On Grief pt.1 of too many

When we lose someone we love, the pain we feel is a testament to the depth of our connection. It’s a paradox; the very love that once brought us joy now leaves an ache in our hearts and bodies. Despite knowing (or being told) that that ache is a tribute, a way of honoring the bond we shared, it doesn’t make it any easier or faster to process. Here I am, over a year after the loss of my friend, still aching, still angry, and though less frequent, still overwhelmed with sadness.

Having experiences death at an early age, it usually urged me to live authentically, knowing the deep complexity of the statement, “Life is too short” sooner than most who interacted with me did, and perhaps perceived me as too abrasive, blunt, or impatient. Experiencing multiple deaths early in life reminded me, “Express yourself openly. Cultivate connections. Be bold. Be true. You don’t have time to waste.” I’ve noticed however, that outwardly that may come off as nothing more than impatience. But to be fair, saying, “No, don’t you understand?! I could be dead tomorrow! I need to accomplish this NOW, do this NOW, reach my goals, live my life, NOW. I don’t have time for games, you need to know this, now,” might get stranger looks than I get already.

My friend, Daniel, knew that about me. He loved me for it, understood me, and made me feel safe for who I was and what drove and inspired me to be someone to be proud of; someone worthy of love, kindness, respect, and friendship; despite the heartache that came with losing people I thought loved me along the way.

“Duh,” you might say to yourself [if you’re over the age of 30 anyway], “everyone is worthy of that.” I can’t tell you when or where it became hard to believe, but somewhere in the whirlwind of experiences in my life, I doubted myself and everything I had gone through and survived to be who and where I am. Perhaps because my coping mechanisms were too good, people didn’t see, know, or understand what I had gone through to be where I am. Maybe I just got exhausted loving on others and never felt the rejuvenation of being shown the same love and effort in return? I started to internalize that maybe these people who knew nothing about me perhaps actually knew something I didn’t: that I just didn’t deserve it… the effort, the confidence I had in myself, or my ability to thrive and survive.

It’s an insidious thought because if confronted with such absurdity directly, you’d shun the idea! How very dare you. But it’s minor things that tear away at your confidence little by little and over time. From a quick side-eye to their friend, they think you didn’t notice to a slight octave change when you enter the room, the “forgotten” invite to “honest” feedback about your character instead of your performance. It was friends like Daniel who reminded me of the crown I was meant to wear, when it needed to be put aside, and when it needed to be polished. Few people in my life, short of blood relatives, have ever been so bold as to be honest in ways that are not self-serving.

To that effect, he obviously garnered my trust in ways that other people I knew had yet to achieve, not only because of his personality but longevity. We would go months without talking due to “adulting” reasons, but every time proximity brought us close together, we’d pick back up like no time had passed.

I’m sure if you’re still reading this you have at least one person in your life that fits that descriptor but let me urge you to consider the variety of ways you could connect with someone “like no time had passed.” There’s the way that makes you feel like you’ve stepped into a time capsule and suddenly you are spending the hours reminiscing about God knows what and having the best time doing so, and then there’s “like no time has passed” in the way that no matter how life had changed you, no matter what has occurred and how you have adapted, you still connect to this other person on a level of understanding that can only be described as base. At a foundational level, we know what it takes to survive, and we are out here doing it, making it, and then coming back like none of what you did “out there” matters more than who you are in this moment, here. Resting. Being. No performance reviews. Just chillin’ without anyone assessing your worth, your achievements, your impact, your value. You mattered in the silence.

It’s a bit funny to consider. Why was it so difficult to find this in friendships? I still grieve and miss, but I want to get to a place where I remember fondly and smile. Every now and then, it feels like it’s only one of those blocks of time where my friend is out of the country, state, or city. Sometimes I think to myself, “Man, haven’t heard from Daniel in a while. I should text him and see how he’s doing,” or see a meme I want to send, only to remember.

Well, if you were hoping for this to be the start of a healing journey, I make no promises. I continue to navigate the complexities of grief, tracing the sorrow that envelops my body at times, weighing it down, and seeking solace, not in memories, but in the strength buried in the vulnerability I’ve never been good at but will work to embrace.