I’m obsessed with Grief
I ‘m not really obsessed… I don’t think?
Thanks for reading <3
A Song For The Road:
Everyone knows I love talking about my dead dad. Some people claim that I am obbsessed with sadness and they are a little bit right. I’ve always loved a tragedy.
This is far less a conscious choice and, I believe, far more a product of my life. My earliest memories are of the days surrounding the death of my Uncle Jarl, who had been living with us. He drowned in a lake Sept 1, 2001. I always confused the timeline and thought my uncle died in 9/11. Come to find out….
I remember everyone crying. I remember being in my Grandma’s living room watching the plane crash for a long time before any adults realized what was on the TV. Grandma Jane was always playing the news. I will never forget his hugs and the smell of kitchen grease, but the rest I know through stories.
Over the 27 years I have been alive, I have been to more funerals than I can count. Plenty were expected, people get old, and plenty were not, sickness and drugs are a bitch. But I think it’s only fair that I find comfort and familiarity in sadness and grief. I’m convinced that experiencing grief is half the point of living.
My Mom, Aunts, and Uncles - circa 1963
I want to be clear, I am certainly depressed about the state of the world, but not about death. “Living and Dying” are far too mysterious to be depressing.
I don’t want to sit and list all the dead people I know, but if you feel called, take a moment of silence and reflect a little love into the world for them. They are much closer than you think!!
If you ever want to talk, remember that I’m just a girl and we’re only human. Be kind.
