will still hurt, but there comes a time when you see their photo and smile rather than cry. The love you have for them will seep through into your other relationships, long solidifying their memory for generations to come.
Life is full of loss, but it is also full of love. The pain we experience is eased by the love we feel. Grief isn’t a choice, but a requirement of love. It is the storm that accompanies the sea; a rough wave, but worth the ride.
