Year 1
It has been 365 days and I still can’t keep it together when certain songs come on while I’m driving. There have been a couple times during a solo drive when I’ve had to pull over and just let myself give in to it until I have enough composure to continue.
It’s worse if/when I’m on the subway and I have no way to shield other commuters from awkwardly watching me unravel into a messy pile of grief yarn. I usually try my best to face the window until I get to my stop. It doesn’t always work if I happen to lock eyes with someone in the reflection of the window.
Shortly after Rahviance passed away I wrote,
It feels weird to not have sobbed uncontrollably since it happened. I did so much more crying while she was still alive that most of what I’ve felt since January 31 is just numbness.
I know the early arrival of my grieving process is a means of self-preservation and protection, as if somehow getting ahead of it would make me miss her less when she eventually died.
In some weird way, the pre-grieving helped in the aftermath of Rahv’s death…marginally.
The last couple years of her life she wasn’t herself so I was already used to not having her around in the the purest form of Rahviance that I know and love.
I predicted that grief would emerge again after she passed while working on a creative project and I really want her feedback (yup!), on Thanksgiving when she and Sidik would usually come to our house (HARD yup!), when I got a tattoo for her (I cried during my appt so yup!), or when I’m scared to pursue something big and could really use her, “That’s not out of your reach” mindset (always!)
What I did not expect were the long drives to my parents’ each week that would include 5-10 minutes of crying every single time.
The difference between my anticipatory grief and my grief now, a year later, is the why. When she was still alive I was grieving the loss of her life and watching her disappear before my eyes. Today, my grief is far more tied to recalibrating each time something happens and I remember that she won’t be present for it.
This was a photo that Rahv took of herself on my Nikon. I had no idea until I looked through my camera that night.
Rahv -
This past year has been a bit of a doozy, and I absolutely would have wanted you around to talk me through some of it.
I got into grad school shortly after you died.
In May I had heart surgery and I know for a fact that if you were still alive (albeit full of cancer), you would have visited me during those six days when I was in the hospital.
Maybe you were there and I just didn’t see you.
I started at Hofstra in September for Creative Arts Therapy Counseling and my god, you’d fucking love it. We use so many mediums to navigate art directives and then analyze any patterns in our thoughts, feelings and behavior with what we put onto paper/canvas. You also would have hated one of the professors for her dubious statements about art therapy and cultural sensitivity. Your reaction would have been hilarious.
That is such a watered down summary of what life has been like for the past year, but that’s mostly because I have a favor to ask of you.
When you were with us for Thanksgiving two years ago, you’d probably remember that day as one of the first really bad falls my mom had out of absolutely nowhere.
Even though you were barely able to hobble around with stage IV cancer, you still managed to come over to me, ask me how I was doing with that first real display of degeneration, and gave me a hug.
Over the summer my mom’s condition got much worse. She was hospitalized with pneumonia which is typically the type of thing that kills people with CBD. She somehow managed to pull through. However, now she is bedridden with significant cognitive decline. She is not the Stella you’d remember.
Sometimes, she starts talking to me about me, as if I’m not actually there. I don’t take it personally, of course, but as the “kid” it’s a type of heartbreak that hits very different. Visiting her and helping my Dad now feels like I’m helping care for a ghost who spends about 80% of the day crying in depression or panic, 15% of the time sleeping and about 5% of the time with this general vibe of contempt.
At this point, she’s on hospice at home.
In her lucid moments she is very aware of how little control she has over anything that is happening to her, and this is where the favor comes in:
When she finally passes, would you meet her as she transitions?
I don’t even have a specific belief about what happens to us when we die, but whatever she’s imagining makes her panic a half dozen times a day. She always took a great deal of comfort in your presence and admired your stubborness unyielding determination to stay alive for as long as possible. I know she felt stronger when you were around, and I know it would make her transition easier if you were there.
I’ve been experiencing anticipatory grief with her as well. I know it’s coming. Her disease is so fucked; there’s no way of knowing if she will remain like this for another 2 months or 2 years. After 4-5 months of this I think my soul has just made peace with the fact that while a vessel is holding space for her on Earth, it’s not actually my mom who fills that space.
Anyway, tomorrow I will begrudgingly begin Year 2. I’ll continue to look for signs of you every day. I really wish you were here.
I love and miss you so, so much.
H