Life After Loss

It feels like loss has touched everyone this year, and it's only April. It's ironic how the tragic loss of someone dear to us can make us feel so heavy in the midst of our emptiness. There's a void in our spirit that can't be filled, yet somehow, instead of feeling lighter, we feel weighed down. And if we don't feel heavy, we feel outside of ourselves, as if watching things play out from a third-person perspective. That's how great of an impact someone's spirit (or lack thereof) can have on those of us who are left behind.

After 25+ years of losing people—whether to the grave or to life itself—I've found that this feeling of being weighed down doesn't simply come from no longer having that person around or in my life. To me, this sensation comes from everything their absence means. It means no more FaceTime calls about random topics. No more inside jokes. No more deep conversations or jewels of wisdom about this whole life thing. No more hugs or 'I love you's'. No more air. Maybe that's it—sometimes, when people leave this world, it can feel like they took the air with them, like they sucked all of the love and energy and happiness and purpose out of our lives, because often times, they themselves were the source of all of those things.

Coming into 2019, loss has presented itself as a theme for the first quarter of this year. Friends of the family have passed on, as well as impactful public figures like Nipsey Hussle, but even with this, nothing hits as close to home for me as my own family scare. When my 92-year-old grandpa was admitted to the hospital on January 1 for emergency surgery, I knew that loss and its dread would drag through the beginning of the year; it had literally been a part of my year since day one. And, since that day, the fear of losing my grandpa or anyone else has followed me like a shadow. Thankfully, he pulled through just fine and is doing much better, but not everyone's loved ones are so lucky. Every week since Grandpa's surgery, I've gotten news of someone's passing, and it seems like I'm not the only one experiencing this kind of "mass loss" in their lives. Be it someone you were close to or someone you simply only know of, I feel like loss has lingered above our heads for quite some time. Like clouds. And as Saidu Tejan-Thomas says in his poem "The Little I've Learned", 'Death is like rain; it falls on everyone's doorstep'.

Having taken several deep-dives into loss and grief, I've found one thing to be true: grief is not linear.

I know we've all been taught that the grieving process is a step-by-step method that happens in order and on time: denial, anger, bargaining, depression, acceptance. But, while we do experience all five stages, we don't do so on a rigid timeline. Think back on loss in your life or the recent, mainstream losses of today. Some days you were okay, and some days you weren't. Monday you were depressed, Wednesday you were accepting, and Friday you were in angry. There was no fixed start or end date. No warning or rules regarding timing or timeline. You were just thrown into it and did your best to cope.

Because that's all grieving truly is: coping.

In the wake of such loss, I want to challenge us to be gentle with ourselves. Grief is a life-long condition. It's not kind and it doesn't care who we are or how hard we're fighting to keep it together. It can really beat us down, so why join in? Being hard on ourselves because of where we are in our grieving process only causes us more hurt. I also challenge us to take care of ourselves as best we can. It's a part of our lives, and like any other part, it can be managed in a healthy way that benefits us instead of hurting ourselves or others. Lastly, I challenge us to live every day like we know how precious it is. Each day is another chance to be better, take risks, do the things that make us happy. Our loved ones are missed for the legacies they left, and we can only build our legacies if we choose to live in spite of grief as well. We owe it to ourselves and the ones we've lost to live in a way that does not allow grief to bind us. Though we may struggle, there's freedom in knowing that it's never too late to decide to keep going.

Life after loss is just life, after all.