Loss is defined as the state or feeling of grief when deprived of someone or something of value. It’s a sensation that is difficult to describe. Why? Because loss is not something that two people feel in the same way. One person can react differently to different types of loss, so they might not even know how they are handling it. They might not even know which method is best for them. Unfortunately, loss is something we are all bound to feel.
Whether it’s the death of a friend, a family member, or a pet, or the end of a friendship or a relationship, there is no one way to handle loss. It is common, however, for us to pretend like we are okay. Speaking out of personal experience, I’ve noticed that upon first hearing the news, I need to be by myself. After a few hours, I’ll venture back out to my friends. Why? Because I need to be strong. I have a reputation to uphold. I’m the positive one. Letting them see me teary-eyed and out of it makes me feel like I am letting them down. However, when I am alone, I allow myself the right to grieve.
My college career quickly appeared to be haunted by loss. At the end of the first week of class my first semester, my mom informed my sister and me that our cat was put down. He made it to 19 years old, and at that point, he was already older than me. I cried, because he had been in my life since the day I was born. Two years later, I still expect to see him at the back door, waiting for one of us to let him in.
Winter semester of my junior year was terrible. My Opa had been in the hospital since the day after Christmas, his Alzheimer’s finally having gotten so bad that he did not recognize his wife anymore. I spent the following months waiting to get the news that he had died. The months that I had spent mentally preparing for the loss of a family member was no help to me when I received the news that a good friend of mine had been killed.
It wasn’t until 28 days later that my Opa died. Then shortly after midnight on the day after his funeral, my sister gave birth to my niece. It was bittersweet. Everyone was so thankful that she was finally here, but at the same time, we all wished she could have met my Opa.
He was a wonderful man, full of humor and stories of his past. He was full of sass, a trait that often brought my sister and me to tears of laughter while my mom and Oma could do nothing more than roll their eyes.
My Opa holding my sister, Ostsee, Germany. 1993.
It’s been almost seven months since he died. There are still so many things he’s going to miss. Mia’s first steps, the first college graduation in our family in generations, my wedding, and my mom’s 50th birthday next year. It’ll also be the first time for many things. It’ll be the first time my mom will celebrate her birthday without her dad. It’ll be the first time that my Oma will be by herself for her wedding anniversary and for Christmas.
Of course, it was hard for us to get to the point of acceptance that we are at today. The first month was terrible. My mom and her mom were inseparable for nearly the entire first month. When they weren’t together, they closed the distance with numerous phone calls a day.
But now we feel like we’ll be okay. We find support in one another, and we all know that we’ll see him again. He lived a full life. He got to travel the world. He helped raise 28 foster children. We tell stories about him and look at our family pictures. We think of what could have been, but mostly we try to focus on what was. He is and always will be loved. Although he may have forgotten us in his final days, we will never forget him.
