When we’re taught about the five stages of grief, we are rarely told that they are not finite stages to get through.
My family recently lost our matriarch—my Grandmommy–and nothing has felt the same since.
Grandmommy and I were very close and shared many unforgettable memories together.
- When I was in middle school camp, she knew I dreamt of riding horses, and (despite her fear of them) she got on a horse as my chaperone so I could live out my dreams.
- When Grandmommy wanted to exercise, I’d roll out of bed almost as the sun was rising, and we went walking. I love those early Virginia mornings, when it was just the two of us and the chirping of early birds. The humidity was already rising with the sun and the heat, but we kept our stride.
- When I was in high school, I wanted a unique dress for prom. She took me to Joann’s and let me pick out the dress pattern and the material. She sewed my prom dress (and little did I know that the pattern I had picked out was very difficult)! It was a beautiful dress, and I’ll cherish it forever.
- When she was in an unsafe environment, I invited her to live with me, and she agreed. We spent lovely months together, and we loved being “roomies!”
Grandmommy and I were partners. She was a masterful woman with a creativity I inherited.
I miss her so much.
For me, grief is body-wracking sobs, silent streams of tears, and a semi-permanent existence on the sofa. At other times, I move through the world with a dull ache, as if a piece of me is weighed down. There are times when I go about life accepting that our matriarch—my Grandmommy—is gone. And, sometimes—most of the time—she still feels like she’s a phone call away. And, yes, I do get angry knowing that she was prepared to go, and yet, she didn’t prepare any of us who are left deeply feeling the intensity of her loss.
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As I move through the stages of grief, it often looks like the image above. I wanted to know why, so I did some research and came across SpeakingGrief.org. One thing that stuck with me is “grief is universal, yet individual.”
My experience finds me struggling to write poetry, but I’m reading a lot of it. I’m reading some of my favorite poets, whose words comfort me like a warm, weighted blanket: Sonia Sanchez, Gloria Anzaldúa, Nikki Giovanni. I’m reading poets local to my area: Jericho Brown and Ziyon Simmons. And, I’m discovering poets whose names I have known for years but never found the time to read: Ross Gay and Aimee Nezhukumatatil.
There are so many books of poetry and books by poets that I’m finding and picking up, that I need to build a bigger bookcase; it’s on the list of things to do this weekend, if I can find the energy.
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I believe that poetry can be healing, and in my recent podcast episode, I ask my listeners to send me the poems they go to when they are grieving.
I spoke on the podcast about the poem “Remember” by Christina Rossetti (though I might have misnamed it as “Remember Me”). I also spoke about “Creature of Darkness,” by Gloria Anzaldúa.
I encourage you to email me, as well! Send me your poems about grief, or those poets who you read in moments of loss. Send them to [email protected].