I’ve thought a lot about what I’d share here on the blog this week. I’ve been working to keep an editorial calendar, like a big girl writer would — a calendar where I plan out what I share and have everything ready to go in advance. That way, when life gets busy like this past weekend, I won’t neglect this work.
I had a few different posts in mind. I have a few started that just need polishing and a few still dancing around in my head. I thought and thought and couldn’t settle on what exactly I’d share this week. That calendar I bought is still blank. There’s nothing written on its days in a fun color with my favorite pens.
This is sort of a big week. This is the week that we’ll celebrate Zach’s 2nd Re-birthday. This will be the second anniversary of the day that he almost left us. Thankfully, he fought so hard to stay. I thought, I would finally put the words of that day into written form. Two years seems like plenty of time to process and get it out on paper. Wouldn’t it be perfect blogging content to have that post go live on this anniversary? (Here’s a brief recap from the first anniversary if you’re unfamiliar.)
I started a few paragraphs and after having recounted the story with him just last week, it felt doable. It felt like this might finally be the time where this huge moment in my life gets documented here. The intro was done and I just needed a moment of stillness to pull the rest out. This post wasn’t written on that calendar, even though I was still thinking I’d probably make it happen.
Then, on Sunday, the world lost a hero. I watched as so many people were affected by the tragic death of someone they mainly knew from a screen. I took notice as I felt the familiar ache of loss too. It forced me to think about the brevity of life again, right on the verge of an important date for us. I was forced to remember my feelings and fear from that horrific time where I almost lost my best friend, just two short years ago. The heartache of all of the loss I’ve experienced was triggered and I thought of it all, one by one.
Sometimes death is slow and you can see it on the horizon. Sometimes it’s fast and immediate. As someone who has navigated many types of death, I can say it’s never easy, no matter how much experience you have. It’s not like riding a bike, where the more you ride it, the easier it becomes. What I learned about myself in 2018 was that even though I’d suffered more loss than most people, I didn’t actually know how to process it. I thought I was an expert. In reality, I am an expert at sitting grief to the side and carrying on about my life.
Today, as I think about the magnitude of people mourning the loss of Kobe Bryant, I feel that heaviness too. I feel it, even though I never watched much basketball. I feel it, even though I can’t rattle off his stats or career highlights. My strongest connection to Kobe was that we shared a last name, and I sometimes told people we were cousins.
It feels like I shouldn’t be allowed to feel sadness over the loss of someone I barely knew and I have to remind myself that all grief is allowed, always. It looks different for every person and there’s no formula for that. There’s also no shortcuts. There’s no timeline or expiration where you can reasonably expect to be done. There’s no calendar where you can write in down in a pretty color and expect it to stop there.
If you’re like me, things just feel a little heavier this week. If you’re like me, you might also need permission to feel that heaviness. It might seem silly or unnecessary or poorly timed. Nonetheless, let this be your (and my) permission slip to feel it anyway.
When I look for meaning in this writing today, all I can find is a message of permission. Permission to feel your grief, whether it be for a national hero like Kobe Bryant or for something in your own circle. You have permission. Permission to feel it now or years later, as I did. Permission to feel sad or angry or unmotivated. Permission to let the heaviness of it cover you like a thick blanket. And most importantly, permission to feel overcome at times, even when you can’t explain the timing or reasoning.
Sometimes, it’s not just death that needs a grieving period. Sometimes it’s the loss of an item like a home or important possession or relationship. Sometimes it’s illness. Sometimes it’s simply the loss of a dream or the realization that things aren’t going to go as you planned. There’s all sorts of things that transpire in our lives that are deserving of grief.
Today, as the world continues to spin beyond our control, I hope you find the strength to keep pressing forward, no matter what obstacles have shown up in your world. What you’re feeling is permissible. You have the freedom to feel those things as strongly as you need to. Just know, no matter what, you’re loved and championed through it all. You’ll find your way through this season, because you’ve always found your way. You’re strong and courageous and this world is a better place because you’re here. You’re inspiring others by doing your hard work. Thank you for being you.
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As I read this message one last time before posting, I realize that this message, while being shared with all of you, is really for me. It’s really the transcription of my own thoughts as I work to give myself space to feel what I feel this week. It’s my own pep talk as I push myself to actually feel instead of sitting those feelings to the side. As my world begins to change again and as I’m faced with the anniversaries of important dates, I feel a bit consumed. I don’t know how else to describe it besides saying it feels heavy. Like a hippopotamus sitting on my chest. My hope is that by still hitting the publish button, someone else feels freedom to sit with their own heaviness too. We’re in this together, after all.
