Grief has been a constant whisper that has come over me since March. I feel it in my chest. My heart aches subtly with despair. There’s a weight on my shoulders that wasn’t there before.
Collectively and personally, we are all grieving in some manner. I know we are all craving the normal that is receding further away into the review mirror that is the past; slipping away from us. It’s hard to let go.
Almost 2 years ago to the day, I shared a piece about grief on my instagram page. Every once in a while I find myself rereading it — it has a comfort to it. I want to share it here, with you.
The way we say I miss you in French is by saying: “tu me manques.” Which actually translates more loosely into something along the lines of: “a part of me is missing when you’re gone.” I realized this phrase embodies grief quite accurately for me. It’s fitting and poetic, like most of the French language. Grief makes us feel like we’re not whole anymore, that part of us is no longer here, and we feel like there’s no way we’ll ever be whole again.
I don’t believe grief lessens with time; that we can get to a point of acceptance. It cycles through similar phases indefinitely — it has its own agenda. That’s why no matter how much time goes by, out of nowhere you are reminded of them, and the wave of grief hits you hard and knocks you off your feet. In essence, we simply learn to take the hits. We adapt basically. And we all have our own unique way of doing so.
I’ve seen so many butterflies this year. My grandmothers love butterflies. They used to tell me they are our guardian angels. When I have my moments, I let myself bask in the knowing that part of them are still here, watching over me.
The air we breathe today, that which keeps us alive is the same air that our ancestors inhaled. We are breathing the collective exhales of our ancestors. That helps me adapt to the grief too.
I believe our physical bodies have timelines. They are simply vessels the soul uses to navigate the physical realm. The subtle body, the energy body, the soul, it is much bigger and more powerful than physical reality. Just because we can’t see them, doesn’t meant we can’t feel them. Their souls surround us every moment. They are here, and they got us.
As we collectively grieve, so too we can collectively heal. Yet, as my favourite therapist says: “you can’t heal if you haven’t felt, haven’t let yourself be the hurt.”
2020 has been a year for the history books, no one can deny that. But it’s almost over. And if there’s one thing I’ve learnt is: through the suffering, resiliency is cultivated. Grief is part of the process and silver linings are to be uncovered and cherished.
How do you want to end 2020?
Sending heartfelt vibes to you all that are grieving with me. XOXO
PS: I’m Métis, which means I’m part French Canadian and part indigenous. French was my first language and I’m proud to be bilingual, indigenous and francophone. ✶