I'm Grieving
endings bring out the ... best in me
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There may be spelling / grammar mistakes in my articles that make it through my editing, and that’s on purpose. I’m a recovering perfectionist (who was once VERY hard on himself) and one of the ways I’m learning to be compassionate on myself is by allowing mistakes to just … be.
Friends.
I’m grieving the end of Summer … and it’s only mid-July.
To be fair, though, in the South school starts way earlier than in the North. Growing up in NJ, we went back to school in September (after Labor Day), but in the South Jordan goes back to school early in August.
Sigh.
Anyways.
I do that a lot, you know? I start thinking about what it’s going to be like when things end (often times) long before they actually end.
The other day, for instance, I had myself deep down the hole of what life will be like when Jordan leaves home someday. Dana and I were talking about her eventually going to someone’s house for a sleepover (which I’m also NOT looking forward to!) and my mind started to imagine the day …
Jordan will be 18.
Done with high school.
Deciding what she wants to do with her life.
Maybe renting an apartment.
Maybe having a significant other and moving in with them.
… I imagined her playroom being empty, her bedroom being absent of her presence for days and weeks at a time.
And.
MAN.
I had myself all worked up.
Because although I want all of those things for her and want her to be happy and spreading her wings to fly … my daddy heart wants her to be close, forever. Yes, because I want to keep her safe, but also (maybe even more so) because she’s my best friend and I can’t imagine her not being here every day.
These feelings get stirred up in me a few times a year - usually when school is over in May, when the Summer comes to an end and school begins in early August, and when the holidays end.
And, honestly, those reels you see on Instagram don’t help - you know?
You’ve seen them, I’m sure, there’s sappy music playing with a mom/dad playing with their kids and it says something like …
“The dirty handprints on the wall won’t be there forever. You only get 2 summers with an infant, 3 with a toddler, 7 with a child, 6 with a teenager, and then they are gone and the house is quiet and clean … and you’ll miss the handprints.”
GOOD GOD. KEEP. SCROLLING.
Then I start thinking about the 2 summers when Jordan was an infant and the moments I was tired and weary or when she was a toddler and how she would ask me to play non-stop while I was trying to get some work done or how the last time she played in her sandbox a year ago my mind was distracted by worries and how this year we took the sandbox down and … she’ll never play in it again.
And how one day I’ll take her swingset down.
And one day she’ll need a bigger bed.
And one day she won’t want to play dolls with me anymore (or at all).
And one day …
… You get the picture.
I used to push these feelings away. I would be super hard on myself and tell myself to get it together, to snap out of it, to suck it up.
“Every kid grows up, yours will too. It’s not a big deal. Shed a few tears and move on.”
BUT.
These days I’m learning to be gentle with myself, I’m learning to let myself feel the pain of letting go. When my father passed away back in 2023 I realized that I had no idea how to grieve, that all my life the world around me told me to “move on from my grief and get on with my life”; but if there’s one thing my dad’s passing has taught me, it’s that although I will most certainly “move on with my life”, I will do so not by moving on FROM my grief, but moving on WITH my grief.
Why?
Because grief is not linear - right? It doesn’t begin and then end. It doesn’t have an off button, it doesn’t have a start date and end date so that all of it’s messiness is contained in between.
Instead.
It’s always with you - popping in without warning like an old friend who is so much like family that he/she has a key to your home and can drop by unannounced day or night.
Yes.
I’m learning to view grief like that old friend, like a friend who has permission to use the key to my heart and come out to visit whenever he needs to. And when he comes out to shed his tears and bear his soul, I’m learning to let him talk, to let him express what he’s feeling. I’m learning not to rush to judgment, not to shut him down, not to explain his feelings away with unhelpful platitudes. I’m learning not to rush him, not to roll my eyes at him, not to make him feel like he’s in the way of my productivity. I’m learning that his tenderness has much to teach me, his perspective contains a lifetime of wisdom, and his heart contains a soft, fierce energy that can change the world for generations to come.
And so today I feel sad.
This week I’ve felt sad.
I will reflect.
I will ponder.
I will be grateful.
I will realize that these feelings don’t represent the WORST of me, but the very BEST of me and my heart.
AND.
I will anticipate all that August will bring when Jordan begins school, all the Fall will bring as we get to Halloween and the holidays, all that 4th grade will hold, and all that these last precious weeks of Summer have waiting for us.
Much love, my friends.
Glenn || SUPPORT / ART STUDIO