Just feeling compelled to share some thoughts on the oddities of grief. Today I listened to a wonderful podcast episode with Patton Oswalt, Sybrina Fulton, and Hillary Clinton all about the worst mofo ever: grief. One thing that struck me as a now-constantly-grieving human that my never-grieving past (privileged AF) self couldn’t comprehend was the emotional realities of grief. I can talk about the physical deadness of my mom and Aaron in a dry, shocking way with zero emotion. And I can do this all day long.
This is a key reason why I love my friends in the dead loved ones club – because we can make jokes and talk in a way that is the ultimate in cringe and discomfort for most. But – to the general public (me included, circa 2018) – there’s this unspoken expectation and pressure that you become emotional when it’s socially acceptable and turn off the emotional floodgates when it’s not. I have judged myself so hard as people say kind things to me and look at me waiting for a tear or breakdown – but all I can muster is a dry “thanks.” …But then I find myself standing in line at Starbucks two hours later – hear someone order a flat white – and I leave because I can’t stop thinking of Aaron’s coffee order and it’s all too overwhelming and emotional for me to stay there.
Grief is a bitch. If you know, you know. There’s no way around the bitchiness. It’s awkward, messy, has the worst timing, unprofessional, not cute, and all-consuming. The only thing that we can do in grief is drop the judgment. Let people cry and tell them it’s just the worst when someone orders a way too familiar coffee order in front of them, but also understand when you speak platitudes and niceties about their lost loved ones it may result in a tearless, dry thank you.
Either way, all of those emotions matter and exist. It’s the reality of grief and loss whether it’s comfy, comforting, validating or not. In the end it’s not just about comfort or validation, but feeling it all so we can simply be human without expectation.
