Grief - Blog Posts
25 May 4:25 am
I have sat here and typed and retyped but nothing comes out that can express the feeling, the only way I can think of is asking the question... When will it pass?
When will I stop picking up the phone to call you only to remember that where you are you cannot receive calls? When will I be excited and not have the instant thought to share it with you knowing that I can't? When will I be able to go to sleep without wishing I did so knowing you were one of the people I spoke to in my day? When does it end? When does this loop end? I am tired. Please stop this feeling because it hurts too much.
sorrows inside
part 1/4 of mourning your reciprocation
the sun was shining brighter than ever at noon. this morning, my therapist told me to focus on the way it shines slim, curved lines of yellow on the pristine pebbles along the street as i walked back home. i was doing a good job at it, if you don’t count a few minor distractions like a swaying hyacinth and a snowy husky dog that served a pang to my head as a forceful reminder of how much you loved them. but i left it there. it should be there, and shouldn’t have travelled down, stuck at the base of my throat before sending a drastic fall. but it did, when i crawled on the crimson bench alone against the white walls of a shelter that i was supposed to spend dreamlike moments in with you. but it did, tugging a tumultuous crash to my aching heart. my heart pulsed once. badump. medicinal chemicals overlapping hints of metallic blood filling my nostrils. twice. badump. cardboard boxes weighing on my hands nearly as heavy as my heart was, with no one to share. thrice. badump. fingers smearing red paints on this very bench that would definitely illicit disapproving sighs from you because red on white stands glaring to the eyes, and i might’ve considered changing it just to suit your tastes if you were here. but ifs are never realities. this reality takes shape in the day you met me again, with a foreign look, almost a sick politeness in place of that affection you once held in your eyes, preserved for only me when it was just us two.
after that fated meeting, i indulged in my overwhelming moods a little. i painted this bench red when i decided on dedicating it to be all that my bleeding heart is, for it shows off shades of uneven reds, wounded with imperfections and lonesome against the white walls of our dreams behind my back. still, by allowing constant turns of my head, i’ve been associating you with everything around me. it’s an act that should be forbidden if i want you and i to truly move on. then again, if isn’t this reality. i want to feel sorry for myself, this time, for being unable to make that if into a reality.
the shade casts a looming sorrow on my hunched figure: your heart is obliviously white to an incomplete crimson that is mine.
The many faces of loss
I always get so grumbly with humans that think loss is a simple thing. A death, job change, relationship end, and many other forms of loss can have lasting, and often hidden (even to the one dealing with it) effects. So many people focus on the short term handling of the loss, or the lingering obvious issues and seem to think they know how the person should or shouldn't be acting. It's complete ridiculousness. NOBODY has ANY right to tell ANYONE how they should feel, or how the loss impacts them in their own realities. EVERY SINGLE CREATURE deals with each loss in their own ways. Some of the effects can be dealt with quickly and easily, some make permanent changes and will never be fully understood. NEVER.... EVER... let ANYONE tell you that you are somehow broken, or messed up, for how a loss impacts your own thoughts. Those who are trying to help will usually offer support, reassurance, patience, and space. If the person you think is there to help is pressuring you, making you feel like something is wrong with you, or is irritated by how things are effecting you... they are clearly NOT as helpful as they want to believe they are. If someone doesn't understand and is a bit inconvenienced because of your handling of a loss, that... is completely understandable... BUT... if they allow that to become an attitude towards you... THEY are the ones with a problem... NOT YOU! This human experience does not come with complete and foolproof instructions. We each have to figure things out in our own ways, no matter how many others try to tell us they have all the answers. So, if you're out there, and you're dealing with something, and you're feeling a bit beaten.... just remember.... you got this. There are those of us out there that understand it's complicated, it takes time, and USUALLY it's a lot more messy than anyone cares to admit. Just keep picking at it. You'll get where you need to be with it, if you really want to. Believe. ... Much love.
your parched roots are set on my wetland heart, i have fed you well after your teeth sunk into my skin and severed my arteries. there are no good endings.
grenade grudges blow up; and there are two casualties.
3 years ago today they sat me down and told me you weren’t going to be okay.
Not because of cancer or a heart attack.
Something stupid.
An accident.
I didn’t even know that the last time I spoke to you would be the last.
Somehow it wasn’t a fight.
Somehow, you complemented me for the first time in a long time.
It felt like a new start.
A tenuous truce.
And then you were gone.
Forever.
It really was that bad.
We really did hurt each other.
We said awful things to each other.
Why did we have to hurt each other?
Was my pride that important?
Was the house always being messy that bad?
Could we have compromised somewhere?
Yeah. We could have.
But we can’t anymore.
Because you’re gone.
And I’m all that’s left.
You can’t apologize to a grave.
You got hurt suddenly, fatally.
I had my nose in the newest Andy Weir book and I was obsessed with it. The moment I heard my brother stomp on the floor above me, his door fly open, and the sound of an ambulance over a speakerphone lives in my brain.
It won't ever leave, though I didn't know it at the time.
You got hurt... A lot.
Like chronically.
On the way out the door I grabbed my book.
I figured you'd be okay.
I planned on a late night in the hospital, letting my mom go home to sleep while the kept you for observation and, hey, I could read my book.
I never opened that book again.
I returned it to the library unfinished.
"I couldn't take it, couldn't stand another minute
Couldn't bear another day without you in it
All of the joy that I had known for all my life
Was stripped away from me the minute that you died
To have you in my life was all I ever wanted
But now without you, I'm a soul forever haunted
Can't help but feel that I had taken you for granted
No way in hell that I can ever comprehend this!"
~
-Red Like Roses, Jeff Williams
Whumptober No.19
...Well then. This was not how she planned to be spending her Tuesday afternoon... Dumb villains getting in the way of her going to the bookstore-
(Click for better quality)
Sonnet Macabre by Theodore Wratislaw
I love you for the grief that lurks within
Your languid spirit, and because you wear
Corruption with a vague and childish air,
And with your beauty know the depths of sin;
Because shame cuts and holds you like a gin,
And virtue dies in you slain by despair,
Since evil has you tangled in its snare
And triumphs on the soul good cannot win.
I love you since you know remorse and tears,
And in your troubled loveliness appears
The spot of ancient crimes that writhe and hiss:
I love you for your hands that calm and bless,
The perfume of your sad and slow caress,
The avid poison of your subtle kiss.
How they'd comfort you after losing a pet
(hey, guys!!! this is the final request in my queue, so I will make a post announcing request are once again OPEN ♡ I apologize for the lateness, I've been dealing with heart issues and some complications with work but I didn't forget about y'all!! I hope these headcanons bring peace and comfort to those who need it 💕)
John
John would be straightforward, but empathetic
He would sit with you, offering a listening ear and a shoulder to cry on
Though he's not the greatest at comforting words, he would express his understanding of your feelings and emphasize the validity of your emotions
After hearing you describe your pet's unique features and seeing the photos you showed him, he surprises you with a (somewhat crude, but very sweet and personal) art piece of them
John might recommend adopting another animal companion together when the time is right
He would also share his own experience with loss and how he found comfort in memories and shared love
Paul
Paul would be very nurturing and comforting towards you, as always
He might bring over a sweet treat or make you some tea just the way you like it, knowing that simple gestures can mean the most to someone who is grieving
He'd share comforting words and reassurances, emphasizing the unconditional love that pets give and how their memory can live on through stories and shared experiences
Paul would share stories about his own pets and how they inspired some of his songs (think "Martha My Dear")
He would sit down with you and help you write a song about your beloved companion, composing a gentle and soothing melody on the guitar, understanding the healing power of music
He would likely bring you a small gift as a token of remembrance, such as a charm bracelet with their name engraved
George
George would talk about the interconnectedness of all living beings and how our pets leave a lasting imprint on our souls
He would offer comforting words about the eternal nature of love and memory
He might suggest meditation to sit with your feelings or calming music to soothe the grief
Above all, he would encourage you to release your emotions when they overwhelm you - whether it be by crying, journaling, or whatever eases your pain
George would help you create a small memorial space/altar in your home, complete with candles, flowers, and a favorite toy or photo of your pet
He'd gift you a flowering plant as a symbol of growth and renewal, offering hope for healing and moving forward
Ringo
Ringo would be incredibly compassionate and understanding, and create a supportive environment for healing
He might lighten the mood by sharing anecdotes about his own pets behaving in amusing ways, sharing how they brought joy into his life and reminiscing about heartwarming moments
He would encourage you to take time for a favorite hobby or comfort activity to take your mind off of your grief and sadness
He'd also provide physical comfort at a time when it's needed most
Ringo uses his crafting skills (if you can call them that) to help you a photo album or scrapbook to immortalize your favorite memories
He would invite you to watch a sweet and funny movie together, offering distraction and a chance to share a cozy moment of connection
"if it was me i wouldn't have looked" "if it was me i would've taken her out of the underworld safely" not me. i would've looked. i am a looker. i look out for the people i love.
a couple of weeks ago i was at a college party with hundreds of people. my best friend and i were trying to go through all the people to get to a foodtruck. i was in front of him, leading the way. and i couldn't help but look back every five seconds to see of he was still right behind me. i couldn't help but put a hand behind my back for him to hold it so i would know he was there. i couldn't help but worry about losing him in that mass of people. and one time, when i looked back and didn’t see him right away my heart dropped. because he is my best friend and i love him and i want to make sure he is safe
if i can't lead my best friend to a foodtruck in the middle of a party without worrying, without looking, without loving, how could orpheus lead his wife, the love of his life, out of the underworld, out of death, without worrying, without looking, without loving?
It is a curious thing, the death of a loved one. We all know that our time in this world is limited, and that eventually all of us will end up underneath some sheet, never to wake up. And yet it is always a surprise when it happens to someone we know.
It is like walking up the stairs to your bedroom in the dark, and thinking there is one more stair than there is. Your foot falls down, through the air, and there is a sickly moment of dark surprise as you try and readjust the way you thought of things.
Lemony Snicket, Horseradish
The guilt that comes with grieving.
I lost my grandfather about a month ago, and now all I can think about every day is that I should have listened to his stories more. I should have spent more time with him. I should have cared more. I hate my younger self for not showing him how much I loved and appreciated him. I was only a kid, but I still feel so much guilt.
He had dementia and yet his face would light up whenever we saw him. He knew who we were up until his last day's and the way he reacted showed us how much he loved us but I don't think I'll get over the fact that I didn't love him enough until it was too late.
For the past couple of years, he has been my favourite person. I learnt more about him within three years than I did my whole life and the things I learnt about his childhood made me hate myself even more. He went through so much and dedicated his adulthood to making sure his children and grandchildren had better parental figures than he did.
I love him so much, but I will always be afraid that I loved him too late.
Nova would have been heartbroken when Tech died.
He was the one that told her she could do it, the one that helped her recover in her darkest times. He was the one that understood her anxiety in social situations.
Nova would have tried to use the force to save Tech. But she couldn't. She felt like she had failed him.
