I Swear You Will Be Fine

Grief changes people. I think we all know this by now – I am not just talking about becoming sad, or growing quiet. Grief doesn’t only make us sad and quiet, it also changes other aspects of our personality. Sometimes grief takes some of our nice traits away, makes us bitter and jealous. Sometimes grief takes some of our mean traits away, makes us more empathetic and kind. Maybe these new traits don’t stay with us for a long time, maybe they do. Maybe the traits we lost will also somehow find a way back to us, maybe they won’t. We’ll never quite know how long they’ll stay or be gone until our whole lives have been lived.

Grief has taken quite a few of my qualities – I won’t say these were solid traits that I always possessed, but grief definitely affected these aspects of my life. First, my social battery has depleted. I have always been introverted, Josh is actually the extroverted half of us, but now it is like I can’t interact with people for more than a couple of hours (most of the time, less than an hour) before getting tired. My social skills have taken a hit too. I used to be able to come up with casual conversational topics in an instant – Josh found this really fun. When we first started talking and would fall silent periodically, he would say, “Okay new topic, go go go” and I’d quickly think of one (Of course, after we started dating, he didn’t have to do that anymore because we wouldn’t stop talking). Now I find myself being the quieter one in the group, my mind wandering off to Josh or how miserable life is. I stand awkwardly and force a smile that doesn’t meet my eyes. Sometimes I want to scream: I used to be fun, I swear! I used to be able to make witty jokes and remarks, really! I used to be able to contribute the conversation!

It’s weird, how grief can take away and add the same trait. Grief has taken away my empathy. I no longer have a tolerance for people who behave unkindly. Josh’s departure has shown me people’s true colors. I used to rationalize and make excuses for people’s bad behaviors. I think “maybe they had a rough upbringing”, “maybe life is not working out for them, that’s why they act this way”. Now I think to myself: My life is not going the way I would like it to, why am I able to be kind but you aren’t? Life is already tough enough without unkind beings, I don’t see a reason to continue tolerating such unkindness when life has given me enough of that. Funnily enough, grief has taken away some of my empathy, but it has given me some too. I’ve realized that I have become more empathetic to those who are also struggling. I hear stories of people living tough lives, and I feel so much more for them than I did before. It’s almost like I am sorry they are also suffering, that they have also been condemned to a bad life. It’s almost like I now understand what it’s like to hate your life, the circumstances you can’t control. Josh used to joke that I have little empathy (we took multiple tests at school) and said that he’d teach me how to be more empathetic (he’d be the best person to learn from). I can see Josh smiling at me, happy to know that I have now grown a backbone and gained some form of empathy.

I used to be bubbly. Now, I realize that I squint my eyes a little too much when I laugh or smile – in an attempt to look happier. A feeble attempt to hide the sadness you can see in my eyes if you look hard enough. I used to take decent photos. Now, I try not to take photos with people because you can see my sadness in the pictures. But sometimes, it’s hard to avoid photos and not many people understand why I wouldn’t want to take one. So, I try. I try to smile but it comes off a little crooked, a little awkward. I try to squint my eyes a little more, but I don’t look the way I want to. I used to be hopeful. I was sitting at a table of four recently and I looked around, realizing I have nothing to lose. These three other people have families who need their presence, and I have nothing. And I will continue to have nothing. I am merely living until I die, waiting to die. What kind of a life is that?

Grief added and took away so many of my other traits too – my outlook on life, my motivation to achieve, will to live. Everything has changed. Life is no longer that deep, that meaningful. My motivation is no longer a happy and comfortable future; it is a tolerable future with everything we were supposed to achieve together. I think to myself: what is the point of all of this? What is the point of my academic achievements? I have got no one to celebrate anything with.

But I also think it’s not just grief that has changed me. Things have changed, I have changed, because I’m missing my other half. Josh and I would usually be with each other as much as we could – we sat together in class even before we were dating, we walked to train stations together, we’d arrive at events together… I was never alone, didn’t think I’d ever have to be alone again. I was never the quieter one in the group because I’d be busy talking to him, whispering jokes that only he would get, discussing topics only he would find interesting. We would be one of, if not, the loudest in the group. So maybe it’s not just grief that changes, it’s the absence of my other half. Maybe now I am quiet and tired because my best friend, my partner, is no longer physically here.

I miss Josh so, so much. But I also miss myself when he was here.

Oh Josh, time passes too slowly. Sometimes I still wish for a little miracle that would bring you back. I can’t wait to see you again. I love you more, always, and forever.

Love always,
Sha