The importance of Grief

Grief is quite a stigmatized emotion in our society. Crying is something that we never quite know how to handle, even as adults. I have never known how to talk about the grief I feel and when it is appropriate to connect with others. Then I stumbled upon Anderson Cooper’s podcast, “All There Is.” I was tempted to skip listening to this podcast because I knew it was going to be a difficult one to listen to. Let’s back up a minute, though; let’s talk about my relationship with grief and the two losses that loom large in my mind when it comes to grief.

When I was a toddler, my grandfather was dying from Parkinson’s disease. I have few memories of him from that time, and the ones that I do have took a while to place as a child. I remember Grandpa reaching for myself or my brother, and one of us was crying out. He was sitting in a wheelchair, and I think we were both just afraid of the unknown contraption. There’s another memory of Dad dressed up and standing next to a podium that Grandma is speaking at. Not long after I see Dad standing up there, Mom takes my brother and I to a playroom where I find a tin cup or bowl with grit inside. I remember disliking that the dish was dirty and wanting it to be clean. When I got older, my Mom explained that what I remembered was Grandpa’s memorial service.

I’ve heard many stories about my Grandpa from my Grandma and Dad. I’ve heard about how he took Dad fishing and to basketball games. I heard a story of how he sent a friend to ask my Grandma if she’d be open to being a couple again after he’d ended the relationship and regretted it. I knew he was close to getting his PhD but put that aside to provide for his family. At times it has felt like I’m trying to get to know a ghost. I’d ask questions, and what I was trying to reach for was I wanted to know what it would feel like to be in his presence. I wanted to know what it would be like for him to give me a hug.

When I was really little, I would pretend to have conversations with him, and he would give me advice. He is the “imaginary friend” I decided to never outgrow because I still talk to him, and I love our conversations. I missed him at every major event that happened in my childhood and into my early adulthood. I wanted him to be there when I graduated from high school. I wished he could’ve attended my 8th-grade awards night when I got the citizenship award that I had really wanted to get. Once I got home after that awards ceremony, I went outside and looked up at the stars. I told Grandpa that I had finally done it. I missed him when I graduated from college. When I went through my mental health crisis and got my autism diagnosis, sometimes all I wanted was to have a conversation with him about the trauma life can inflict on us. I have cried a lot for someone I never really knew. It took a long time, but I made peace with the fact that I wasn’t going to really know more about him. I’m so grateful that I was able to hear the stories from my Grandma when I was younger, especially since her stroke has wound up hampering her mental faculties at this point in her life.

I still choose to have conversations with Grandpa because it helps me feel as though I’m less alone. Growing up, I felt guilty that one of us had cried out because we were afraid of the wheelchair. We hadn’t had much time with him, and I wish we had just let him hold us. While I’ll never know what it would’ve been like for him to be my grandpa for a longer period of time, I have drawn some lessons from his life.

I’ve learned it’s okay to apologize when you make a mistake and ask for a second chance. Working hard even when the odds are against you is the way you want to go through life. It’s not always about living a glitzy life; it’s about living a good life and being a good person. Managing the finances so that your wife can live at home as she ages is a pretty awesome legacy. I will always miss him, and I’m grateful for the person he showed me I can become. Sometimes the legacy a person leaves us with has a greater impact and shows us how they walked the earth when they were here.

The second loss that I grieved very deeply is the loss of our family dog Molly, which happened about five years ago. I grew up very dysregulated, and Molly was consistently a balm for calming my anxiety. She never expected me to be anyone I couldn’t be. I would lay with my head on her stomach and listen to her heart. Sometimes all I could hear was her stomach making noises, but I loved those noises because that meant she was alive; she was still here with me.

I always knew her life would be shorter than mine; I dreaded the day that she would pass, but I enjoyed every minute I had with her. My childhood contained so much suffering that I wanted to be rid of. Molly kept me calm, grounded, loved, and happy. She was the best dog that anyone could’ve asked for. We didn’t need to train her a lot, and she was just fun to be around.

We still laugh about how she loved to lay on the light blue rug that Mom had just purchased. As a black dog, her fur and any dirt that ended up on her coat would create an outline of where she would lay down on the rug. She would always wander into a bedroom when there was thunder and lightning at night. She would sleep on a stair between us and the main level. I saw her out the window as a nine-year-old and knew I wanted her even though I didn’t know how I would get her.

Losing her was the first time that I’d witnessed death and grieved a being I’d loved so deeply as I had and do love her. I still cry when I think about her and I always wish she was still here. She was such a representation of joy, love, and happiness for my entire family. When we lost her, my Mom had a good point about why losing a pet is so painful and sometimes even more so than a human family member. We don’t typically have a complicated relationship with pets. They are pure love. Losing them is losing that pure love.

I feel as though losing Molly has taught me that knowing that pain is inevitable doesn’t invalidate the love we experience in the meantime. I would still love her and be heartbroken when I lost her all over again to get those years I had with her. Now that I’ve experienced grief as an adult, it makes me want to love those around me deeply every chance I get. The time we all get on this earth is never guaranteed, and you can’t predict how long you’ll have someone in your life. I’m not afraid to have another dog, and I’m not afraid to love those who might be closer to the end of their lives than I am. I treat the one life I have as a gift, and I want to gift the love I possess while it is still mine to give.