I Know Grief - by Aderonke Lawal

Grief is a beautiful bastard. 😔I remember when we lost Dad. After the initial shock, the wailing, the fear, and all of that, from watching someone you had spent your entire life loving and looking up to be alive one minute and dead the next, right in your arms... I just kind of dried up.I had no tears left. At least not in that moment."Let's take him to the morgue."I didn't even recognize my own voice.I got up along with the men who had come to mourn with us. I had only one sentence on my lips:"Please be careful with my dad. Don't carry him anyhow. Don't hurt him."They looked at me with one kain ẹyẹ, but they listened.They carried him as if he were still alive, his arms draped over their shoulders, his legs firmly held together. He was then gently laid in his car, and I covered him, half expecting him to ask how I knew he needed that warmth in his usual manner. I sat beside him, held his hand, and let one of the men drive us to the morgue.When we got there, I didn't have to repeat myself. The men who had carried him to the car made sure the attendants followed their example.Bless their hearts.The documents were signed, and I bravely walked back to the car.But I hadn't accepted that that man was gone. Not in the least.So I didn't allow anyone to call him "the body" or "the corpse" around me."Heyyyy, that's my dad you're talking about. Properly address him the way you would have when he was home."I kept at it until my elder sister and my big brother came home. Then Bọ̀dá'mbọ́lá said, "I'd like to go see the corpse at the morgue."I said the same thing to him.His response didn't just break me; it taught me something."Well... I'm sorry. We process grief differently. You may still find it difficult to address him like he's dead or talk about him in the past tense, but this is how I process my grief. I guess we'll just have to allow each other to grieve the way we know best."And grieve we did. Collectively.Individually.All while respecting each other's preferences. It was after Dad was buried that reality dawned heavily on me that, he truly then belonged among the dead.Never to be called again.Never to be contacted again.Never to be seen again.Never to be sang with again.And man have I never wailed the way I did that day before and after. I tore my clothes, I rubbed my face with mud.It felt like every important part of me was buried with him.One thing I didn't do that day, and in days that followed was run from my grief. I mean, I wanted to, but it felt like an honor to let it do its work thoroughly if that's how I never lose the memories of the one man that meant the world to me.So I let it stay, not like I had a choice, but I did more than let it stay, I let it do it's work, I let it teach me.See, grief refines and redefines you.It shapes how you see life in the years to come.It changes your outlook.Very stubborn thing, I promise you. Because until you let it in.... until you allow it to tear you apart from the inside out and teach you what it came to teach, it's right there every day, and it isn't going anywhere.It tugs at you until you finally give in and let it do its work.You can't outsource it, even if you tried.And you won't be fine, too, in case you're waiting for some kind of comfort. It's not here.You won't be fine.It's the kind of pain that never truly goes away. We just learn to carry it better with time.Time doesn't heal grief.Gratitude helps.It does.It's hard to be grateful at first, but with time, you'll realize you still have so much to be grateful for.May you find peace and some comfort to hold on to.----Ayoka omo Akanmu Ife ati Imole

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