On May 20th, my aunt Bea passed away, just a month after she had been diagnosed with cancer.
We are still in shock of how sudden and unexpected everything happened, but most of all we are heartbroken.
Bea was my mother's younger sister, now she is in heaven with my mother who passed
away two years ago.
It is so hard to find the right words to say to give some comfort to my cousins that have lost their mother.
I have gone through the same pain and even though it's been two years, I still cry for my mother
almost every day. The pain of losing someone never goes away, but with time, we learn to live with it.
A while back while watching one of my favorite Grand Theft Auto streamers, MiltonTPike1 (Kiki Chanel),
he shared a beautiful article about dealing with grief that has really helped me to deal with
the loss of my mother. Today I shared the article with my cousins and below
I am sharing it with you all...
Alright, here goes. I'm old. What that means is that I've survived (so far) and a lot of people
I've known and loved did not. I've lost friends, best friends, acquaintances, co-workers,
grandparents, mom, relatives, teachers, mentors, students, neighbors, and a host of other
folks. I have no children, and I can't imagine the pain it must be to lose a child. But here's
my two cents.
I wish I could say you get used to people dying. I never did. I don't want to. It tears a hole
through me whenever somebody I love dies, no matter the circumstances. But I don't want
it to "not matter." I don't want it to be something that just passes. My scars are a testament
to the love and the relationship that I had for and with that person. And if the scar is deep,
so was the love. So be it. Scars are a testament to life. Scars are a testament that I can love
deeply and live deeply and be cut, or even gouged, and that I can heal and continue to live
and continue to love. And the scar tissue is stronger than the original flesh ever was. Scars
are a testament to life. Scars are only ugly to people who can't see.
As for grief, you'll find it comes in waves. When the ship is first wrecked, you're drowning,
with wreckage all around you. Everything floating around you reminds you of the beauty and
the magnificence of the ship that was, and is no more. And all you can do is float. You find
some piece of the wreckage and you hang on for a while. Maybe it's some physical thing.
Maybe it's a happy memory or a photograph. Maybe it's a person who is also floating. For a
while, all you can do is float. Stay alive.
In the beginning, the waves are 100 feet tall and crash over you without mercy. They come
10 seconds apart and don't even give you time to catch your breath. All you can do is hang
on and float. After a while, maybe weeks, maybe months, you'll find the waves are still 100
feet tall, but they come further apart. When they come, they still crash all over you and wipe
you out. But in between, you can breathe, you can function. You never know what's going to
trigger the grief. It might be a song, a picture, a street intersection, the smell of a cup of
coffee. It can be just about anything...and the wave comes crashing. But in between waves,
there is life.
Somewhere down the line, and it's different for everybody, you find that the waves are only
80 feet tall. Or 50 feet tall. And while they still come, they come further apart. You can see
them coming. An anniversary, a birthday, or Christmas, or landing at O'Hare. You can see it
coming, for the most part, and prepare yourself. And when it washes over you, you know
that somehow you will, again, come out the other side. Soaking wet, sputtering, still hanging
on to some tiny piece of the wreckage, but you'll come out.
Take it from an old guy. The waves never stop coming, and somehow you don't really want
them to. But you learn that you'll survive them. And other waves will come. And you'll
survive them too. If you're lucky, you'll have lots of scars from lots of loves. And lots of
shipwrecks.
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Lori Novo
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