It’s been a long week (It’s Tuesday morning, I know lol!) but hear me out. Last weekend I lost my grandmother and it was really tough to process. I won’t make it to the funeral so I’ve been working on carving out the space and time to grieve — to allow my mind to take in the loss, this newsletter post is very much a part of that (so thank you for being here)
I don’t often make it back to funerals at home very often for a multitude of reasons. The flight time to Perth is 25 hours, visa issues aside (I am in the midst of renewing my visa and applying for my green card) I would also have had to factor a 2 day buffer (as they’re one day ahead with the time difference) and consider child care for my passport-less one year old (something I was not quipped to do both emotionally and figuratively at this time) so in times of loss like this when I am unable to attend the funeral, I try my best to disconnect from the present and really allow myself the silence to process this new reality of loss.
Distance can be a dangerous thing in which it allows you to shield yourself from dealing with that. I did it a couple of years back when I lost my cousin Brian. Born only one month apart, we were extremely tight. I didn’t make it back to his funeral either and the shock of his very unexpected loss permanently warped my sense of acceptance and often times I will hear a song or go to send him a funny note before being reminded that he isn’t there. When I had my first two miscarriages, I thought that my grief would be eternal. I muted friends online who shared recent pregnancies and in some way I muted life too. I found the common Kubler-Ross understanding that there were 5 stages of grief nonsensical. To suggest a flow of feelings would be to signify a beginning, middle and end — unlike the emotional roller coaster I constantly felt myself on. I beat myself up about the abortions I had. One as a teenager and one in an unhealthy relationship that wasn’t right. I convinced myself something medical had gone wrong in the process and I had become infertile. I saw a psychic who told me that I had a baby girl who was really trying to get to me, in hindsight.. she wasn’t wrong but the vision haunted me and I would go to bed seeing variations of my daughter stuck in a hell like limbo trying to reach me.
My grandmother was a woman of a word. She said she wanted to go and she did. Peacefully in her own home at 89 and surrounded by her loved ones. We had all said our goodbyes at this stage so the last few days were like waiting for the inevitable, which didn’t make it easier but still bittersweet in knowing she went to a better place and to be reunited with my grandad. My grandparents were the first example of a healthy, committed and loving relationship. My parents never had anything nice to say about each other and between their constant fighting and my Dad’s extended absence (*in an effort to not completely air my family’s dirty laundry here, i’m going to put it that way… but I’ll let you do the math there) my grandparents were the ones who always felt like home.
My grandad would pick my sister and I up from school when my mother worked late, which was most days and would hang out with us at our after school activities or take us back to their place. My grandma would be there, tending to her rose garden, playing a game of mahjong or watching her favorite show, The Bold and The Beautiful. I would sit by her chair as she watched this.. silently (!! no words were to be spoken during this show) and lay my head against her lap. I would listen to her and my grandad playfully bicker and hope one day that I would also find my person who I would never in our time together spend a day without, the polar opposite to my parents who were only ever apart.
The whole experience was also very reaffirming in how powerful our minds can be and the fact that we all essentially have the ability to choose to exit life. She wanted to go and she did. The scientific term for this being Psychogenic Death in which the act of giving up on life and dying usually within days, is a very real condition often linked to severe trauma.
It was also my first time as a mother with responsibilities and a human depending on me, when ordinarily in this scenario my immediate reaction would be to cancel all life obligations, lounge around in bed watching Gilmore Girls whilst looking at old photos and ugly crying.. I had to be there. I had to show up. So I did. I’m extremely grateful for the reason to. If you’ve been through/ are going through similar maybe this can be helpful to you. To know that you’re not alone.
I’m not sure if any of this makes sense. I am not a writer but I’ve always found it deeply cathartic to share. As always, thanks for taking the time to step outside with me. I’ll be back next time with my usual jokes (I promise!)