Days Like These
Walking through grief one step at a time
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Today was a hard day. We all have them. We all get to walk through them.
Last night, I suspended my Facebook account because no matter what I say there, it continues to be interpreted as an attack, as an affront. I’m a human who looks for answers through questions and discourse, but positive discourse is challenging to come by in this political climate. I was incredibly disappointed by the responses and reactions of those I considered friends—especially those who flaunt their Christianity—and I am trying to maintain peace in my heart and mind.
This morning, my sweet stepdad, Bob, didn’t know me. He didn’t know Julie. He was confused and agitated and offended by some of the questions asked of him. I pulled out pictures of my grandparents; my mom; my kids; my sister and her family; my aunts, uncles, and cousins to help remind him of who I am and who he is within our family. I don’t know if it helped him, but it helped me to see all their faces and remember who I am within my own family.
I cleansed my heart and mind with many tears this morning. Tears of loss. Tears of remembrance. Tears of overwhelm.
Today, I’m feeling the weight of losing so much of my community compounded by the heaviness of losing pieces of my stepfather. He is the last remaining person on this earth who was part of my little original family. The grief of losing my mom and sister comes roaring back in these difficult moments.
Experiencing that kind of loss can make the ground beneath you feel like quicksand, but I am determined not to let it swallow me. I am determined to remember who I am, and by whom I am loved and held.
There are so many.
Today, I am heading out into the world. I will smile at strangers. I will feel the warm breeze on my face. I will be grateful for a new knee that enables me to walk. I will notice the wind in the palms. I will love this land and its living creatures with peace and joy. I will refuse to let hate and intolerance in. I will move from the dark shadows into the light. I will let the sun shine on my face.
I am so sorry, my friend. Grief is hard. Facebook -- ungh! Blarg!
Grief is the beaded curtain or the sprinkler that hits you when you didn't expect it. It flits across you and suddenly you are in a different room. You are soaking wet. You are wrecked or changed or exactly the same. Such a journey. Love you, my new friend, from afar.
I love this piece, and very much relate. I'm a 56 year old lesbian living with my partner of 26 years. We are outraged, disgusted, and so confused by people, some close friends we both have, who, support Trump. I have also lost both parents, so grief is unfortunately a part of my life too. I love how you write and look forward to continuing to read more! 😊