When Grief Reminds You

CW: dying family member, cancer, frank discussion of death and various emotions

Hello dear hearts

There is nothing quite like coming together with family members you don’t speak to often or see often, only to be reminded why you don’t speak or see them often. Or to be reminded which members of the family are more important, which family members are prioritized more, which family members are given more space.

And nothing like being reminded that this is small town Texas. Where gender roles are very specific, where queerness is ignored, where the guys stay with the guys and gals stay with the gals, and where I choose to flit between both and there is always a look of “why are you here and not there”?

And where Christian spiritual bypassing is rampant.

Photo by Sandy Millar on Unsplash

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On the one hand, praying and the belief of Heaven brings my aunt peace, they bring her comfort. I would never take away what brings a dying person peace and comfort.

I do draw the line at those still living trying to tell me not to cry and that she would see our grandmother soon and that we should be happy for her.

No.

I’m not happy that my aunt is not even 60 years old and will die soon.

I’m not happy that my uncle has only had one or two years of retirement and spent it all watching my aunt get sick and will be dying soon.

I’m not happy that cancer is the worst and my family doesn’t want to talk about the diagnosis but I need it for my family history so I can take care myself and talk to my doctor.

I’m not happy that my dad told one of my sisters she wasn’t going to be welcome if she tried to come into town to see our aunt.

I’m not happy that no one has sent any updates since I had to leave on Friday to stay with my sister.

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My grandmother and my aunt were the two people on my dad’s side of the family who did their best to keep our family together, to keep our family talking, to keep our family coming in for holidays every now and then.

Once my aunt is gone, I sincerely doubt anyone will do this. A huge rift happened shortly before my grandmother’s death, and then another rift when she died.

Part of me is deeply saddened by this. That I won’t have that connection to many on my dad’s side of the family. Part of me is relieved that I won’t have to sit amongst people who will say things that hurt me, will make fun of my beliefs or life, etc.

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I have realized that I am also grieving the loss of my dad’s side of the family, in general. Some of whom I had already lost contact with due to age gaps and just the long distance in general.

I’m grieving the loss of my papa because he is pushing most of us away, except his chosen few. And I don’t know that he will be receptive to anyone else anymore. If he will keep us all at arms length now and is just waiting until he dies too.

I’m grieving the continued distancing of my dad, as he lives his own life in London and doesn’t really talk to me anyways, or my sisters. Except my youngest because she’s still in high school.

I know that I still love them, they are a part of my life story in childhood, and they will always be important to me for those reasons. But I will continue to grieve that we all drifted apart and continue to drift apart.

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Grief is complicated.

Grief happens in cycles and it across a spectrum, and we don’t always grieve in the same cycle and same part of the spectrum as those around us.

I’m not entirely certain where mine is at the moment. Can grief be liminal? Is it possible to hover in between stages?

For now, I’m just going to keep drinking my coffee, reading my books, and watching my niblings/nieflings be silly and dramatic.

Until next time
-Ash