The Five Stages

I've always held an appreciation for the five stages of grief: denial, bargaining, depression, anger, and acceptance. There seems to be a certain simple logic to it, a road map for managing the impossibility of dealing with loss. It gives easy answers to the most difficult of problems. Yet, as I navigate through (another) loss of (another) father, I kinda realize that it's bullshit. Yeah, I don't doubt those parts of the process, but I notice that they leave out numb, hysterical, and exhausted, all stages I've managed to hit early in. Because, you see, this...this is something I only get to see in pictures from now on:

Only in my memories, my dreams, my convoluted mind will I get to see Gracie and Pop reveling in the joy of their beautiful relationship. And that takes me a half-step beyond the stage of anger to outright pissed off. So in my bitter & immature knee-jerk reactions, I try to find the silver-lining which, thank God, actually shines pretty brightly right now. The most basic reminder to keep on keepin' on?

And it does. ("So it goes," right, Mr. Vonnegut?) I am one of the lucky ones. I have near-constant reminders that, though I've lost a lot, I still have so much. For starters, check out the lady bold enough to birth me with the child sprung (surgically & pre-planned...she was hearty, man!) from my loins:

These girls are where it's at...and they're both a part of me. Pretty sweet, right? And they're not the only amazing women in my life. I'm fortunate enough to have a BFF who knows that nothing will comfort me more than food (thanks, Katie!)...

...or booze & black humor (#squadgoals...my God, I feel ancient trying to use that phrase!...)...

And if neither of those prescriptions suffice? Good old-fashioned pampering should do the trick.

Dealing with an irreplaceable loss, a death, is so tough as a bystander because there is truly nothing you can do to make it better. Only time makes it manageable; nothing will ever make it easy. But the effort, good God, the genuine effort makes such a difference. So the drinks, the meals, the cards and flowers ( dropped off "anonymously" by current students!)...they mean everything.

Because when life seems hopeless, anything from anyone means everything. And I hope you all know how very much your gestures mean to me...because even in loss, so very many of you make me feel found.