The Cycles of Grief

Grief is a funny thing, except the feels you experience are the farthest from anything humorous.

In the next couple days, it will have been a whole year since a dear person to me left this world. Unexpectedly. Suddenly.

This wasn’t the first death I had experienced, but it was the first one that made me feel the full depth of emotion that comes with grief. The stages, the mechanisms of coping.

What’s more, life has a way of distracting us. We may welcome this as a way to delay the inevitable for some time, but distractions do not usually benefit us. Whether it’s work, a hobby, kids, or some kind of vice.. something will distract us. Being busy is both a blessing and a curse- it can keep you going or prolong the pain. Grief is not something you can ignore forever.

Grief is heavy

Last night I cried. I’m not ashamed of my tears and I recognize the power of a good cry. Much like the ocean, grief comes and goes in waves. Sometimes it feels lighter but overall, but inevitably, the ocean is still heavy. You may not notice the weight difference a single drop of water makes, but get enough together and you will be bogged down.

In my case, this grief has been paralyzing. As dumb or as crazy as it sounds, I’ve caught myself not breathing, much like I’m underwater and surfacing for air. On top of my own grief is the grief of those even closer to the dearly departed. People I cherish but can’t reach well. People who I’m incredibly close to but don’t know how to ease the load.

But I try my best.

Art as an outlet

In the past when someone I cherished passed, I was able to use drawing or painting as an outlet to fully rinse through my feelings and get to a place where I feel ok. It never goes away, but being able to paint or draw the people in a joyful moment of their life almost etches into my own visceral memory as a last key memory with them. Because despite them not being with me physically, I feel as if I get even closer to them and get to replay the memories I have with them in my mind as I create.

That being said. I could not do it this time. I kept trying and failing. Nothing was good enough.

When it came to the originals in the past, they were mostly for me. For my healing. For sharing with loved ones as well with the thought that they may enjoy seeing their loved one as art as well.

This time around is no different and yet it couldn’t be any more different.

The cycle continues

I’m trying my best. I was able to put to paper the feelings that I have had for a year and portray the person the best I can, doing what they loved most. Am I done? It’s so hard to tell.

Creating original art often feels like scratching an itch. You realize something is there and you hone in on that exact feeling and address it. With grief, it’s like you are aware of a constant itch but can’t feel it. Seems like it doesn’t make sense, but that’s grief!

I have some dormant ideas, echoes of the itch that I will one day address. But thanks to the artistic process, I’ve also been able to finally address and process my grief more fully.

Now that I think about it, I think withholding my breath was two things:

1. a mechanism of deep focus, but also

2. a form of control over my emotions, over my tears.

No longer. Just as I washed over my paper, I have let the full depth of my feelings surface and wash over me. All that’s left is to keep breathing.

The depth of feeling

Trick question! Or rather, I don’t think there’s a singular answer, even to a single person. But what I hope to convey through my art is exactly what I’ve expressed through this blog. Feelings.

I’m no robot, but a human full of mistakes and a spectrum of feelings. While some of my collections will be in monochrome in nature, I poured a ton of feeling into each piece I create. I hope this is evident in my work to people like you.

Perhaps you are grieving. Maybe it’s fresh or perhaps you’re in your 20th cycle. My own work scratches an itch in my brain, but my hope for you is that the emotion, the wash, the depth of my work resonates with you.

Perhaps there’s something you wish to see, something that would help you move forward with your grief.

I’d love to listen and be a part of your journey. Whether that’s with my art, or simply as another human being who just cares.