In the past two years and some change, I’ve often wondered how best to describe grief. Before my dad died - and before grief became my lifelong roommate - I always thought grief was a simple concoction of sadness, loneliness and heartache. Maybe with a touch of regret. Grief wasn’t necessarily three dimensional in my head. And it certainly wasn’t complicated.
Now in my grief era, I know that grief is more dynamic. It’s a prism. And it isn’t only an emotion. It is a full experience that takes a different shape every day, and sometimes every hour. But I do think I’ve landed on what grief feels like at its core. And I have felt it in moments of pure joy.
Because joy, happiness, celebration - these are all moments where my grief rings the loudest. Maybe more like screams into the void rather than rings even. I feel the absence of my dad the most when I have good news to share. When I am at my most elated and my most joyful, when I feel the deepest gratitude or the most loved, when I feel pride in something I have achieved - that is when the grief cuts the sharpest.
One word for this is bittersweet. And I do truly feel like that is an excellent way to describe grief. Joy isn’t purely joy anymore. A celebration isn’t only fun times, beautiful moments, and laughter filling the room. It is also the absence of the person who is not there to share with you.
A member of my grief support group put it this way - you’re always going to be 75% happy and then 25% sad. In a way, I feel that is the actual definition of grief. Nothing is ever the same anymore. Nothing is ever as simple or as pure anymore. There is always a tinge of pain. Maybe it’s more than a tinge. Either way it is still there.
I know, this is definitely a bit of a downer of a newsletter. But I wanted to share this because I think sometimes non-grievers around us can forget that grief has made our lives complex. It certainly does not mean we don’t feel joy when there are wonderful moments in our lives. If anything, I feel I hold on to the joy and the happiness even tighter. I feel it even brighter. Because I can feel the grief too. And I want to recognize that for you do, dear reader who is also grieving, that sometimes you will be 75% happy and 25% sad. And that isn’t bad! It just is.
This newsletter is coming out on Mother’s Day here in the U.S. and I know that it is a complicated and heavy day for some of us. Know that I am sending you extra big hugs today.
If you do need support today, I highly recommend this article from What’s Your Grief specifically for Mother’s Day Grief. If you are grieving the loss of a child, this article on grieving a child on Mother’s Day may also be helpful. And if you rather listen to a podcast episode for support, this episode on Mother’s Day and Father’s Day may be helpful.
All of these resources are from the Mother’s Day newsletter sent out by What’s Your Grief. I highly recommend signing up to get it straight to your inbox!
When I first saw the picture of the kittens-before reading the caption-I thought you put it in as an illustration of 75% happy/25% sad. The three kittens look like they have left a space for a missing fourth. Serendipity?