Grief

My friend died.

She wasn’t just a friend. A passing acquaintance borne out of circumstance or opportunity. She was a sustaining member of my life. A person who made me feel less alone, accepted, valued for who I was, encouraged, loved, supported. What do you do when someone like that leaves?

I find myself filled with distraction. I forget where I am, what I am doing, where I am going. All that exists within me is the gaping maw of sorrow. Just a leaching shadow of pain, threatening to consume it all.

I’m trying not to over-identify with the pain. I have a tendency to do that. Tack it onto the list of things that have happened in my life that haven’t worked out the way I wanted them too. Another failure. Another disappointment. Another spate of bad luck. Endless pain in a life cursed. I’m trying not to tell that story. It’s seductive. Beautiful even in a gothic, morbid way. But I’m trying not to frame it that way. Something devastating happened. Let it stand alone. Don’t amplify that pain by making it total. Don’t bring in more pain than is warranted.

I find myself hyper-criticizing the people in my life. Everything they do in my mind recently is not enough. They seem frail and laughable to me. I keep coming up with reasons to leave. I know this is not rooted in truth. Those obsessive thoughts were not there two weeks ago. I know its my brain trying to protect me. Get out of all the relationships that mean something to you so you don’t have to experience this again. This is intolerable, what happens if they die? Best to minimize and sabotage.

I’m not necessarily proud of this defense mechanism, only noting its existence.

Similar to this is an impulse to over-do the things in my life that are separate from her. She hated pop music, exercise, vegetables. She never talked about meditation or yoga. Lean into those activities. See how much of a person you are? How much more of a person you were than her friend? You contain multitudes.

Though when I hear showtunes, which I still love completely, or look at my substantial fantasy fiction collection or marvel at a witty turn of phrase, my heart turns into an empty hollow. So maybe some of the multitudes were and will always be hers.

The meditation has been extraordinarily helpful though. Sitting in silence with my breath, noting my thoughts as thoughts and then returning to my breath, has given me space and peace. I notice the sadness and come back. I notice the pain and come back. I notice the self-hatred and come back. I notice the joy and come back. I watch my frenetic mind and for once I don’t worry and fret over it. It just is. Nothing feels so hard after it. All of it feels manageable. I accept it all. The joy and the pain. Nothing lasts. Neither will this season of pain.

I loved her. I still love her. I will come out of this still loving. Still loving deeply and unreservedly flawed and interesting people. Even if their quirks and maladaptive coping mechanisms mean that their time here will be short. Who am I to demand more?

I am grateful for the time I was given with her. It was exceptional.