Two Years Lost/Found

Two years ago my stepdad fucking died.  I say fucking died because it still feels unfair, unjust, just fucking wrong and I’m super mad about it.  Shortly after his death, I started pouring my grief out in words.  I had so many words for how deep and vast the grief of losing him was and still is.  For me, for my mom, for his kids, for my sisters, for my husband and kids, and just everyone who knew him, it was a tragedy.  He was deeply kind, endlessly generous, full of love for us in a way I’m not sure anyone else on the planet ever will be.  He held our family and made us whole. He was good people and I have missed him every day.

When he died, I opened my heart and poured out the pain of losing one of our people.  I shared it in the hopes that others might find solace in knowing they were not alone in the depths and vastness of their own grief. 

 

Before long, I was reprimanded.  My sharing had brought "worry and concern" because pain is sometimes too painful for people to see and I guess sharing it is too vulnerable and as it turns out people don’t like that.  I should have known.  I should have prepared for the backlash but I was grieving and doing what felt right and at the time I didn't understand that seeing the layers and breadth of someone's pain is awkward if feelings aren’t your thing.  

I was told I should be medicated and that I was a risk to myself and that I needed professional help (spoiler alert I was already in therapy) - and I get it - losing someone brings up BIG feelings that seem scary and unmanageable and risky BUT we are made for feelings.  Human beings are made for feeling ALL the feelings.  I believe feelings are our way to a better life, a better world.  

Gary was a magician at holding and making space for big feelings.  He held some really hard stuff with me after my cancer diagnosis.  He stepped into the dad role, with all my fucked up feelings about that, with ease.  He gave my kids a grandpa who was 100% on their side.  He gave my husband a father-in-law that accepted and love him wholeheartedly.  He made our lives better because he loved us and all of our diverse feelings, unconditionally.  

His absence, and then this reprimand, stole my words and it hurt my feelings.  I was trying to be seen and was told to sit down and be quiet and to sedate myself so people could stop worrying about me.  It's taken me the better part of two years to get back to the keyboard with any kind of confidence.  I now see that what I needed was a hug, an "I understand" and for someone to hold space for my big feelings.  What I needed was Gary but he had just fucking died.  

So I hid.  I shut up.  I quietly brooded about the audacity of someone to steal my words.  But I learned.  I learned how not to treat someone who is opening up and being vulnerable.  I learned how to hold space for the people I love when they are having the BIG feelings.  I learned, once again, who my people are and aren't.  I'm sure that this shuffling and letting go and making space and accepting what is happens several times in a wholehearted life.  It's uncomfortable but I'm getting used to it.

I woke up today, after almost two years of grieving, after two years of feeling silenced and thought ENOUGH.  The universe didn’t steal Gary, it GAVE him to us, and that person didn’t steal my words, I stole them from myself because I was afraid that how I really feel about losing him is wrong and guess what?  

The universe can totally suck but it’s not wrong even though I hate hate hate that he died, having him love us was a GIFT and double guess what?  

No feelings are wrong and sharing them is my choice.  They might be big and scary and terrible but I firmly believe that grief, when shared, is less heavy.  

So fuck that person and fuck me for taking anything they said to heart.  Losing Gary was a tragedy and the feelings and words that flowed from it didn’t need meds, they needed to flow out so everyone could feel less alone when their people die.  So I could feel less alone when my people die.  So we can all feel less alone period.  

All of this to say it's incredible we have survived 2 years without Gary and that most of it I survived without writing for the most part.  It's even more unbelievable that over a year of that was in a global pandemic but time marches on and we carry him with us.  

In our hearts.  

In our actions.  

In our daily kindnesses, he is there.  

He was there when we made masks.  

He was there when we made meals to exchange.  

He was there when I walked feeling lost in the forest day after day wondering how on earth we would get through this.  

He is there when I miss hugging people because he taught me how to hug.  

He is there when I exclaim "well don't you look beautiful!" or when I tell people how much I love them.  

I miss him in ways I haven't experienced with any other loss and because I'm still here I'm going to keep sharing it.

Sending one up for him today and every day 💕❤💕