“I’ve been grieving people who aren’t dead.”
A friend told me this, and it struck home with the intensity of an arrow to the gut. Living in a foreign country necessarily requires some level of grieving for one’s former life . . . let me rephrase, because that put it at a safe distance. Since moving here, I have been — consciously and unconsciously — grieving the life I had prior to coming here.
Its been like digging into a basement stuffed with, well, stuff. There is a single light, a bulb hanging from a long cord, which illuminates some areas well, but the corners are dim or completely hidden. In the center, right under the bulb are boxes of books, treasures that bring joy, and oh so many pieces of happy memorabilia. These are the pieces I’ve been sharing with new people on our journey to friendship. Some even make it into my physical space where every single private piece is a memento, oft touched and enjoyed. People who know me now see these items frequently as they are the touchstones by which we meet and connect.
A little off center are a stack of things that made me what I am today. The not-so-great, even downright crappy parts that some call character builders, and even I admit were valuable once past me, disappearing in the rearview mirror. Over the years they’ve taken on a gentle patina, a softness of sheen from handling. There are rough spots from damage taken when tossed across the room, before being retrieved and repaired. I know every item in this stack and have grown more comfortable with showing them to others over the years.
Off to one side is an old-fashioned tub, and this is where my ambiguous grief lives. The liquid is always just barely warm, a shock to my skin when my limbs slide in to the silvery liquid. It never drains, just absorbs my grief and anger, my confusion and sense of loss without providing any relief. It’s static, despite appearing as a liquid.
Climbing into this bath is not a rejuvenating experience; I feel no better afterwards, no sense of relief or movement forward. There is a lesson here that is not yet clear, I cannot learn it.
And thus move forward.