Good Grief

It’s been three months now since my cousin, Ben, passed away. There are still moments where I am caught off guard, as my mind wanders, and I realize I will never see him again. I think of his voice, his laugh, of some of my memories with him, and that makes me so unbelievably sad. But here’s the honest truth: Ben and I were never super close. We were closer when we were kids, but grew into very different people over the years. Blood and age were our common bond. I’m not going to pretend like we were best friends who always talked and had intertwined lives. In fact, we were the furthest thing from it. The last time I saw Ben was on Christmas. We barely had a conversation. The last interaction we had was when we were helping my grandma clean up and were putting away the rum that some of adults had added to their eggnog. He joked with his little sister that he had put some in her cup, and then I asked if he would put some in mine too. We laughed, and that was that. 

Ben’s death left us all grieving. I am devastated by the loss in our family and how there will always be a hole, an ache that nothing will fix.  I hate the sadness the people I love so much feel. I know things will never be the same and we will never "get over it". 

I think it’s a very human thing to wonder what would happen if you were to unexpectedly die. Would I leave my "mark"? Who would come to the funeral, who would send their condolences, who would still feel wrecked months after? 

I remember once telling my friend that I would be so mad if people who weren’t super close to me acted like they were so sad by my death.

But Ben’s death has left me with a heaping dose of perspective. 

Again I say, Ben and I were not that close. Yet here I am, months later, still talking about it, still saddened by it. I’ve realized now that it’s not necessarily how close you are to a person that determines how their passing affects you. Death leaves a very unique impression on everyone. 

Since January 19th, my priorities have been completely shuffled and realigned with my heart. I think about what's important to me, what I will make sacrifices for, and there is peace. My decisions carry more weight with them, as they aren't made lightly. There's more balance between putting others first, and self care. Far less explanation when saying no. 

For me, Ben's death hasn't been this big "live each day like it's your last" scenario. It's been loving others the best I can. Allowing myself to relentlessly feel my emotions. Relishing the normal moments. More giving. Growing faith

It's the good grief. 

There is no timeline to grief, no limitations, no explanations. You feel it how you feel it. And I hope as you feel it, there is grace, there is peace, and eventually through it all,  there is goodness. 

xo

Hannah

Perspective

I know for most people, hospitals aren't happy places. But in those hallways of heartbreak, there is also hope. In the waiting rooms of agony, there is answer. As much pain occurs amongst those walls, there is also peace. 

You know the phrase, "If you're going through hell, keep going"? Well I'm running, full throttle ahead.

The past three weeks have been a whirlwind. I have never been so completely out of control of my life. I have been thinking back to a month ago, when the semester was just starting. I had this gut feeling that it was going to be a great semester, that good things were going to happen. Classes seemed interesting, friends were great, it was all just steady and I was content. Then this crazy thing called life happened.

My cousin died, which has left with me grief to muddle through. Then my grandpa had some complications from a surgery which have drastically changed what the next few months of his life will look like. For a girl who's family is her rock of Gibraltar, I feel shaken, to say the least.

It's pretty crazy how quickly things can change. I've realized yet again how comfortable life can really be and how the normal is too easily taken for granted. Friday night before my grandpa got sick, I had started to write a blog post. Life felt like it was on an upswing and while my heart still mourned the loss of Ben, things were continuing on.

It's Friday night at 10:30, I'm in my pajamas sitting on my bed, my favorite Anthropologie candle is lit, I went to breakfast with friends this morning, I got to see Grammy and Poppop, Mackenzie and I saw "The Choice"  (10/10 would recommend), John Mayer is serenading me, it's the recipe for perfection. Today was a good day.

Ah, just a glimpse. Now is one of those times where life is best looked at day by day. Just like every other person in America, my life is crazy! What a novelty, I know, another person with a hectic life. My world has seemed to spin out of orbit and I'm just trying to find a new equilibrium. Every minute of every day has been utilized because it has to be. The emotions I had mastered suppressing are flowing out like a fountain. I have been forced to look at myself, my life, and how I perceive things and good gosh, it's exhausting!

Little did I know when I was writing this how even more out of orbit my world was about to spin. Last week, I cried more times and in more places (ex: walking to class). Sometimes, it just doesn't feel fair and there's no one to blame.

I think all these little tragedies paired with my incessant listening of "I Hope You Dance" by Lee Ann Womack (can I have an amen hallelujah for early 2000s music?) have left me with a heaping dose of perspective. I kick myself that crap has to happen for me to be more appreciative of my life, but alas it does.

As cheese ball as it is, I have realized I want to "dance" more. Because dancing isn't just taking opportunity, it's living with everything you got. For me, actual dancing is when I lose all inhibitions. I truly let go of any control I have managed and JUST GO. I went to a YL dance on Saturday and boy did I dance. I am insanely sore from it still (probably not a good sign lol) but the soreness brings back the memories of pure joy and reminds me how grateful I am for a body that can just go ballistic.

Hardship is necessary. We need to hurt and feel pain. It allows for us to be vulnerable and real with others. We are all in this together. There is a light at the end of the tunnel, I promise.

So with the sorrow, I will celebrate. I'm not done yet. There's many more holidays to be spent with my cousins playing dominos. I'll walk on the beach with my grandpa. I've got to finish Gilmore Girls! I will bask in the glory of more sunrises at Devils Head and more sunsets at Flagstaff. I've got to dance the nights away at my best friends weddings. My mom and I still have plenty of walks to take the dog on. I still need to live on the edge and get a Route 44 sized Sonic slush.  There is a future that will be lived and I'm not taking any moment for granted ever again.

xo
Hannah