How do you live without your favorite person?
Have you ever had an aha moment that felt like it unlocked a new level of understanding for your life?
That happened to me a few weeks ago. I met with a new counselor because I didn’t like the way I was feeling and wanted to explore why.
She asked lots of great questions; but of course, nothing was solved in one session. The real magic happened after I left. The entire week I’ve been journaling and exploring answers to a few of the questions.
Then it all clicked.
I’ve been so hard on myself for not doing the things I typically like to do. I haven’t been sending cards to friends, I’ve had zero desire to travel, and I’ve been hesitant to add more than a few things to my calendar each week. While some of these things feel GREAT, I also have an underlying energy issue that doesn’t seem to go away.
I have worked with my doctor on ways to improve my energy and I’m sure there is still more work to do, but I realized there’s something else that has been contributing to this sense of not being fully me. Grief.
The last two years have been filled with some of the highest highs and lowest lows. I’ve felt more joy and peace in the last few years than all the previous years combined. It makes me emotional to think of that being my default no matter the circumstances in my life. As someone who is naturally anxious, having a feeling of calm be your default is the biggest relief.
…AND
I’ve been tired.
I talked to my mom the other day and she mentioned a conversation with a man who recently lost a parent. He said he grieved the loss long before it happened, because the health condition forced the family to see their loved one leave before their eyes.
Almost at the same time, my mom and I said, “me too.”
My grandpa has always been my favorite person. The one who always believed in me, supported my dreams, and made sure I had everything I needed. The one who gave me encouraging words without even knowing what was wrong. The one I could always count on.
And that version of him is no longer there. I can see him. I can hug him. I can speak to him. But there are no conversations and sometimes he doesn’t know who I am.
He is still here with us but he’s a different person from the one our family has always known. That’s hard. To physically see someone you love start to leave while still being present is something I can’t explain.
Lately he’s been saying “he’s ready to go home” and “he won’t be here much longer.” I don’t know if this is just a southern thing, but in my family when an older person says that it means they are telling you heaven is calling.
How do you grieve the loss of your favorite person?
I don’t know.
What confuses me even more is having the healthiest time of your life, a time filled with peace and joy, happen alongside the period of the greatest grief.
How can joy and grief show up and dance together? I don’t know. And I know it is happening anyway.
One thing I do know is the lesson this is teaching me. All of life won’t align when you want. There will be sadness and disappointment but that doesn’t mean you can’t feel any joy or peace.
It’s okay to feel a wide range of feelings at one time. We have the capacity to hold seemingly conflicting emotions.
Having someone who loves you unconditionally is the joy of a lifetime. Seeing them in pain and knowing there is nothing you can do about it is the worst feeling.