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Pandemic Journals
All Flowers In Time Bend Towards The Sun
Fumbling Towards a “Good” Grief
I am a hopelessly inept griever. I know it exists, I know I’m supposed to be experiencing it right now but I won’t make room for it other than to be annoyed by its inconvenience.
I’ve discovered that my family is terrible at grief as well. We go through it each on our own, none of us connecting with each other. We won’t even put a word to it.
I guess I don’t know how to grieve. I’ve had many opportunities but I still haven’t succeeded in having a “good” grief.
I sit with it. I wait for it. I struggle to summon emotions, inviting them forward. I wait some more. Nothing happens.
I don’t know how this works. 🤷♂️
It is solitary and private and there is a certain narcissism to grief that can be difficult to reconcile or, at the very least, escape from. One easily forgets that others grieve as well or, for that matter, that for many, life has already moved on. The pandemic amplifies this.
How many people are grieving on their own right now as a result of what this last year has brought down upon them? Upon us?
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