“grief management is never ending.”
that was part of a text i received from my dear friend melissa at the start of the week. she knows how may tends to weigh on me and something i appreciate is how she doesn’t shy away from the dark and twisty shit life throws our way. and you know what? she is right. grief management is never ending. today marks four years since we lost grammy. on some days, it feels like it’s been a decade (with all that’s transpired since she’s been gone). on other days, it feels like it has been 10 seconds because on the days where i need a voice of reason, i almost feel like i cannot breathe without her.
for the first couple of years, there was a lot of learning to simply exist without her. four years in, i have certainly learned how to exist without her even if i am missing her terribly in the process. in the last year, it seems like my grandfather has aged a dozen years. it is difficult watching someone who is fiercely independent need help and guidance. it is even tougher knowing the person he would love to lean on most is the love is his life when that isn’t an option. lately, i have found myself asking: what would grammy do? she might have only been five foot two, but her presence was that of a giant.
“sometimes, only one person is missing, and the whole world seems depopulated.” -alphonse de lamartine
even without melissa never having met grammy, the quote she sent me above highlights just how well she understands what my grandmother meant to me and grief as a whole. to honor her this year, i want to lean into being my most unapologetic self and remember that life is nothing without the balance of the people and things you love.
for those of you struggling with your own grief, especially around mother’s day, just know you are not alone. sending you so much love.