Good Fucking Grief
(FYI, I’m writing this in a library, so if you usually listen to my Malcast, you’ll hear an AI voice instead of mine. You’re welcome.)
It’s been slightly over a month since Mom died.
That sentence alone is an upside down cupcake.
Not because it’s a reality I’m struggling to face, but because what remains is how I’m facing it.
As someone who knew very early as a kiddo that I was me - queer, gender non-conforming (wow, I wish those words had existed back then, right??), the way I got through the days and nights was compartmentalizing all the feels. That vigilant habit has held strong and now as I grieve the loss of Mom, and that both my parents are now in another realm (holding martinis with an olive if they have anything to say about it) the compartmentalizing is, well, a cold brick of stupid.
So, my spouse, lucky gal, is receiving these sudden bursts of sobs in the middle of a mundane question, like, what do you want for dinner?
WAAAAAAAAH! Sob sob sob, blustering breath, sob, sob. I don’t, sob, sob, snort, know…
It feels like they seemingly come out of no where without a hint of, hey, you’re going to lose your shit in 3, 2, 1! But, I know it’s just how I’ve been wired by this fucked up colonized system. And I need to rewire the shit out of everything so I can live the life I want to. I know that exists inside me as well. I can feel it under my feet. Like firmly packed sand.
In between these moments, though, I let myself wander endlessly, stare out at the ocean, watch birds buzz happily around the sky and drink my favorite beverage, Matcha latte.
At the end of May, we will have to be out of her apartment. It has been a month-ish long slog of what should go where, on top of the emotional thick muck of her loss.
I’m hoping there will be a cloud of relief that will float out of my chest when we lock the door for the last time. That the to do list of death is shorter and the open expanse to grieve and remember her full life will be what remains. And that has no timeline. I was going to say deadline, but, well, she’s already dead.
For now, I have one more day to stare out at the ocean here in my happy place, Ptown. Then we venture back into the apartment and see what is left to decide where it will go. Even if it’s in a big truck that takes it somewhere out of our sight for good. Which can initiate some guilty sobs.
I’m so blessed and grateful to have a loving partner to support me in this emotional chaos, good friends who text with photos of cute dogs and heart emojis. Each day brings moments of feeling this, however it is, knowing that that’s what’s going to be healing.
These two episodes of the podcast Becoming The People with Prentis Hemphill have been a rich resource full of wisdom. I highly recommend this podcast in general, since this our f’d up American culture doesn’t exactly offer an open unjudgy field to engage with death, loss and grief. Or being a human being, for that matter.
Grief Is The Medicine with Malkia Device Cyril
Reverence for Death with death dula Alua Arthur
I also have been listening to Cat Burns’ new album, How To Be Human. It has a little bit of all the feels, exploring sadness, joy, love and sweet queer love. It’s lovely and fun and lifts my heart.
As we all contend with this truly on fire world right now, we all may be experiencing waves of the thick as shit feels. I hope we keep up the fight, take breaks with a matcha latte, yes please, or whatever brings you joy, respite, a pump of love in the soul.
I’ll do my best to show up as best I can in the coming weeks, and more intentionally as things move through me. For now, I will sob when I need to. Even if it’s in the middle of Commercial Street in Ptown. (Like I did last night. Fun!).
Thank you for being here, Humans. Now, it’s time to pet a dog.
Let's normalize sobbing at all times.
I have no words, but 💜💐🌈🐕🦺🐇🦋! And 🐕🐩🦮.