Page 135 of The Warmth of Our Closest Star

“Maybe I wanted to have kids and all of that because I didn’t understand what all a family can look like. We have a family. You and me. And…maybe my dream is different now? Maybe somewhere along the way, without even knowing it, I decided that I can’t dream the same dream forever. You know?”

Peter nodded slowly. And I’d run out of words. Maybe I still wanted to be a father. But was it the best dream for me? Was it the best next step for Peter and me?

“Then what’s your dream, Enzo?” Peter asked over the rain. “What do you want? You’ve got me. I’m along for the ride, babe.”

I stared at him.

“Do you want to expand our family? Or not?” he asked. “Is it something else? You know I’m here for you until the end, and I know you’re here for me until the end. So, all we have to do is decide what the end is going to be, right?”

“I suppose. Yes.”

“What do you want, Enzo?” he asked again. “Just tell me what you want.”

A Home

Present Day

Grief, by definition, is “deep sorrow, especially that caused by someone’s death.” That’s the dictionary definition. In psychology, grief is defined as “a powerful emotional and physical reaction to the loss of someone or something.” Psychology further goes on to explain grief as “characterized by deep feelings of sadness and sorrow, and often by a powerful yearning or longing to be with that person again.” Grief, therefore, is a logical response to trauma one experiences via loss. It’s a method to process those feelings associated with said trauma.

Almost everyone agrees that there are five basic stages of grief, as first described by Elizabeth Kübler-Ross. Denial, anger, bargaining, depression, and acceptance. When a person has their life—their whole world view—turned upside down by loss, the process to work through it is layered and, often, life-long. A person doesn’t want to believe what is happening in an effort to parcel out the grief so it is not overwhelming. Then they’re angry. Next, they try to barter with anyone—but most commonly God—to fix the loss. To reverse the irreversible. When that proves impossible, depression follows. Finally, and hopefully, they settle into acceptance and moving on with their life, leaving their grief behind, or at least, shoving it to the back of their mind.

I’ve found the definitions of grief to be adequate. The stages, and their definitions, however, do not resonate with me.

For me, grief has never been regimented, even if there are distinct ways to categorize the period of grief I have been going through at any given time. However, they are not linear; they are cyclic. Passing the anger stage doesn’t mean it won’t return. And anger doesn’t have to be the second stage, either. Grief is not structured; it cannot be confined to a definition or outline.

Because grief has triggers.

Birthdays. Christmas. Family occasions. Holiday times. Those are when people, supposedly, have their grief triggered in the strongest ways. Those are the times when grief—even if someone feels they have moved past it—returns. Because it’s cyclic.

However, this theory of grief triggers is predicated on a Western and Christian cultural ideal.

Grief is universal, but how it is felt, triggered, and dealt with, is not.

Ultimately, psychology and the dictionary cannot define grief for me. Because nothing that big can be explained simply with words. The theorized triggers are inadequate as well. Because there is really only one trigger for grief; for loss.

Life.

One doesn’t need to have a special occasion to grieve someone they’ve lost. They merely need to be alive…and remember that a person they love is not.

So, definitions are inadequate, but they are also unnecessarily complicated.

The side effect of living is, often, grief.

To grieve is to be human. To grieve is to be alive.

There is only one cure for grief. It’s not working one’s way through the posited five stages and coming out the other side with a fresh perspective. The cure is to live and to be grateful one is alive. However one can manage to do that. A person may spend their life dealing with grief because all of life is a trigger, and grief is cyclic. Each person figures that out in their own way because grief is not universally felt, triggered, or dealt with the same way.

Does grief ever go away? In my experience…no.

When does it get better? I’ll let you know.

When does it get easier? Every day.

That’s the thing about grief. It never gets better because better would be to have the person or thing back that you no longer have in your life. However, the skills one learns to deal with grief get honed when it returns on a random Tuesday while one is making a spreadsheet for work and they are eating a snack their deceased loved one enjoyed. Dealing with it gets easier each day. Each time grief is felt, each time a dark cloud of sadness forms above a person and rains down on their unsuspecting head, their umbrella gets bigger. Stronger.

Grief is a crack. A cavity. A place for the niggling, intrusive thoughts to invade and wiggle around. All anyone can do is evict the pest and temporarily patch the hole. But like any pest, grief will return, finding a flaw in the new construction.

I suppose, if grief is a side effect of life, then life is a side effect of grief, too. Because does one ever feel more alive than when they are grieving? What reminds one more that they are alive than when someone they love is not? And what better way to honor that loss than to make the most out of one’s life—to be grateful for it?