Second Blog
Firstly, great job everyone on round one of blogging, wow.
For the last 10 days, I’ve agonized over the subject of my second blog post. When I sat to write the first post, the idea came to me and soared from there. Yet the last 10 days I’ve been left with a multitude of ideas, none of which I have actually desired fleshing out.
Valorant Masters Bangkok Tournament Recap
The Pressure of Working Out Again Once You’ve Regressed
Savannah Travel Blog
Nathan’s 21st Birthday
The Engineering Behind the Velocicoaster
Various Songs and the Mental Images They Conjure
Rorschach Test w/ Shower Tiles
Settlers of Catan Game Breakdown
Like I said, none of those have compelled me to toil at my keyboard, so I think I may just use this post to express my feelings on a broad topic that I’ve experienced firsthand recently: Grief. This may become heavy and has a chance to ramble on like my first post; feel free to skip over this post at no offense to me.
Grief is typically discussed alongside its five stages: Denial, Anger, Bargaining, Depression, Acceptance. These cold, emotionless descriptors do a rather poor job of illustrating Grief in its totality.
Grief is the waves of the ocean. You lay on the sand, and it will wash over you. Then it’ll retreat back from whence it came, granting you short moments of relief during its consistent barrage. Eventually the tide will go out, but you’re not exactly sure when, and all you can do is wait.
Grief, despite this, is a beautiful thing. It brings people together for a moment of peace, everything else shelved. It forces you to look inward, grappling with emotions that have lain dormant. There will be days where it consumes you and days where you don’t even come face to face with it.
I have really only experienced, out of the aforementioned stages, sadness. When you’re grieving, every small thing is a reminder. Small references in conversation will send your mind in a flurry. Tiny memories pop back into your head any chance they get. The movies you watch and songs you listen to take on entirely new meaning. I even sought out movies that I thought would help bring catharsis, and holy shit did they (still haven’t logged it on Letterboxd). I scoured the internet for poems, finding two that resonated with me. I'll attach those at the end of this post. Writing the speech I had to say at the funeral was almost, ironically, the death of me.
Grief is universal. It can feel at times like you’re walking this treacherous path alone, but there are always others there experiencing that very Grief that you feel.
At my grandma’s funeral, a moment that really stuck with me was when one of her neighbors recognized me. I had never met her formally, but she said she had seen me from across the street taking my grandma’s trash out and took note of it. She gave me a hug, called me sweet, and I went on my way. I hope to never forget the feeling I had in that moment.
Grief
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It’s been five hours since I last typed a word on this. I ran out of steam and, quite frankly, anything else meaningful to say. Oh wait, I’ve got one more thing.
A few days ago she was in my dream. I got to talk to her and laugh with her; she scolded me for driving too fast; also, Skye from Valorant was there. I think that’s my favorite dream.
Here are the promised poems and a picture I took while stationed at my computer trying to write this.
“Poem” Langston Hughes, 1926:
I loved my friend.
He went away from me.
There’s nothing more to say.
The poem ends,
Soft as it began,—
I loved my friend.
“Immortality” by Clare Harner, 1934:
Do not stand
By my grave, and weep,
I am not there,
I do not sleep--
I am the thousand winds that blow,
I am the diamond glints in snow.
I am the sunlight on ripened grain,
I am the gentle, autumn rain.
As you awake with morning's hush,
I am the swift, up-flinging rush
Of quiet birds in circling flight.
I am the day transcending night.
Do not stand
By my grave, and cry--
I am not there,
I did not die.
