Upon the realization of how detached I had become, I took it upon myself to do some research. While I knew a wikiHow tutorial titled “How to Mourn (with pictures)” would not lift me out of this emotionless state, I was desperate. To my surprise, the first step was acknowledging your own unique experience with grief. As I continued to browse, I found many articles that I related to and made me feel less alone in what I was experiencing. I ultimately walked away feeling a little lighter, but the validation of my experience did not resolve it. The majority of people I was surrounded by had very little knowledge on the many shapes grief can take, as does the rest of our society. If support was out there, why had I never felt it until now? Real people wrote these articles, shared their testimonies, went through what I had, yet when I walked out into the world I felt alone.
It was no one’s fault, really. My isolation was a product of my own behavior as well as that of the ones around me. For me, it was much easier to hide my struggles than allow myself to be vulnerable and risk judgement. When friends and strangers alike asked me if I was okay, I found it easier to fake a smile than to be honest and reveal my inner turmoil. The way that I was experiencing grief, quietly and subtly, only made it easier to keep up the façade that I was fine. One day, feeling at fault for my isolation, I decided to change my narrative. A close friend and I were sitting on her couch, sharing pieces of our days and recent events in our life. When she asked me how I was doing, referring to losing my dad, I hesitated. I had to stop myself from spewing out my thoughtless answer of “fine.” I picked at my nails as I racked my brain for an “acceptable” response. One that was honest but didn’t make her uncomfortable. One that showed that I cared, but not that I was falling apart. But there is no perfect answer, there is only the truth.
“Honestly, I’m doing pretty shitty.” The words left my mouth with a sigh of relief, a weight lifted from my chest. I watched her expression change as she processed the response she had not anticipated. Wiping her sweaty palms on her jeans, I knew I had made her uncomfortable. She fumbled with a half-hearted response about how strong I was, which felt as meaningless to me as it did the first hundred times I had heard it. There was a disconnect between us that’s presence was just as strong even after I had done my part at attempting transparency. But as I said, it was really no one person’s fault, but the culture that has made avoidance the natural response to anything difficult.
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Our culture has been conditioned to avoid death and grief. We hope that if we don’t witness the pain of the grieving, that it simply doesn’t exist. We avoid the death we see around us hoping that if we don’t acknowledge it, it will somehow pass us and our loved ones by. However, I do not believe that this apathy is deliberate. Nothing within our society prepares us for how to deal with death and loss. We are raised to preserve our neat and predictable lives, with no instruction on how to handle something so abrupt and destructive. We act as though processing death is a carnal instinct, buried deep within each of us until the time comes to utilize it. It’s not. In reality, no one truly knows how to put the pieces back together again, but the unintentional isolation by the ones looked to for support only makes it all the more difficult.
Overall, death and grief are entirely universal. They do not discriminate based on gender, race, religion, status, or age. Everyone on this Earth will be affected by death both directly and indirectly, and the conversation on how to handle the inevitable is one that cannot be pushed aside any longer. Grief should no longer be labeled and limited to the experience of the majority, but have its complexity emphasized. Individuals like myself and Alison deserve to know that our emotions or lack thereof are normal and no less real than anyone else’s. The grieving should not feel the need to tip-toe around the subject of their pain but be able to share their experiences and receive understanding and support. By sharing our experiences, we can begin to reshape the ideas surrounding grief from shame and taboo to those of empathy, compassion, and patience.
I often think back to the night before my life changed forever, to the promises my mother made to me. That things would be okay, and she would be there for me, no matter what. While at the time I questioned her ability to make a statement so definitive, I have learned that its permanence is not of importance, but its willingness and generosity. Through my grief all I truly needed was someone to take me as I am, with no judgement, and simply be there. Her selfless attitude is the one our society should take towards grief, accepting the grieving no matter how messy it may be. With the ever-present uncertainty of life, the only constants are life and death. Death is a universal experience that should be a unifying force in our society, rather than an isolating one.
