I close my eyes and smell feet, and the overall smell of Asia (you know it if you’ve been here) swirling around the open air train. I feel the casual touch of teammates as they sleep next to me on this crowded bench seat, with the constant rocking of the train car lulling me like a rocking chair. Yet, the only thought I have is: I’m home. Which translates to: I’m safe. Nestled between legs and bodies I feel as if I am with my family, and I am. I feel held together. I let this transition from the physical to the emotional, as I need a sense of being held together when my heart is falling apart.
173 Days ago I received the news that my dad killed himself. I had never experienced grief like this before, and I really didn’t understand it until I experienced it myself. 173 days ago I thought that one day I would be free from this pain, but now I know I will always carry this with me.
In the book “Through the Eyes of a Lion” Levi Lusko compares grief to pregnancy except backwards. The most painful part of giving birth is when the baby is crowning, similarly the most painful part of grief is the beginning. Keep rewinding and you have contractions, these are the weeks and months that follow the initial blow of loss. There are moments of reprieve, but there are also sudden unexpected moments of immense pain and loss. Before labor a woman can experience many symptoms of pregnancy at any point during the 9 months; once again this is the same as grief. There will never be a point where I won’t experience “symptoms” of grief in this life.
The screeching of breaks against the train tracks call me back to the present. As I look around I am overwhelmed with gratitude for the 18 people I get to do life with this year. I am so thankful to have this community around me, helping me, and loving me through this time. Knowing I can’t be the easiest person to love, or live with the past 173 days, I am especially grateful that I am here with them. In the physical I’m wedged between Jonathan and Nettie, but really I feel like I’m wedged between acceptance and grace with the whole squad.
Even now as I look up with tears in my eyes, Ethan sees me and asks me if I’m okay. Such a small gesture, yet so meaningful. Immediately I feel seen and known.
This is what community does, they rally around, they cheer for your success, and they help you up when you’re down. There is peace in knowing that no matter what, they are for me, not against me.
