Grief, I see you…

Grief wants to be in the spotlight. It wants to be seen. Acknowledged. Wanted. Respected. Maybe then it will be kind towards me.

“He should see a therapist,” said a 9 year old to me.

He was helping a character in my story find a resolution to his ‘conflict’.

“Why do you think he should go to a therapist?” I asked him gently.

“Clearly he is depressed and suicidal. If he doesn’t, he will kill himself!” pat came the reply.

“Really?” I clearly didn’t expect that, “Why would he do that?” I asked.

“There is no other way, that’s simple,” assured me the 9 year old.

I looked around in the room filled with 9-10 year olds. No one batted an eyelid. The answer was quietly validated by everyone.

“How many of you can speak to your parents about ANYTHING?” I asked, almost scared to know the answer.

The show of hands plunged me into a kind of grief that I haven’t been able to shake off.

Modern day grief comes from the varied sources. Sometimes it is attached to a loss that one has been living with. Like Diwali, when the dam broke and I cried inconsolably. Another day, when a tiny sweet bourbon biscuit filled my day with vacuum. From the news of someone else’s loss. Or an ordinary conversation with children during a storytelling session.

I wonder what happened to the great human resilience?

Why do some people grieve in isolation?

Why do some people carry it openly in the world?

I can feel Grief lingering and hovering around me. It has showed up on stage with every single time.

Distracting me.

Confusing me.

Spinning me.

Draining me.

Failing me.

It has shown up in my writing. I thought it wanted me to write about it. And so I re-read some of my essays. Grief has made several appearances. So what does it want from me now?

Maybe it wants me write about it. An entire piece dedicated to it. Grief wants to be in the spotlight. It wants to be seen. Acknowledged. Wanted. Respected.

Maybe then it will be kind towards me.

How can I tell Grief that I am more attentive towards it already?

How can I tell Grief that I see you - hear you - smell you - taste you - feel you all the time?

And now, not just in me - I see it in others who carry Grief.

Grief, I see you…

On some days, Grief is like a hanger. I see it hang silently and patiently in the closet. On days, it moves positions to hang on the handle of cupboard, waiting to be worn and carried around. I can see why. I see people make grief fashionable. When grief becomes fashionable, the mind wants to flaunt it. In parties, on social media, through casual and formal conversations - I see people talk about Grief. Sometimes truthfully. At other times, to desperately fit in.

On some days, Grief is like a shadow. It follows me like a steady companions changing shape and size through the day. Grief, on some days follows the sun, casting long shadows in the morning and evening. It disappears at noon briefly, choosing to stay close to me as I move with it. On other days, I see Grief waiting for me under the shade of tree. The shadow that beckons me to pause and rest from the glaring hot sun. In the shadow of Grief, I get to cool down, while the hustle of life waits for me outside the shade. It lingers impatiently, pacing the boundary of the shadow, luring me with the urgency of life, a task, an email or a meeting. Once the momentary pause under Grief’s shadow is over, I step out to return to life.

On some days, Grief is like a dragonfly. I see it fluttering playfully around me. I see it tease me with its hum & shuffle. It waits in the air, lingering over others, pulling me towards them. Almost like a child, I move swiftly ahead to catch it. It flitters away, ruffling towards someone else. Suddenly, I realise it’s telling me something. Grief is playing with everyone, or is waiting to reach someone.

On some days, I don’t see Grief. Instead, I meet its accomplice, it’s most steady companion in the world. It’s partner in crime. I meet ‘Suffering’ in people’s eyes, their voices, their bodies. I see it in their fake laughs. Their quiet nods. Their silent confessions. Their denials. I see Suffering, the accomplice to Grief ravaging lives, preparing them for scars, wounds & scabs that would give Grief a permanent place in their lives. Suffering is a master trickster. It tricks us into believing that one day, things would be better. That when Suffering ends, order would be restored. Lucky are those for who this is true. For many, suffering is momentary, but grief is eternal.

Grief is like a sponge. It draws other people’s grief & soaks it in. It likes being heavy, clunky, decadent. It wants company. It likes being sluggish, slow, melancholic. Grief likes to add weight & gravitas. Grief likes a regular touch-up. It wants to be constantly fed so it’s never famished or weak. It wants to stay at the top of your mind. It keeps its radar on, looking for its accomplices and companions in the world. Like a fast multiplying deceased cell, Grief attaches itself to a host and find a way to infect others. It latches itself to others pulling you to their stories like a moth to the candle.

I know this about Grief. I have tried to keep it locked in a corner. On most days, I attend to it patiently. I allow it to speak to me. I try to be attentive. I try not to compare.

“Their Grief is greater than mine.”

“My Grief is heavier to carry.”

“One day, Grief will get tired and be gone.”

“I need to get stronger that Grief.”

Suddenly, in my mind Grief transforms into a lavish bunglow, a prized possession.

Or a game and competition where the one with the deepest / greater / hurtful Grief takes the podium.

Or a child that needs attention now, but will diminish being the centre of my attention.

On some days, Grief is like a secret tattoo that is hidden in a tender, forbidden spot of the body. On other days, it reveals itself like a sore and painful boil on the face.

One some days, my Grief wants to take out the guns, knives & swords to inflict wounds on others. On other days, it wants to stand as a shield and protect everyone around it.

On some days, Grief announces its arrival. It tells you that it will come calling. Almost like a monthly cycle. Sometimes it pinches you when you watch a film or a show someone else would have loved. It comes in the middle of a bite of a dish someone else loved. It waits around the corner during a happy event - careful not to smudge the joyous frame. At other times, it rides in on other’s shoulders - with their loss, suffering and pain.

On some days Grief leaves me beaten black and blue. And yet, there are days it wraps me in a tender embrace. On all days, I am grateful to Grief. It is my companion, my parent, my child. This shape shifter of a being has a permanent place in my life. I want to tell Grief, you’re welcome. Really. I don’t want to get rid of you. I don’t want to run away from you. You can stay with me. I want to grow around you.

You remind me that I have lived, loved and lost.

You make me human. I would never wish you were gone.

____

Dear Reader,

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A special welcome to new readers and subscribers. It’s incredibly overwhelming to know I have readers who have chosen to read me.

As a writer, Grief is one of the recurring themes. I will understand if you choose to unsubscribe should you wish to protect yourself. As I build my writing muscle and heart, I know I will have a lot more to write about.

Thank you for reading. I would love to know you. If my words stir a story within you, I’d love to hear from you.