In Grief's Wake: The Lessons Left Behind
Grief is non linear. You don’t go through the phases of grief in a neat, linear fashion. You can move back and forth between stages, or you can feel multiple, or all, at once.
It really is the end of the world. M’s death was the end of the world as I knew it. I will never look at the world the same way - I’m now painfully aware of how fragile and impermanent life is. Life had always followed a predictable cadence for me until M's passing. It was as if the sun had always risen, but suddenly, one day, it just didn't. But in the hallowed silence left behind by M's absence, in the emptiness that now accompanies moments that once held joy, I've come face to face with a hard truth: the tomorrows with our loved ones are never promised.
The guilt is very much a part of the grieving process. I suppose it’s part of bargaining in replaying the “what-ifs”. There hasn’t been a single day where i have not replayed the alternative realities in my mind. I still think about all the things I could’ve done to change the course of history that day. Maybe if I had been home that day, he wouldn’t have been on the road; maybe if I hadn’t been so distant that day, he wouldn’t have been on the road; maybe if I had just called to provide some reassurance that day, he wouldn’t have been on the road. The crash happened in a matter of minutes. I keep replaying all the things I could’ve done to change those few minutes.
You lose a little bit of yourself when you lose somebody you love. I’ve been shaped and molded by all the people I’ve ever loved. As much as M has formed who I am today, losing him has carved out entire pieces of my being. The carefree naive optimism I once carried no longer exists. I move through life with the knowledge of how fleeting and unforgiving it can be.
How little the “annoying things” matter. I’ve come to miss all the things that used to annoy or infuriate me. I find myself aching for those moments, because even in the midst of those tiny irritations or disagreements, he was there, alive and real. In the context of life and death, the little things that used to seem so significant become trivial. I'd gladly take all of those 'annoying' moments back in a heartbeat, just to have him here with me again.
You’re never done grieving. You never move on. You just learn to move forward. Grief leaves an indelible mark on your very being. There's no timer that goes off to signal the end of mourning, no point where life simply resumes its old rhythm. Grief doesn't tuck away quietly; it weaves into the very fabric of your being. And while it does color many aspects of life, it’s not always in shades of gray. It serves as a poignant reminder of love, because “what is grief, if not the perseverance of love?” (quote from Wandavision).
Acceptance doesn't arrive as one grand epiphany; it comes in fragments, each sharper and clearer than the last. Initially, reliving our shared moments through old messages and photos made me feel tethered to M. There came a day when those digital memories ceased to bridge the distance between us. In the early days, every creak of my gate would make my heart leap, hoping against hope that he'd appear. I'd wander through moments, mentally sketching him next to me, guessing his reactions and words. But then, subtly, that persistent imagining ebbed away. I realized I wasn't expecting him to be there in every corner or sound. This was the larger acceptance settling in: he was gone. Now, the journey is about learning to step forward in a world without his shadow by my side.