sometimes you have to let the people you love feel sad

I’ve no­ticed that peo­ple love to say “it’s okay to not be okay” un­til you’re griev­ing.

And then all of a sud­den, every­one wants to find a mir­a­cle cure for your sad­ness. Which kind of ends up mak­ing me feel like I shouldn’t still be sad, even though it’s only been one month.

There isn’t a med­ica­tion I can take, or a sup­port group I can go to that will mag­i­cal­ly make me stop be­ing sad.

When I signed up for a sup­port group, the leader of it sug­gest­ed I wait a few months be­cause it’s too soon.

I know peo­ple are just try­ing to be help­ful, but I’m pret­ty sure it’s nor­mal to feel sad af­ter a par­ent dies.

I’m not just mourn­ing for my mom, I’m mourn­ing for the life I had be­fore she got sick, and I’m mourn­ing the per­son I used to be be­fore April.

It’s hard to put into words what I’m try­ing to say, but when you’re griev­ing it’s al­most like you’re be­ing left be­hind, while every­one else moves on with their lives.

I feel like I can’t quite keep up with every­one, and I know they want me to be hap­py, so I feel like I have to fake it.

When in re­al­i­ty, I just want some­one to sit on the couch with me, and watch The So­pra­nos, and give me a cook­ie when I start cry­ing be­cause Jack­ie had the ex­act same di­ag­no­sis as my mom.

And I want­ed to watch a show about gang­sters, and now I’m watch­ing a show about can­cer.

Any­way, I guess what I’m try­ing to say is please just be pa­tient with your loved ones who are griev­ing.

It isn’t just a sad­ness you can cure by find­ing dis­trac­tions. I know we want to “fix” peo­ple when they aren’t okay, but some­times you can’t, and that’s okay.

Just hold their hand and be there for them.

I’m the type of per­son to be re­al­ly open about my anx­i­ety, so I guess I am also the type of per­son to be open about my grief.

 

—bri­au­na ru­pert

Flom­mist Bri­au­na Ru­pert is made up of 50% anx­i­ety, 50% Sal­sa Verde Dori­tos. She also does­n’t get mad, “I just make SIMS of my en­e­mies and lock them in the base­ment.” Copy­right © 2022 Bri­au­na Ru­pert. Pic­tured: Léon Spilli­aert, Dike at Night, Re­flect­ed Lights (cropped), 1908, swiped from.

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