Community and grief

Whenever I have a challenge in my life, I try to lean into my DEI toolbox for the right tools to get me through.

 

The knowledge and skills that I try to share with others are also my go to in handling my own challenges. The past 2 weeks has been challenging - seven deaths, yes 7. One family, 2 parents of dear friends, one family friend and 3 Rotary friend family.

Enough already universe! I know many of you in our Rotary family are sharing some of this grief.

When we lose a family member it is understood that we mourn them. We need time to accept the emotions tied to that loss, including sadness, anger and yearning. Grief is an experience that society acknowledges we should allow ourselves to experience when we lose someone close. But what about the loss of a friend or even acquaintance? It seems that society passes by the allowance for a grieving process for unrelated people, but should we?

Community is said to be a feeling of fellowship with others as a result of sharing common attitudes, interests, and goals. A family is called a community because it plays a vital role in both individual and social life and plays a significant role in molding our attitudes, interests and goals. It is the first and most important community in human life, acting as a bridge between the individual and society. So based on this it seems logical to conclude that yes, we should allow ourselves the experience of grief when a member of our community passes away. So wether that community is your neighborhood, work, house of worship or a club, they ARE your community so grant yourself some grace and patience. Take time to feel the feels, gather for support, isolate for reflection, do what you need to do to process the loss. Grief may look or feel different for everyone, but it is equally valid no matter its form.

Here is a poem from a favorite author that might help you in your process.

Still
You are still everywhere
On the pillow case,

The ragged blue towel
in the closet,
and under my skin.
Our peaceful home still imitates your deep voice.
Sound waves from your soft words reverberate
from wall to wall,
from the kitchen to the den.
I still hear the silly songs we sang in the shower,
still feel the strength of your embrace.
The sounds of returning to your arms again, still haunting me.
The jokes you told still make me laugh;
they refused to leave my head.
Your scruffy stray still whimpers for belly rubs,
he whines from your side of the bed.
My skin still feels the only hands that knew its terrai,
their gentle grip,
playful squeezes
sensual caresses.
Your scent still lingers
in my thoughts and on my white blouse.
And I still smell what you left me:
the sweet fragrance of us.
Still feeling your heartbeat from the other side of the veil.
Still hearing your teardrops on the shores of heaven.
Still reaching inside my heart to soothe the loss of your beautiful body.
The people that loved you have all gone home
The hugs are done
the food has been eaten
and silence replaces the chatter of well wishes.
Piercing quiet has slowly returned
but I am not and will never be alone.

Robin R. Rabbi
“Still”
33 Shades of Death, 2024