Grieving

People always told me that grief comes in waves, but I guess I just didn’t expect a wave to be hitting me so late. At first, I fought every thought about their passing and pushed myself to stop thinking about it, almost reflexively reminding myself that they’re fine and in a better place.

So there’s no need to be sad?

I still remember Madada ( my grandma )’s passing so distinctly; the fear I felt, not knowing how to witness death for the first time.

The heart stopping, the doctors trying to prolong a life you’re not sure is supposed to be prolonged, having the most rapid, vivid flashbacks of the moments you shared with this person, not being able to imagine the world without them, trying to conceptualize the idea of permanent loss, and becoming intensely aware that your time with this person is so sharply finite and you have to say goodbye right now.

You don’t have a choice.

It’s happening.

And while you’re trying to understand all of it, your emotions don’t even know how to cope.

2:57 AM, and I watched her pass.

It’s really true that you don’t know what your last words are going to be to someone until you’re in the moment. Luckily Didi ( my sister ) and Bua (aunt ) picked up their phones, and the last things that filled my grandma’s senses on Earth were the touch of mine and my dad’s hands and the voices of her daughter and granddaughters.

Watching Dadaji ( my grandpa ) look at her body after was almost as hard as it was watching her pass.

It was the pain, shock, but predominantly the powerlessness that hit hard.

In the midst of trying to figure out how to handle any of this, I remember being alone in the room with her, minutes after she passed, and for some reason my biggest desire was to throw something.

I was pissed.

She wasn’t supposed to go.

She was so stressed the past few weeks, and I knew it. Why didn’t I do something about it? Why did Dadaji have to fall and cause this spiral of chaos, hospital stays, and stress? Why did she have to love him so damn much that she invested more of her energy than her age would healthily allow?

I watched him try to face the fact that the love of his life was gone, with no warning, while his brain had already declined so much.

I don’t even know what he was understanding or able to grasp; what could seep through the dementia and what mental blocks wouldn’t let him face the fact that his wife of 60+ years was gone.

6 hours later, and I was at a med school picnic, meeting my future classmates of 4 years– God, I have never felt such contrast before.

One of my favorite people died, but I was also starting the path to my dream career. And the worst part is that I’d always pictured starting that path with her by my side. She was always there when I pictured my first day.

Smiling. Giving me prasad (food) and blessings. Praying for me.

Every time I would get stressed about med school interviews or fret over waitlists, she would pray double for me. And she would always tell me it’ll work itself out. She was sure of it.

There were a few times during the semester when we learned about heart attacks or bone replacements and I swear no part of my conscious thinking did any work and yet my eyes were filled with tears. These triggers reached down so deep to these emotions and this loss that I didn't want to face and that I kept shoving further and further into a dark, crowded closet.

I think a huge part of that is fear.

I’ve never faced this kind of emotion before. How does one grieve? How does it get better if the only thing you feel like can make it better can’t happen – you can’t bring that person back. How do you express it? How do you explain it? How do you bring it up?

Do you bring it up?

It’s an isolating feeling.

I think I just SO didn't know how to even begin to understand anything I was feeling or how to process my feelings that I decided it was best to not feel them at all. I often struggle to feel my emotions unless I understand the reasons behind them.

But I think grief works in reverse.

You feel, and then you understand.

And I'm not even sure understanding afterwards is guaranteed; sometimes you just feel.

This has been one of the hardest things for me to unlearn. Letting myself feel with no end goal. No productive realizing. No getting it out of my system so I'm fine again, no trying to turn it into a positive that I can apply to the rest of my life.

Just to feel. And let whatever aspect of grief that hits, hit.

It’s a tough, demanding task for a society that prides itself on productivity and separating work from personal life. I almost felt ashamed to be tearing up at school in class.

Weak.

Like I should be able to take it. Everyone’s going through something so what reason do I have to let it take over me?

Amidst our toxic habits of comparing and competing, I think we’ve lost the ability to feel for ourselves.

I remember the day Dadaji died: I found out he died in the morning, then attended class for 4 hours, went to the open lab for extra practice, and studied for my exam that was 2 days later.

I didn’t create the room or space to grieve.

I shut it out. Shoved it in the back of the closet.

Again.

I had to perform. To be ok. Because how else would I get through it?

I thought getting through life/ continuing with my routine and grieving/ letting myself feel were mutually exclusive?

During his funeral weekend, I had 16 lectures to catch up on.

I cried, gave my speech, mourned during the day and, at night, stayed up in bed watching lectures next to my sleeping cousins.

At first, a part of me, looking back, was upset that I was able to act like that. Why didn’t I get that I needed to step back and let myself feel?

But now, after actually letting myself feel, and experiencing grief more, I get it; grief, even when you invite it in doesn’t really make much sense.

There’s no one way to do it. There’s not a way to predict when it’s going to hit.

I was only doing what I was used to. Leaning on tried and true coping mechanisms. Closing the door on emotions is never healthy, but somehow with sadness and anger, the consequences are more manageable.

Or perhaps they’re just more familiar.

***

Grief is strange. Something that’s hard to put into words even when you’re experiencing it.

It's the least understood human emotion. It’s hard to predict. Weird to conceptualize. Confusing to explain.

My initial instincts to be or make something productive with my feelings were proving worthless; it's strange, sort of unnatural, to try and use death or grief as motivation or to try and intellectualize it or to be positive about it.

There was this incessantly ongoing debate in my head between choosing to own the “it’s all going to be ok” attitude and admitting that sometimes it actually just, simply, no semicolon or but, sucks.

I guess this was also a reflection of how black and white I try to make my emotions.

Secondary to a logic addiction.

I kept trying to make sense of everything. But so much of this doesn't make sense i.e. the timing of my grieving, 4 months after they passed.

For some reason, for me, watching the sunset is my trigger. For 2 weeks straight, I grew used to seeing a blurry sunset every evening, tears in my eyes looking at the sky at 6 pm like clockwork.

Maybe it’s the grandeur of sunsets or the juxtaposition; it’s in the sky, the universe, infinite, things we don't understand or can’t grasp our heads around just like death. And then there’s this beautiful sense of comfort, vibrant colors, warmth, and a sense of calm – an end to the day.

I realized, when we can’t even fathom the things that have happened around us like losing your people right in front of your eyes, it’s somehow easier to accept that they’re gone and move on than it is to accept that they’re gone and accept that it sucks that they’re gone.

That you’re sad. That you’re struggling. That you miss them.

I had to learn to carve out time to let myself feel all of this. Med school, work, family time, socializing will all seem to get in the way, but I truly believe that the sooner you learn to sit with your emotions instead of fighting them or trying to back them with logic, the less overwhelming grief feels.

In fact, I’ve started to feel more and more connected to my grandparents once I started allowing myself to feel.

***

Grief, I have a feeling will remain somewhat of a mystery to us all; it’s hard to comprehend things that we can’t see. That’s why the thought of infinite space or the endless ocean makes me somewhat uncomfortable.

I guess, in this case, my emotions are trying to serve as an outlet to cope with things I can’t see; permanent loss.

As I delve more into my emotions and learn more about grief, I've realized that it’s ok for things to not make sense.

And there are some things that stay constant no matter what emotion I'm feeling; looking up at the sky reminds me of both of my grandparents and gives me a sense of comfort.

Amidst whatever new waves I feel, at whatever time, I have the sky to look up to.

To think of them, to feel them.