Wearing the Jacket of Grief in the New Year

A year and a half ago I lost my grandmother to old age and a snapped spine. Her death was not a surprise, but you know what I mean when I say, one is never quite ready. I was in class focusing on a drama therapy lesson-in-action when I was shown a message by the administrator. It had come from my mother or my partner, I don't even remember who. There it was and there I was - giddy with a grief that choked me right up to my eyes. One moment I was excusing myself, addressing my teacher and the next, my knees were giving way in a room looming like a bottomless galaxy.

Cut to now, when I can write about that day like it was just a mere scene, looping. Cut to the present, months later, when I have the ease of looking back at how I have healed. But that's the thing about grief. Stay with it, acknowledge it, allow it to air and it finds a way to tuck itself in. What also must be said is that grief isn't such a state of maturity when it is actually happening.

Last night, after a long time, I sat at dinner, all by myself. staring at the yellow light in the living space. In stillness, I was counting my days to celebrate Christmas in Goa and then meet a dear dear friend in Auroville. In stillness, it occurred to me, many others less fortunate than me might be battling grief at this time. This post is dedicated to them.

If you are reading this, and your heart is a puddle of sadness, breathe into it.

You and I, we know solutions don't come that easy.

I am not going to bother checking the internet for who it was that once said, grief is actually love with no place to go. (Or something to that effect, with all due respect to the one who so heartfully brought the truth home in words.)

And if grief is indeed love, it means you are capable of love and that is why you are also capable of grieving.

So grieve.

Remember that a hand on your heart might help. Or a pair of arms to hold you close. If not anybody else's, at least your own.

The easy way out might be to drown yourself in alcohol, food, sex and the list goes on. But wait.

Maybe you just need to feel it. While keeping the faith, that like the good days, the bad ones pass as well.

There's something kind in being able to rest. So rest the body that might be aching remembering a lover, a dead pet or even experiencing an unknown-unknowable sadness.

Dim the lights, order in, put some music, not to put off the sadness but to embrace it, like a welcome guest. Allow those spasms to drown the music. You wish someone said it's okay. It is okay. There, there, I said it.

Draw, paint, move, spend time in Nature. Allow the space to be with yourself. How you do it, is your way. Do what revives you. As you read this, you might not even have the energy to imagine what it is like to take a stroll in the winter sun. It is okay, you will get there.

Do something to show love to yourself, every day. A tiny thing to just tell the grief within that you care and that you won't run away. The grief is also you. I know how tough it is when the crumble is so real and present. Believe me, you've done well for yourself. It's just a little more and you can hang in there.

Sit down often. Simply to breathe and remind yourself that your breath is a gift. The rest of the world could be partying, you might as well stay in and do your thing.

As someone who has experienced intense grief, like so many of you, I now know that running away does not help. The travel, the friends, the fun, are all different manifestations to suppress the grief. They all have their place, but let them emerge.

If you're reading this, I will add just one more bit.

Feel what you've been wanting not to feel. And set yourself free.

(Art - Zdzislaw Beksinski)