The Topography of Grief
One of the fallouts of growing up is having to accept that life shall
inevitably throw us curveballs that go beyond the unexpected. It is having to
face the reality that we shall someday have to live without those we love,
simply because that’s the law of nature.
I have often felt that the most overused phrase is “Time heals all
wounds” or “It shall get better with time.” I disagree. Grief doesn’t diminish
with time. We just learn to fill our days with distractions and compartmentalize thoughts that hurt us the most, hoping that if we bury them deep enough under the million things on our to-do list, they will quietly lie
there. And they do. For several days, these feelings and thoughts lie low,
lulling us into a false sense of security. They allow us to believe we are
getting to the point where thinking about someone we have lost or remembering a
time that no longer exists shall not reduce us to a blubbering mess.
Until one day, they throw off the layers they are buried under and
remind us of our frailty. A song, a photograph, a road travelled in the past, a
stray comment, an occasion; the list of things that trigger open our memories
is endless. And when it hits, it does so with all the force of a tornado,
destroying our carefully constructed defenses and removing everything in its
path, until we are left facing the one thing we were protecting
ourselves from- Grief. In its purest, unadulterated form.
Grief demands attention. It stands before us, unapologetic and
unabashed, stark in its reminder of our losses. It insists on acknowledgment,
refusing to be buried under the myriad of defense mechanisms we learn over
time. We fear grief because it makes us vulnerable. Forgetting that as a
species we are vulnerable at all levels- emotionally, mentally, and physically. We
need to accept that some days are just going to be hard. It’s easier to give in
to the tidal wave of sorrow once in a while than to allow it to drown us
because we fight against it.
When a life that was lived with love and joy is lost, it should be
remembered. Sometimes with happiness, some days with nostalgia, and yes, some days in anguish. When Google Photos shows us memories of a time we cherished and
which no longer is possible, it’s okay to laugh through our tears. I have
always felt that the first year after a loss is the toughest. Each occasion reminds
us of an absence. And each reminder is a sucker punch straight to our heart. And
yet, we learn to be resilient, because that’s how life works. We fall and we
get up. We learn to put one step ahead of another. We learn to take one day at
a time. Kyunki, mere dost, aur koi option
bhi toh nai hai.
When I was giving my college interview for admission into English
Literature, my wise mom told me to read and recite these lines, which I later
learned clinched my admission. After four decades plus of life, I find they
hold most true to almost every one of us.
“We look before and after,
And pine for what is not:
Our sincerest laughter
With some pain is fraught;
Our sweetest songs are those that tell of saddest
thought.”
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