Grief in progress

Mama,

When I was five, you fell ill.
You got cancer.
When I was ten, I lost you to it.

For years, I believed I’d grieved well.
I cried, didn’t I?
We talked about you, didn’t we?

Over time, I went through intense periods of renewed grief.
However, I never realized how deeply losing you scarred me.
Until now.

Your illness and untimely death form the single most difficult experience of my life.
Everything in my life revolves around it.
Everything I believe about myself can be traced back to it.

What do I believe?
I’ll show you.

You abandoned me

You left me.
You abandoned me.

You left me when I was young.
I couldn’t take care of myself yet.

I was all alone

I felt lost.
I felt all alone.

I was all alone.
I was on my own.

I needed you

I needed you.
You abandoned me when I needed you.

I needed your warmth.
I needed your care.
I needed your love.
I needed you.

You shouldn’t have left me

How could you?
How could you leave me?

It’s not right.
It’s not fair.

You shouldn’t have left me.
You should never have left me.

I made you leave

But I made you leave, didn’t I?
I made you leave.
You left because of me.

It’s my fault

It’s my fault.
I must’ve made a mistake.
I must’ve made a huge mistake.

I’m not good enough

I’m not good enough, am I?
For why else would you leave me?
I’m not good enough.

I can never do it right

And I can’t do it right, can I?
I can’t do it right.
I can never do it right.

I have to fix this

I have to fix this.
I have to make it right.
I have to compensate for it.

I have to be perfect

I have to be kind.
I have to behave decently.
I have to give my best in school.
I have to get good grades.
I have to be perfect.

I can’t ever make a mistake again

I can’t ever make a mistake again.
I must never make a mistake again.
I will never make a mistake again.

I can’t ever be wrong again

I can’t be wrong.
I can’t ever be wrong again.
I will never be wrong again.

I can’t ever make it right again

But I can’t fix this, can I?

It doesn’t matter what grades I get, does it?
My straight A’s won’t change anything, will they?
Getting a PhD won’t help either, will it?

I won’t bring you back with it, will I?
I won’t get you back with it, will I?

I won’t get you back.
I’ll never get you back.

I can’t make it right.
I can’t ever make it right again.

I should’ve known better

I should’ve known better.

I’m angry with myself for not knowing better.
I’m angry with myself for making you leave.
I’m angry with myself for losing you.

I hate myself for making you leave.
I hate myself for losing you.
It’s the biggest mistake I’ve ever made.

I can’t do it right.
I’m not good enough.
I’m ashamed of myself.

I’m not worthy of love

I’m not worthy of love.
I’m not lovable.

I’m no good

I’m no good.

Darkness

There I was, in the darkest phase of my life since you died.
How did I end up there?
And how did I climb out of the darkness?
I’ll tell you.

Perspectives

I needed a decade to realize I felt abandoned by you.
Then, an avenue of healing opened up.

I started to notice how others experienced their loss.
I saw how they felt about themselves.

They didn’t feel abandoned.
They didn’t feel alone.

If others didn’t feel what I felt, I didn’t have to feel that way either, right?

I began to perceive your death differently.
I could better understand my behavior.

Still, I needed another decade to start overcoming my grief.

Stuck

I’d struggled to finish my PhD thesis.
My job was draining my energy.
Then, the polarization of the pandemic got the better of me.

I was stuck.
And I couldn’t take it anymore.

I decided to see a therapist and quit my job.

Needs

Before long, several needs surfaced.

I wanted to be heard.
I wanted to be seen.
I wanted to be taken seriously.

By others.

Did I take myself seriously?
No.

I’d ignored my needs for years.
I’d been suppressing my feelings much longer.

Anger

Then, anger came knocking at my door.

…

Spiritual bypassing

“She’s in a better place now.”
“She’s an angel now.”
“She’s watching over you.”

For a long time, these thoughts comforted me.
They might even contain a grain of truth.

I had to go beyond all stories about your death, though.
I used them to avoid my pain.

I needed to face my pain.
I needed to face my loss.

You’re gone.
You won’t come back.
You’ll never come back.

Magical thinking

I came to believe that I made you leave.
I became convinced I did something terribly wrong.

But did I really make you leave?
Could I’ve prevented you from falling ill?
Could I’ve prevented your death?

It was magical thinking.
I couldn’t have prevented you from falling ill.
I couldn’t have prevented your death.

Your illness is not my fault.
Your death is not my fault.

Bad luck

Your death has had a huge impact on me.
But it doesn’t need to have a meaning.

Your illness doesn’t have an ultimate explanation.
Your death doesn’t have an ultimate significance.
It was just bad luck.

Your death isn’t about me.
It was bad luck.

…

Sting

Over the years, my grief changed.
But it didn’t disappear.

Now, I’ve uncovered my beliefs about your death.
I challenged my narrative about it.
And I feel entirely different.

Your death has lost its sting.

I’m rising above myself.
Then, I see a box.

No matter where I thought you’d be, I’ve found you.
I’ve kept you in a box in my mind.

I open the box and let you out.
I let you go.

I set you free.
I set myself free.

I set myself free.