Some words on grief

 

i am riding the waves of grief these days.  the news of our neighbor and adopted grandpa’s health (cancer – terminal) has continued to rock our world inside these walls.  his house remains empty while he resides in a nearby rehabilitation (re-cooperating from surgery) facility for now.  and that emptiness is very palpable.  

and in some moments – absolutely unbearable.  and i mean unbearable.

our back yards join together – a hedge and makeshift fence separating his place and ours.  years ago we consciously created a large hole in between the shrubs in the center.  we called it the “grandpa don hole”.  he laughed and accepted the title and it’s stuck ever since.

it is the space where he has walked over to for years to greet us with his “hey neighbor” – “hey sweetheart” – “hey guy” – blue eyes always twinkling.  it is the space where countless tools have been passed and cookies shared (or whatever homemade goodie i shared).  it is also the place where our girl – who has known him since she was just 18 months – has called over to him to ask him a question or cry out joyfully “watch me do THIS!” (this being a cartwheel, somersault, acrobatic move on her swing or silly move in her pool).

this man has given us the most consistent, supportive sense of family we have known – and feeling we are losing that is just plain ‘ole grief.

it comes in waves.

sometimes it hits and exits the body as anger.  this can’t be.  this isn’t right. not him!  big f.u’s to this realm and those who create the toxic cocktails that create these horrid diseases.  they can suffer this shit they put in here – leave the innocent alone!

other times it hits and is experienced as deep, seemingly never-ending sadness.

however or whenever it hits though – it comes as a strong wave – quickly and without warning.

we visited him again earlier today.  he looks good considering – better than he did in our previous visit.  there were tears shed.  laughter.  i held his hand. i kissed his hand.  this cannot be happening, i thought.  i honestly have not had an experience like this in this incarnation cycle – not like this.  i continue to hold out for the cure (to be released – not discovered of course). he has time – 6 months more or less – according to the doctor.  (what the hell do they know?)

before we left i asked him if he could sing for me.  he has a beautiful voice. he and i have sang together, played music together countless times over the years – both of us on the guitar or me on the piano and he the guitar – but always – he would be the focal point with his singing.  i want to keep him focused on things he loves – music being one of them – so i was happy to see him show immediate interest as he searched for a song.  i suggested one. “beautiful brown eyes.”

he struggled with the words to the first stanza.  the chorus –  no problem. he then went on to sing “i’m movin’ on” – then as we were set to go he began singing “i can’t help – falling in love with you”.  i had forgotten earlier this summer he taught himself that piece – and i had then taught myself the song on the piano. we talked about getting together to play it – but that didn’t happen.  he wanted to focus on fixing a couple of health issues first. damn, you know?

so today though he sang it at the end of our visit.  i cried silently.  my mate turned away – weeping as well.  and our beautiful friend and adopted grandpa sang perfectly.  no voice cracking.  no tears.  just the sound of his beautiful, baritone voice.

as i told my daughter tonight – the one thing i truly cannot align with here – that is suffering.  death – especially due to disease – against the person’s wishes.  no lessons to be learned.

just experiences to be had around all of that heaviness – and the one word we use to describe our inner experience as we grasp and struggle to deal with it:  grief.

victoria