This feels like a season of mourning. I already have thoughts about dad running through my head. I feel like there is all this lead-up to the anniversary of his death, in a way I did not feel last year. I was busy dealing with too many other things, presumably.
I feel like punching him in the face and hugging him.
I feel like screaming at him and telling him how much I love him.
All at once.
I have been thinking about how mourning sometimes seems to drive people apart instead of bring them together. It should be our shared human experience, but instead, it often puts us into our own siloed places. You talk about your dead daddy and I can’t help but start talking about mine.
In a recent medium article I shared, the author describes grief like this:
When you experience a loss like this, you get to see a really wild new amount of life. Suddenly the range of the type of sad you can feel, to the type of happy you can feel, is busted open. The spectrum from happy to sad isn’t a foot wide anymore — it’s as far as your arms can stretch and then to the edges of the room and then up the block and over into the next neighborhood.
And that feels so true. My boyfriend is the best human, and probably some of it is because he has this grief. But I feel like I haven’t really had the time to reap the advantages of it. And I worry I won’t ever will. I’ll just have a bigger capacity to feel, but I won’t ever fill it up.
I don’t know what this is to say, totally. Just that I might be an asshole this month, but I still love you all. And can’t we all just grieve together? I don’t really know.