For me, it means the amount of times my eyes have been raw from crying and when asked if I’m okay, I haven’t shared it. I simply mumbled I’m fine, as my hands shake from trying to hold on to memories so desperately.
It means the days that I haven’t cried, but you have been on my mind, every day since you left.
It means the taste in my mouth when I feel the weight of the world pressing on my shoulders. When I remember you aren’t here, when you said you always would be. So many people have said the same. And they left too, or rather, this time, it was their choice.
It means my heart breaking in a room of laughter.
It’s the moments when people didn’t even want to ask me how I am because your death made them too uncomfortable. It’s the fact that your death makes people uncomfortable. It’s that I have to preface my emotions with gentle suggestions “they don’t know what its like”, “they haven’t lost someone before”, when someone responds insensitively.
It’s the fact that when I want to open up about grief, I pick the bits people will understand, and keep the things I’m truly struggling with too myself. My heart can’t handle another insensitive comment, or someone saying “I was only trying to help”.
It’s that I always have to think hard for everyone else, who is so careless with me.
It’s the constant thought of what I would get you for Christmas. It’s the lack of presence that I stumble upon when I wake up in the night after a nightmare.
Grieving in plain sight: the fact we will all grieve yet society is so uncomfortable by it, that the griever has to protect everyone else. Every day.
And it gets so exhausting.
What does grieving in plain sight mean for you? Let’s start a conversation. And maybe, a revolution.