Grief - A misunderstood lover.

The sorrow and pain of grief

She sits in the corner of the room. Unkempt hair, tears all over her face, she looks like a mess. She wears a red dress, which is now all old and crumpled, the strap carelessly falling off her shoulder. Her eyes sleepless, puffy and so full of pain. She shifts occasionally, but never goes away. Sometimes, she pulls her knees to her chest, arms wrapped tightly around them as she watches the room in silence. Other times, her legs stretch out before her, her head leaning against the cold wall. And then, there are moments when she curls into herself, turning away from the room, facing only the unyielding walls. But she is always sad, sobbing, and in a lot of pain.

You can tell she is beautiful though, even behind all that mess, and you can tell she has known love. Great, consuming love. But today, she is heartbroken and alone. No matter how many people are in the room, what they are doing, she sits by herself in her corner.

She looks up at me sometimes you know, with those watery eyes. Sometimes with curiosity, sometimes with concern and often just to see if I even notice her? I do. I am very very aware of her. But if I return her gaze, her pain starts to affect my soul. That pain is unbearable and I look away. I feel so sorry for her, I know she needs me. But most days I can’t muster the courage to acknowledge her, forget talking to her. On most days, I can’t allow her to express what she’s feeling. So she needs to sit and wait in silence, and she does. She suffers and she waits.

Today I take a deep breath and I walk up to her. She’s sitting, her arms wrapped around her knees and her head buried inside. I go sit next to her. I feel compassion, love and an overwhelming guilt. I am sorry to have ignored you for so long. I put my hand on her arm and I ask: Tell me, what do you want?

She lifts her eyes, I look into them and tears well up in my own. “I am sorry. I’m here now” She gives me the faintest smile. She puts her hand to my cheek, caresses it softly and says “I am glad you’re here, I’m glad you want to know”.

“I was born a few minutes after you were. When your dad saw you for the very first time and wrapped you in his arms. I grew with you, as a beaming thriving, part of your life. I danced in the rain of love you shared. And as your bond grew healthier, stronger, more beautiful each day, so did I. When you called him “Papa” for the first time and all of the billion times after, when you would climb in his lap at every little excuse because that’s the most comfortable seat in the world, when you would poke his tummy(“gubbara” you called it?), when you pulled his cheeks, when you would be distressed and he would do everything in his power to make you happy, when you took care of him and his well-being, when you told him how much you love him and respect him, each of those times you nourished my soul. Ah what a happy girl I was!”

I find myself faintly smiling as I intently keep listening to her. This glint in her eyes I never saw before! She lights up when talking about him, when talking about us. Grief knows so much, she remembers it all, like it was yesterday. She cares so much.

“I miss him too, you know. He was half of what I am made of. But you are the other half, and you have withdrawn too.”

I have no words. I look at her confused. “I don’t understand what you mean. I don’t know what to do, I can’t fix this. No one can. It is what it is.”

“I am so sorry, love. I feel so bad for you. Having known that love, that father, that man, and then losing him like that, in a blink of an eye. I am so so sorry for you. And no one can understand what you have lost better than I can.”

She is sorry for me? She? She is the one who needs help. I came to help her, I don’t need her to be sorry for me. I don’t say anything. I am feeling angry, exposed.

“I want to tell you, he is gone but I am here. I remember every little detail dear. Every cell of my body is made of your bond, your love. And I am not going to go anywhere. I am going to stay right here, by your side. You will always find me in the corner of every room.”

I am crying now, this pierced my heart. What is she saying? She is right! I have been so afraid to face her, I have wanted her gone. I have wanted her to leave me alone, but no, absolutely not, she can not. Not her as well. Not after everything she has told me. She is all I have remaining of Papa, of us.

“But you are miserable, Grief. You are in so much pain.. How will you ever survive like this?”

“With you my love. I will survive with your half of love now. You will derive his love from me, and pour your love for him into me. You now feed my soul and I feed yours.”

“But is that enough?”

“It’s more than enough. I have had a fortunate life, even better than yours in fact, Sorry to say!”

“Excuse me?”

“Well since all I lived was an unadulterated father-daughter love. It was pure, protected and perfect. Your life has seen other relationships, other emotions, other pains — but mine? It has been magical to say the least” she quips.

“Really? Grief? Now’s not the time to rub it in. And I already know that. It’s my dad”.

“Mine too. So as I was saying, I have enough fuel in me to feed your soul for a lifetime, only if you can keep me going as well. With your side of love”

I am stunned. I never thought of it this way. I wish I had come talked to her sooner, I wish I had lent her an ear. She loves me. She cares. She “gets” what I have lost, she is the only one in the whole wide world.

“How do I do that? How do I show my love to someone who’s not here?”

“Through me! I am the one that remains of him, remember? Come talk to me. We’ll remember his memories, laugh about the “barra”, eat peanuts, listen to his favorite songs, everything. If you feel like crying, we can cry together. Those are all expressions of your love, my dear. And they keep me going.”

“But that’s so hard. It rips my wounds open. It’s unbearable and it’s painful. I am scared I can’t take it”

“I know. And when you can’t, I’ll wait. I’ll wait till you are ready”

“Hmm”

“Every time you integrate his bond into your life, that also feeds my soul”

“What do you mean?”

“Just simple things. Every time you crack a joke, like your dad. That sense of humor is his legacy and that’s part of your bond. Every time you do things like him, or in memory of him, or using him as your guiding light, that makes the bond stronger, and makes me stronger”

“Wow. So even if he isn’t here, my bond can continue to grow stronger with him. The love can grow stronger.”

“Yes, each day. It’s already happening, look at me!”

And I scanned her face. I was lost in the conversation but now as I notice, her face looks brighter, she is not crying, she’s smiling. Her hair and dress and eyes are a mess still, but.. she’s better. She’s better than what she was. And you know what? So am I.

“I am sorry Grief, that it took so long. I should have tried talking to you sooner. Anyway, I have to go now. I will be back though, sooner this time, I promise.”

She smiled at me, touched my face again as I got up to leave. I saw her drift back to her thoughts, as she rested her head against the wall.

“And hey! Please stay. You know? In the corner of every room I go to.” I tell her as I look back one last time.

“Of course.” She smiles, as a tear rolls down the corner of her eye.