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On Grief

Survival Skill Number Three

By Claire GeeeePublished 3 years ago 2 min read
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The Story:

The Story:

I had a friend die the other day. I had another friend die back in the day and then another friend and then another friend and then another... Many, many, others. Dead. I have no idea why I am still alive. Well, actually, I have some idea why. Whether it is God, the Universe, the ocean, my cat, or my pet rock, somebody out there has a plan for me. Back to the story. I had these two friends, great friends. I had a feeling that we shared the same struggle. That is why I held so much love for them. I cannot explain it. Nobody can really explain it unless they have been through it. We all battle demons, however, there is a specific kind of pain that hovers in the realm of deep internal turmoil. I can speak to this pain. I have lived this precise pain. I have laid in hospital beds listening to the doctors tell my parents that they do not know if I will ever wake up. I remember not being able to move or open my eyes but still praying, praying hard, to anybody that would listen to me. Please, please let me wake up. Just wake up. I did. Every. Single. Time. The struggle. I cannot express the pain of lingering in limbo hoping I do not wake up but at the same exact time not wanting to inflict pain onto the ones I love so, so dearly. I want to try but it is so hard. So, so, hard. Back to my friends, I see you and I pray for you. I understand this pain and I love you for feeling it with me. I remember the first time I smoked the green, weird, weird, skunky smelly stuff (that is sometimes-most, MOST times-where it starts). I was sitting in the attic of some neighborhood friend’s house. We were listening to Bob Dylan, Subterranean Homesick Blues. Trying to remember all of the lyrics, which now, I absolutely still can do. These boys, these beautiful, beautiful boys were in the room at that moment (at least one them was there-they were always there-we were neighbors, buddy's, pals). The moment my head changed (pretty, pretty positive that it was the last pal to leave us). I remember these times. They were great times. I still miss them. All that I can do for these friends is share my story as it may relate to them and to you. I will do this persistently, yet gracefully in the best way that I know how. This should not be happening. Let me repeat myself, this should NOT be happening.

The Lesson:

Hold your friends close. Support them. Do not preach to them. Just do what you can at the time to keep them safe.

The Message:

The pain is real. It does not make anybody bad, or worthless, or lazy. Everybody, and I mean freaking everybody deserves a chance to live their best life. We do what we can. We cannot fix, manage, or control another human being’s behavior. We can only do our best to support them. We pray. We love. We support. If they do not make it we wish them peace and happiness on the other side. We heal. Together. As a community. As a group of friends who remember and appreciate the good days. The good old days. Appreciate every day. Thank you for reading. And so it is. Amen.

coping
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About the Creator

Claire Geeee

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