A Light in the Darkness
Hey Readers!
So, the sun finally came out in New England this week (YAY!). Gotta say, twelve days stuck in gray felt like an endless liminal space time loop. . .
Which brings me to this week’s topic: grief.
This stretch from February to March is hard for me. I lost two close family members (my aunt and my dad) between February 13—March 1—in different years, but not that far apart. My aunt passed away on February 13th and my father on March 1rst. Both were unexpected.
It’s always hard when someone we love passes. Empty air fills all the spaces where they used to be.
As a child, my home was bustling with life. There were seven people in my household, counting my grandparents. Today, only three of us are left.
My Aunt Sam and I grew up like sisters. She was fourteen years older than me and, for a big chunk of my life, the coolest person I ever met. I watched her grow from the spunky teen blasting Queen’s Another One Bites the Dust in her bedroom to the well-dressed secretary in her twenties that loved Randy Travis. Her smile could brighten any room, she called me kiddo, and always felt more like a sister than an aunt. She was an amazing artist. Her laugh was contagious. She passed away at just 48 years old—I miss her every single day.
My father was also unexpected. The last time I saw him, he buckled my son into his car seat, kissed him on the head and said, “Love you, Buddy.” He watched as I drove away and somehow, looking back, it’s like he knew. Except he couldn’t have. He died of a heart attack the next morning, while at work.
C.S. Lewis wrote in A Grief Observed, “No one ever told me that grief felt so like fear. I am not afraid, but the sensation is like being afraid. The same fluttering in the stomach, the same restlessness, the yawing. I keep on swallowing.”
When my Aunt Sam died, I worried she was cold when they buried her beneath the snowy ground. Can you imagine that? She was dead, and I worried she was cold in her casket. When my dad died, I felt like I was trapped in a box. I couldn’t move, I couldn’t breathe. It felt like the world had swallowed me whole.
Maybe this is why I wrote a Mystery Sci-Fi novel about a time traveling serial killer . . . the hero in the story, a fifteen-year-old girl, sets out to save the victims and stop the killer when she discovers not only that the killer is a time traveler, but so is she. Like the hero in my novel, I secretly long to save the ones I’ve lost. To solve the mysteries of their lives.
Grief is personal. That is why this week I don’t have any “top tips.” Just general thoughts.
Here they are:
1. Grief Sucks.
2. People say it gets better with time. To a point, that’s true. It gets easier to manage the everyday, eventually. But grief still sneaks up on you, like an unsuspecting crashing wave, knocking you off balance. Be patient with yourself. Let yourself cry. There is no timeline to grief.
3. Honoring their story helps. I am always telling my kids stories about loved ones gone . . . funny anecdotes, songs we used to listen to, memories we shared. Watching old home movies or looking at photos can help if you're up for it. It makes your loved one come alive again. They live in the stories and memories.
4. Doing something in their name also keeps their memory alive. For example, I named my publishing company, What’s Goin’ On?! SLN Publishing, LLC, after my dad. Every time I saw him, he’d say. “What’s goin’ on?!!” really loud. I mean, really loud. He was deaf in one ear from Vietnam, so he talked louder than he realized. Keep in mind he’d say this in places like during recitals for my kids when you are supposed to be QUIET. My dad was never much of a reader, but he was a charismatic storyteller. Naming my publishing company after him helps me keep his memory alive. It’s like he’s right here with me, cheering me on.
5. Grief is not easy, and you don’t have to go it alone. It’s really important to have someone you can talk to. Loved ones, friends. People that will get you out of bed and showered. If you don’t have anyone, find someone. A grief support group, a local church, a grief hotline, a therapist. . . having someone to talk to helps.
6. Journaling can help you heal. This is especially important when our loved one dies before we can work out our unfinished business with them. When they pass away during a time of relationship strain, it adds the extra layer to your pain. You’ve got to journal it. Pray about it. Write a letter to your loved one. Then burn it. Let it go.
7. Grief shouldn’t cause you to lose your faith. Whether you are religious or not, you shouldn’t let death of a loved one jade your view of life. We’ve each only got so much time on this earth. Your loved one does not want to see you squandering your time away. It’s important to stay strong.
CONCLUSION
The days after my Aunt Sam died, the song Here Comes the Sun by the Beatles kept playing in my head. I had no idea why. I couldn’t particularly remember if she liked that song. I didn’t have a memory tied to it. It felt strange, this spinning record, a happy beat that, for some reason, had wormed its way into my brain, playing on repeat.
When the sun returned to New England last week, I thought about that song again. I hummed the lyrics to myself. I remembered the way it had snuck into my brain those days after losing her.
I realized, perhaps, she was singing to me from somewhere out there, giving me hope.
Reminding me that no matter how long the darkness, the sun will always shine again.
Till Next time,
Sarah
AKA A Busy Lady
P.S. In case you are wondering . . . I recently changed my name on Substack to my pen name, Sarah Crowne. I’ll write more on why I chose a pen name in a future post. Stay tuned!
© 2024 WHATS GOIN’ ON?! SLN Publishing, LLC, ALL RIGHTS RESERVED
Loved this piece! I can agree with the points you made about what helps with grief! And mentioning your sci-fi writing has reminded me why I enjoy my own sci-fi stories as well.
I agree with everything you wrote. I miss Sam so much. Before my mother died, she ask me Please keep an eye on Sandy. So when Sam passed away I felt like I’d let mom down. But I knew deep down I hadn’t. We had a blizzard three days before she died, and she was out in the snow shoveling way too much and on the third day she was gone. I find myself preparing myself for the anniversary of her death Two or three weeks in advance. It was just so sad. She was a girl full of life and to be gone so quickly none of us could believe it. I love the song you shared about the sun. I remember when we were going to the hospital there was a break in the sky and told me how you knew at moment that she was gone and for us we knew she'd made it to heaven
Thank you so much for writing this
We love you Sam !! ♥️