I Grieve Different

Mortality has been on my mind a lot lately. Next month, November will be the anniversary of my father’s passing. Last week, I also got a call from a very close friend of mine telling me that his mother had just passed away, 2 days before my birthday. A few days prior to that, my wife received the news that her father was unresponsive at the facility he was staying at unexpectedly. Not to mention, she had just returned two weeks prior from burying her father’s brother. Followed by a family friend that also passed away in the same week.  It’s been a really tough month. This past Saturday, we laid my wife’s father to rest, reluctantly at my former church, and on Sunday, my family celebrated my oldest daughter’s 19th birthday which made this weekend somewhat bittersweet.

On the morning of the funeral, I was extremely anxious and uneasy as I tried to mentally prepare myself to walk into a place that was so filled with emotional triggers. As I sat in the car with my children in the parking lot, I watched as nostalgic memories and former colleagues entered the building. A song by Kendrick Lamar from his recent album, Mr. Morale & The Big Steppers came to mind for some reason. The chorus goes, “I grieve different…” and at that moment those words resonated with me strongly. They gave me the much-needed strength to not only be there for my wife in one of life’s most devastating moments, but it was the gentle nudge that I needed to push me through the doors of my former place of worship. Almost a year to date, I walked through these same doors to say goodbye to my close friend who passed, and we both vowed to never come back yet there I was. In the days leading up to it, I thought to myself, why am I being brought back here again? It almost felt like it was for a specific purpose. I had no say in the matter. I almost knew that I HAD to come back this way again and to literally be forced by circumstance was probably the only way I would’ve done it. Matter of fact I know it. K-Dot’s song is titled, “United in Grief”, where he raps about how he identifies with certain instances and relates to specific people throughout the verses. Which in turn meant that ideally, we are all suffering in one way or another with the hopes of continuing life. And just like funerals, we are consequently brought together by our shared anguish, sadness, and suffering. But for me, a lot of times, things that I’ve heard throughout my years typically come to my remembrance when most needed, and this is what this song was. I’ve heard this statement several times in my life, especially at funerals, that some things have to die in order for other things to live. Or if I were to apply this to me personally, the attachment to an old church has to die if the gifts of a new season are to begin. It is kind of like a principle of life. It is unchangeable and undeniable. It is what it is. There are birthdays and funerals, and we are supposed to learn how to celebrate both. But in all sincerity, change is not fun at all. Change is a lot like death to a certain degree.And eventually, we ought to recognize it and understand it if we are ever going to experience growth. And not everyone is going to celebrate your growth, your transformation, your good news, and your higher vibrational journey. That is why you have to.

In the past two weeks, we’ve been celebrating the life of those who are still present, while also attempting to celebrate the life of those who are no longer here with us in the flesh. For me personally, this year has been a time of healing, prioritizing friendships, and optimistically positioning myself for my next phase of life – but as of recently, I’m learning that we can only control what we can control. And some things in life are beyond our control. I’ve realized that change won’t come from suppressing old feelings and ideas and stacking new opinions and beliefs on top of them like a Big Mac.We consequently have to denounce our previous concepts completely, to create space for the brand-new one to occupy. Essentially, at the end of the day, some part of us must die for a new part to live.

Ecclesiastes 3:1-8

3 There’s an opportune time to do things, a right time for everything on the earth:

2-8 A right time for birth and another for death,

A right time to plant and another to reap,

A right time to kill and another to heal,

A right time to destroy and another to construct,

A right time to cry and another to laugh,

A right time to lament and another to cheer,

A right time to make love and another to abstain,

A right time to embrace and another to part,

A right time to search and another to count your losses,

A right time to hold on and another to let go,

A right time to rip out and another to mend,

A right time to shut up and another to speak up,

A right time to love and another to hate,

A right time to wage war and another to make peace.

There’s a right time for everything right. Things change, and it was time for me to do the same. I had been selfishly holding on to “this” for quite some time. I hadn’t given myself the opportunity to grow from it, let alone learn from it. I wasn’t paying attention to the timing of everything, I was just caught up in my feelings. It was time for me to move on. Rather than grieving properly, I was acting just like those people that literally try to climb into the casket with a loved one not wanting to accept the inevitable. I had physically left the environment, but I was still there emotionally. And at that moment, I chose to let the funeral service not only serve as a memorial for my father-in-law but for me also. It was time for me not only to pay my last respects to the man but to the relationship with the place. So, as we got out of the car and made our way toward the entrance, I could feel myself being filled with an indescribable sense of peace. I walked in. I embraced people. I smiled hard. I was surrounded by loving family, and I held my wife’s hand tight as we said goodbye. As the welcome was being read, we sat there together “United in Grief” with friends, past and present, as we persevered through this season of life now giving me the understanding that first, it hurts, and then it changes you. I grieve different.

Every ending is an opportunity for a new beginning.