Grief looks different

Grief looks different for different people.

One friend who lost a parent liked to make events significant. There was symbolism in the simple things. Holidays meant sweet times of remembrance and care taken to honor the loved one lost. Finding deep meaning helped this friend to grieve well.

Another friend who lost a parent didn’t want to talk about it. Friends were asked to not ask, to act as if nothing had happened. Normalcy was the best way for this friend to mourn the loss.

Throwing yourself back into work, having minor or major meltdowns, moving to a new state, purging all your loved ones’ things, keeping your loved ones’ room the same as it always was – these are all ways to cope. They’re all valid, they’re all legitimate, they’re all okay. One isn’t better, more effective, more healthy than the other.

But none of them are my way.

My way to grieve is messy. It means lots of tissues and stuffy noses. It means crying until my mascara somehow disappears from my face (I mean seriously, does my skin absorb it? I don’t know where it all goes). It means slogging through a range of emotions (anger, denial, sadness, fear, etc), all of which make me cry, and often sob.

My way to grieve means finding other people who have grieved. It means talking to friends who have lost loved ones. It means reading books about death, dying, grieving, mourning. It means watching movies and TV shows about people who have lost someone.

My way to grieve means talking about my mom and my grief with friends who love me. (This can often be really uncomfortable for my friends, because it’s really disconcerting to see me cry my eyes out. But I promise to all my friends out there that I cry on a dime, and I don’t mind it at all. So don’t be afraid to make me cry or see me cry. It’s how I emote and I don’t feel uncomfortable when it happens.) It means talking through tears, crying and laughing simultaneously, and remembering how much of my crying gene I inherited from my mother.

My way to grieve means taking breaks from grief. It means working when I need to work, putting on a happy face, and being capable in the workplace. It means staying on top of my professional to do list, and having very pleasant phone and email voice. (Exclamation points! Upward intonation in certain phrases!)

My ways, other peoples’ ways, all ways – they’re valid, they’re legitimate, they’re okay. Some are easier to see, to deal with than others. Some are more widely “acceptable” in American culture than others. But all ways deserve respect, recognition, and support.

Because grief is effing hard. And everybody grieves. So let’s support one another in it, no matter what it looks like.