I was recently thrown back into the darkness of grief. One phone call on a Saturday evening split my whole world into before and after. That terrible ache from way down deep, terrifying yet familiar. I have been here before.
I had gotten a little too comfortable in the last eleven years (almost to the day) since my dad passed unexpectedly. I was beginning to relax into the comfort of knowing what was coming next.
I had almost forgotten how the rug can be ripped right out from under your feet out of nowhere.
This time, it is my stepfather. A man I have had in my life since I was four. The only Poppop my boys have known on my side. My mother’s husband and dance partner. Someone who always seemed so indestructible, gone in an instant.
My dad and my stepfather both raised me; they both shaped who I am, and now they are both gone. The ground I stand on doesn’t seem as sturdy.
I selfishly was not ready for this colossal shift in my foundation.
There is a missing piece in the puzzle of my family. There will be an empty chair at our holidays and family gatherings. It’s like someone turning a page too quickly in a book I was still reading. And for my mom, an entire plot twist in the story of her life.
I forgot how heavy fresh grief can be. How surreal it feels walking around with my heart outside of my chest while the rest of the world just goes on.
How exhausting it is to pretend to be fine when everything inside feels like it’s crumbling. How the shock of that day and that phone call play on repeat in my mind, attempting to make sense of the nonsensical.
How joy graciously steps aside and allows the grief in, patiently waiting for me to pick it up again. How when joy does appear, it comes as a much-needed breath of fresh air when I have not even realized I have been holding my breath. How grief gently sits on my shoulder, waiting for its turn again, the way real life comes crashing back after returning from vacation.
And then there is the love.
The people who show up. The ones who reach out. The ones who share our pain because they shared our love. The ones who rearrange their own lives to help us put ours back together.
