“Without the experience of trouble, calamity, grief, and adversity, you would not have courage, strength, joy and patience.” – Nishan Panwar
Initially, I was going to write about how freaking exhausting, and yet joyful Spring is for parents of school aged children. However, my planned single-subject tirade was harshly interrupted. Because shit happens, right?
I arrived, late and halfheartedly, to my oldest child’s lacrosse game on a recent evening. I was feeling overwhelmed with All The Things To Be Done, wanting to be there and not wanting to be there in equal measure (and feeling the crushing guilt the not wanting to be there brings), and on the tail end of what felt like months, but was actually maybe an hour, of having my ears melted by my 9 year old’s never ending monologue of statements, emotions, and questions that demanded an immediate answer.
My cellphone rang, which it never does, except for appointment reminders and spam calls. I almost tapped that thingy on the side that silences calls, but I glanced at the caller ID. It was my best friend from college, one of very few people whom I could not, and would not, ever send to voicemail and tell them to text me instead.
I was greeted with a small “hi” and a deep breath, and I knew that I needed to walk away from the lacrosse field. She then informed me that our friend, our sorority sister, our college roommate, had passed away unexpectedly. I listened and could only murmur small words as she told me what happened. My heart started to break as I heard her sorrow and felt her same pain. I winced as she told me about how recently they had talked and how many times they had tried to get together, but, you know, shit happens, life is busy and there is always next time.
We discussed how unbelievable, how awful and how freaking sad it was that this woman, whose presence could command a room, whose laugh was infectious, who told the funniest jokes, who hid her pain from most of the world, who was on the 77th floor of the North Tower on 9/11 and made it out alive, who serenaded us endlessly in college with her rendition of “Something to Talk About”, who could turn a minor discomfort into a super urgent huge medical emergency, who loved her mom, who adored her child, who had just in the past few years found the love of her life and was living as her best self, had actually left us.
Two days later, I found myself tagged in a post disseminating the news about a high school friend who passed away the previous evening from a massive heart attack. Although I hadn’t physically seen him in over 20 years, we were close friends back in the day. He was funny, like FUNNY funny, and he had a generous heart and great kindness. He had, like my college friend, found love again and remarried within the last few years. He had also recently announced that his wife was expecting a baby boy, and this was some really awful shit that happened.
Here’s the thing; these events occurred while my oldest kid was in the playoffs for state champions for lacrosse, which was thrilling and time consuming. My youngest kid had just finished her season with Girls on the Run, and was also playing some exciting lacrosse games, which I was helping to coach. I hadn’t seen my suddenly deceased friends any time recently, although we had re-connected via social media within the last decade. So there were all these conflicted feelings and confusion; I wanted more than anything to be fully present for my kids and their good shit happening, but yet, here were these feelings, these losses which I felt acutely, but was struggling with how to process and where to put these feelings about this really bad shit that happened.
It was difficult for me to define and put perspective on my grief, and maybe this is an issue with social media. If I hadn’t reconnected with these people from my past through social media, I may or may not have had any connection with them at all. I may not have been reminded of our friendships and moments and years past when I saw their posts, I might have had no knowledge about their current lives, and perhaps wouldn’t have been able to rejoice in their happiness or grieve their deaths.
And that train of thought made me feel like my sorrow wasn’t justified, like I had no right to grieve for these people I had once been close to, or even feel bad for their families and friends that they had been more recently connected with. And I was concerned that if I stopped for a moment to process these events, that I would be less than present for important shit happening in my children’s lives. So I ended up spending a few days sad, confused, conflicted, not present and bogged down in my own shit.
And then…and it wasn’t a sudden epiphany, it was after seeking comfort, wisdom and conversation from and with friends and family…I realized that my feelings of grief were valid and worthy. And then I shouldn’t try to skirt around them, but embrace and move through them, so that I could be fully engaged with the shit happening in front of my face.
I allowed myself time. Time to think, time to cry, time to mentally thank these individuals for being a part of my life, for helping form who I am today. They may have no longer been a part of my day-to-day, but they certainly had their place in my life and in my heart. And I allowed myself to feel sorrow and concern for their families and other loved ones who may have no idea who I am now or was in the past to my friends.
And guess what? I’m still feeling sadness and loss, and it’s still going to take awhile to navigate this. However, I have also been able to appreciate the good shit happening. I’ve watched and felt great excitement and happiness about my girls’ team playing with heart and winning the state middle school lacrosse championship. I have been able to express my pride to my girl and gratitude to her coaches.
I was able to put my heart into coaching my other girls’ lacrosse team and feel happiness in their accomplishments and achievements. I have been able to function at my job and care for the small humans in my care with all of my abilities not only intact, but with intention and confidence.
Grief and joy can exist together. I’d venture to say that, in fact, they cannot exist without each other. Tara and Chris, I will not soon forget you. I have great hopes for your families’ resiliency, and I have so much gratitude for your influence on my life.
The world is a little bit dimmer and a little bit sadder without you both in it. I’m pretty confident that you’d be sending me some positive thoughts about the good things going on in my life, as much as I would send them to you. As much as I will be sending them to your families.
So I will unabashedly revel in the triumphs, joy and successes achieved by my children, myself, and by my friends and family, even while I grieve the loss of you both. And I have made a promise to extend myself, at least just a little bit more, to make sure that the people I know feel appreciated, heard, and cared about. As well as taking a little more time to pause, reflect, and value small and large moments as they happen.
Because, as we know…shit happens.
Until Next Time…
Just Breathe.
The Twisted Maven
©The Twisted Maven, 2019