My Dearest Kinhthi,
People ask me, “How I am doing?” My typical response is “I’m doing ok.” The truth is, it’s difficult to explain.
I haven’t shared this with many. That is, what I am internally dealing with. The Transitions from one grieving state to another has been the most challenging period of my entire life. Quite painful I must add. A co-worker experiencing the same challenges asked, “Does it get any easier?” My response was I am doing better job compartmentalizing my emotions. Allowing me to function in the face of grief. When life tells me what I must ACT. Not only to survive but to THRIVE as well.
My process of grieving takes has taken on several forms. Living through such a tragedy takes all your basic emotions leading up to the time of the event, then suddenly amplifies them into unbelievable extremes. I find myself curled up in a ball in a dark corner wondering how I’m going to survive this, figuratively. At this stage of the game, I still have no fucking clue how!!!
{Ok Jim deep breath. I’ll let you know when to breath out…}
As time passes, I feel the changes from one grieving state to the next. I refer to these changes as Transitions.
The Transitions from on-my -knees, hands cupping and holding my head in utter DISBELIEF to Agonizing, crippling painful SHOCK, to most lately, Explosive, mind-altering ANGER, on my way to whatever emotional state awaits my attention and commitment.
I’m not looking for Nirvana, I’m too pragmatic for that. I’ll never forget my mindful sister’s words in that awful moment during your service, “Jim, you WILL experience joy again…” Thank you, Julia, for shedding some light on the road in front of me and a destination to look forward to.
My grief, my personal odyssey in search for the feeling of Joy has never followed a straight line. Throughout my life, I have made some good decisions, some bad decisions, some giving decisions, and from time-to-time, selfish decisions. All of which has left me walking in circles trying to figure out which exit to take off the roundabout. Does this exit take me down a path I that moves me ahead, or sideways, or most dreadfully, pushes me backwards. So far, it’s been a mix bag. However, if I keep my destination in mind, I want to believe that I’m moving forward.
A cliché one gets familiar with when living amongst the grieving, is “Everyone grieves differently.” Truer words have never been spoken. Well, this is my grief story. Why you say?
Because I own It. It is mine. It is a part of me. Alone I allow It to give or take. Alone I adjust Its pain levels. Alone I wear It like a suit of armor. Alone I fear It. Alone I am burden by It. Alone I must live with It, the remainder of my life…
My grief Kinhthi, not only includes you, but your grandfather, injured uncle John, and disunited cousin Robby. I will follow up this note with some stories that have impacted me positively in one way or another. Stories that are helping stay sane. Stories that move me forward during, when at times, seems like an unsurmountable mountain of grief. Please stay tuned!
I miss you so much...