When my Nana died, I cried every week for almost 3 months.
I was heart broken and lost. This was not anything like people in shows when they lose a loved one. No TV show not movie (nor book for that matter) could describe my grief. And I didn’t even know I was grieving.
It was more like a numbing feeling in my stomach. A dumb throb in my heart and a slight swelling of my eyes because of my crying. Every morning I woke up and debated if it was worth it for me to put in my contacts, because I would end up crying them out later that day.
It was like nothing I had ever experienced before. Everything had reminded me of her. The songs we sang in church had a phrase or a word she would say all the time or the wind would feel like her hugging me or the sun would be as bright as her smile. Then the waterworks would come, only to stop once I had run out of tears.
Even the simple things were hard. Getting dressed in the morning would seem like a hassle, knowing I wouldn’t see her today. It wasn’t that I hadn’t seen her but maybe twice a year, but that I would never see her again on this earth.
It was like a constant numb. A constant pin pricking your heart and reminding you every few minutes. After a while I had gotten calast to it, but that didn’t mean I still didn’t feel her all the time. I don’t remember anything but crying every Sunday after church. First it was because I missed her. Second, it was because I was reminded that she was no longer here. Third, it was because I missed God and the happy life I seemed to lead before she died.
And then visiting my cousin was even worse. It was the first time I had been there without seeing my nana, or at least it seemed like that to my broken soul. I was blinking away tears that came anyways and trying to keep a happy expression plastered on at all times. I loved my cousin and her family, but they were already grieving enough to deal with my overwhelming burden.
And besides, none of them would understand.
But really it was me who didn’t understand.
It was during my cousin’s birthday party when I ran upstairs, tears forming in my eyes, after watching a video with Nana in it. I didn’t want anyone to see me, the strong older cousin crying. I had convinced myself that crying alone was better than crying with others. Yet when my aunt came upstairs and wrapped me in one of her priceless hugs, it dawned on me that company was so much better.
So trust me when I say that grieving is much more tolerable when you have others to grief with. No one should have to suffer alone.
“Bear one another’s burdens, and thereby fulfill the law of Christ.”