Death has always been a passive experience for a bigger part of my life. Whenever I received news that someone had passed on, the usual ‘condolences’ with the praying hands emoji did the trick. It came in handy, showing you acknowledge their loss just enough and that you sympathize with their loss. This reminds me vividly of the Grey’s Anatomy’s All I could do was Cry episode where April Kepner and Jackson Avery lose their child. The depth with which the writers capture loss, death and the emotions it riles up in people could not have been more relatable.
There’s a thing we say when someone dies. We say it to the patient’s family. We say ‘I’m sorry for your loss.“ It’s a powerful little phrase, an empty one. It doesn’t begin to cover what’s actually happening to them. It lets us empathize without letting us feel their devastation ourselves. It protects us from feeling that pain, that dark, seeping, relentless pain. The kind that can eat you alive and everyday I thank God for that….
~ April Kepner (Season11, Ep.11-All I Could Do Was Cry)
GREY’S ANATOMY
It was until recently that grief became a close companion. First, I lost my grandfather after longstanding illness. We were not close but I fondly remember him teaching my siblings and I how to count in our vernacular language. This was one of the earliest memories I have of him. He was strong willed and right there by his side was my grandmother who loved every my company in the kitchen. She would solve every problem I had with a fried egg or a cup of milk. At 27, we got news that my grandfather had passed on in hospital. The news did not come as a shock to me. When I received it, first thing that came to mind was my father and his siblings (uncles and aunts) and more importantly-my grandmother. As they say, I couldn’t begin to imagine the pain she was going through. I toughened up as that was what everyone else was doing. I noticed my father was great at getting distracted during the times of loss. He never showed any emotion, there were many many more important things to do. From ensuring the guests at the home were well accommodated to whether my grandmother was comfortable. There’s just so much to do, you know.
Second was my uncle my father’s brother, from suicide. The family was distraught and in pain. This was another hit barely a year after my grandfather’s death. Once again, my heart went out to my grandmother. Again, I could not imagine the pain she was in for losing her son and in such a terrible way. But of more concern was the anguish he must have been in to come to the conclusion that life in itself isn’t even worth it. The days he spent smiling, laughing and talking while hurting deeply on the inside was pain that is unfathomable. I wondered about the last straw, the last thing that made it unbearable. I wondered and still do about how lonely and hopeless he must have felt for him. From this, there’s still so much that my father had to do for his late brother. All the guests had to be well taken care of. There’s just so much to do, you know.
Third was my uncle. He was genuinely a good person. His death was a shock to the family. The anguish his wife is going through. I looked at his 2 year old daughter who was just getting to know her father and my heart breaks each time. He was the closest thing to a father figure I had. Our engagements were pretty straight to the point and he was the only person interested in what my career goals and dreams were. He was keen on asking what kind of life I wanted for myself and what I can do to achieve it. And now he is gone. He had done so much for his family and those around him. The support family, friends and colleagues showed was overwhelming. This time around, my father still had so much to do, you know guests and all.
How are you, really?
The apple doesn’t fall far from the tree. Throughout these episodes of loss, I was busy you know, so much to do.
I drowned myself in work. It made sense to complete one task after the other. I was making progress, so much progress in as far as work was concerned. This was a handy distraction that was always demanding more. It pushed the hurt and pain away and I kept smiling. I was happy, or so I thought. A couple of months later, I was speaking to a friend over the phone. The conversation was great until she asked how I was really and the lump in my throat could not hold it any longer. I broke down. I couldn’t stop crying. With every sniffle, the bouts of pain seemed to increase and the more painful it got. How are you, really? I’m not okay.
I love indulging in a good book and I haven’t done so in a while. I really haven’t indulged in things I enjoy in a while , I’ve been busy. Writing for instance, on this blog and on my journal has been difficult. Hearing my thoughts past the pain was overwhelming so I chose avoidance. In a bookshop the other day, I bumped into Sheryl Sandberg & Adam Grant’s Option B, Facing Adversity, Building Resilience and Finding Joy. Having read Lean In, I thought, this could be just as good. Yes, of course I judge my books by its writers. I was right, the book came at the right moment and it has been giving me hope for a better tomorrow. I know, I cannot bring all of them back to life but I can live a life that exemplifies what they would have wanted for me. Today, whenever I get the news that someone has lost someone, I recall the relentless pain I went through and instead of texting Condolences with the praying hands emoji, I’m more thoughtful. A call helps and a hug depending your relationship with them.
“On your death bed, no one wishes they’d worked more. That’s the trite little phrase people tried out when they want to play hookie, or spend too much money when they go on vacation, or shame parents when they miss their kid’s soccer game for a board meeting. On your death bed, no one wishes they’d worked more. Tell that to the people who love their work. “
It’s not about whether you spend your life in a board room, your bedroom, or on a beach with a Mai Tai in Maui. When you look back on your life, the only thing that matters is… Did you spend it doing what you love? With the people you love? Were you happy? Did you make the most of this beautiful, terrifying, messed-up life? Did you let go of all the things that held you back? So you can hold on to what matters most? ~ Miranda Bailey, GREY’S ANATOMY
Typical Eva 