How Are You, Really?
This is the face of grief
Straining out something resembling a smile
Choking back the lump that constantly sits in the back of my throat
Pain seeping out my pores
My eyes tell it all
The gaping hole in my soul
Before my dad died I thought that grief was something that happened right after someone dies, something you move on from. I had no concept of the gaping wound left by our loved ones. I had no idea the physical pain that comes along with great loss. I was told soon after my dad died that grief cannot be gotten over, pushed aside or moved on from. It is something we learn to carry. I didn’t know how to do that.
The Face of Grief
This is the face of grief
Straining out something resembling a smile
Choking back the lump that constantly sits in the back of my throat
Pain seeping out my pores
My eyes tell it all
The gaping hole in my soul
I wrote this poem about the mask we wear in grief and what is clawing at the surface three months after my dad died. The shock was wearing off, and the reality of this loss was seeping in. I would sob everyday in the car, the shower, in bed at night. At work I would try to hold it together, but felt the monstrous lump sitting, ready to pounce at any moment and the tearful flood gates would burst open.
If someone asked “How are you doing?” I’d lose my shit. I’m a terrible liar and my face tells it all. I’d try to say “I’m ok” but it was never sincere and people read right through it.
I began to realize that it took more energy for me to pretend to “be ok” so I stopped lying. I began answering, I mean really answering.
“I’m a mess”
“I’m working on it”
“Life is hard and painful right now”
“I miss my dad a lot”
“Meh”
“It’s been really hard”
Some people were not prepared. They stepped back in shock and didn’t know what to say, but I felt better. Some people offered a hug or an “I’m so sorry”.
The thing is, our culture sucks at this! And everyone is going to grieve at some point in their lives.
If we are lucky enough to share immense love we will feel immense pain.
And the thing is, I can’t fake it anymore, nor do I want to. So maybe by being brutally honest, even if it makes people uncomfortable, it sheds a little light on the reality of life and love and loss.
So, I shed my mask. When I need to cry, I don’t hold back, I let the tears flow in public, in front my friends and my daughter. This fucking hurts and it’s ok! It’s ok to be a total mess. It’s ok to show we are in pain. It’s ok to show all of our raw human emotions. It’s ok to ask for a hug and sob on someone’s shoulder. We need each other to get through this.
Almost a year after dad’s passing I had an encounter with a coworker who asked me about being in therapy. I told him a lot is going on in my life and my dad’s death hit me really hard. He basically told me to suck it up and that this is life, people die. He told me I have so many good things going for me. I should stop crying and just smile.
I wanted to say “Fuck you!” But instead I stood there crying and nodding my head, hoping he would just leave.
I know he was trying to be helpful, but what he said was the opposite of helpful. It was so fucking hurtful!
The truth is:
All of our emotions are valid, they do not cancel each other out.
I can be grateful for everything I have and be sad at the same time.
I can show love while being in pain.
I can be successful and still be struggling.
I can cry and still be strong.
Grief does not cancel out the positive in my life. They coexist in this new bittersweet life that takes some time to get used to.
What I thought my life would be like for thirty more years was torn away in an instant. No warning, no preparation, just ripped apart. Our parents are entwined in every crevice, corner and crumb in our lives. They are beside us from birth through every lesson, triumph, struggle and chapter. Maybe that’s why their absence is so enormously painful. I feel as if a huge chunk of myself was ripped away in an instant and I was left to somehow go on with this gaping hole that no one and nothing can fill. The love that began at birth and grew stronger through our lives is left floating in this void with nowhere to go. And the ache that comes with that is intense.
As a society we have gotten really good at ignoring each others struggles, avoiding what makes us feel uncomfortable. Encouraging unhealthy ways of dealing with our hard emotions like drowning them in booze or shoving them deep inside. We play this game of surface talk, pretending everything is sunshine and rainbows, smiling through gritted teeth and clenched jaws.
“Hi, how are you?”
“I’m good! And you?”
“I’m good”
Let’s be real- that’s fucking bullshit and we know it! We aren’t all doing good. Can we please stop sugar coating everything now?
Let’s throw this fake comfortability out the god damn window! Make it awkward, be honest. It is the only way we are going to learn how to sit with each other through all of this better.
Supporting each other doesn’t mean having answers or solutions. We don’t have to know what to say, we don’t have to say anything. Just bear witness, be willing to sit next to each other, share space and breathe. Sometimes just being seen and heard is all we need to help us ride out each wave as it ebbs and flows.
I want to be a part of a supportive community where life and love and loss intertwine. Where we hold each other up when we feel the weight of it all is too much. Where we allow our tears to flow and we stand side by side through it all.
So, how are you, really?