In this month’s scripted episode, I take a dive into the topic of grief. I discuss new insights gained in the past year and look back on some different moments from the past. This was another pretty personal essay, and I thank you in advance for indulging me.
As always, here’s the essay if you’d like to read along:
Grief Re-Visited
By: Jeremy Jordan
Part 1 – Introduction
If you would just bear with me for a moment, I’d like to hit you with a tired cliché. Life is a roller coaster. It’s an old comparison that you’ve heard plenty of times in life, but how accurate! Some things, like this worn out phrase, stick around for good reason. Not so much like some horror franchises, however, that’s for another essay. As you know, what the coaster comparison is trying to say is, life has ups and downs. I’ve had many great highs in life and I’ve had plenty of lows. Moments that tested me and later made me better appreciate future highs. Extremely painful moments that I didn’t think at times would pass. Here’s a list of some of the most painful moments from my past:
Moment #1: The time in elementary school when I fell off my bike while riding on the street and bashed my face into the ground.
I’ve luckily never had the experience of breaking a bone in my life and that kinda shocks me. I could be a bit reckless as a youth. Hell, I could also be a bit reckless as a grown adult, especially when alcohol was involved. Though nothing ever broke, there were certainly various injuries, accidents, and nasty spills. Often times, those things went hand in hand and happened all at once. One of the worst incidents I can recall, was this bike fall. It was an average weekend in the suburbs. My best friend was playing outside, across the street with his brothers in the driveway. I was doing laps around the street in my super cool, Huffy bike. Like many of the kids in an 80’s coming of age film, my friends and I loved riding our bikes around town. I don’t know if I was distracted by the other kids outside or if I just made an error, but as I made my way past my friend’s house and over towards the mailboxes across from our house, I lost balance and slammed into the pavement. Before really realizing what had happened, I looked over to my friend and his brothers, blood streaming down from my shocked face. They suddenly mirrored my shock back as one of the brothers shouted, “Go! Go inside!” I stopped hesitating after that.
The aftermath? One knocked out tooth and some minor scrapes and bruises. Nothing horribly traumatic, but in that moment, lots of tears and pain.
Moment #2: My 1st Kidney Stone
It was sometime around 2012. I was deep into my hellish retail existence, wondering what I was doing with my life. The day started normal enough, however, near the end of my shift that day, I started feeling a pain in the area around my stomach that I’d never felt before. At first, I wrote it off as just something that I ate, or perhaps stress from all the chuckle-heads that I worked for, but as I went into the break room to sit down for a while, the pain started getting worse. I had to make a decision. Try to tough it out at work for the remainder of the day, or get out and figure out what the hell was going on? This was like the one hundred dollar question on Who Wants To Be a Millionaire; the answer was real easy, I was out of there. I had absolutely no intention of passing out on the sales floor; I would’ve preferred any place then there if I had to pass out. By the time I got to my car, the pain was getting unbearable. Lucky for me, there was a clinic across the street. Initially, I did feel like maybe I was being dramatic; should I really be here for this? As I said though, this was a feeling that I had never experienced before. I had to make sure my insides weren’t exploding or something like that. Long story short, I had a kidney stone. I’ve often read that it’s the male equivalent of giving birth. Obviously, I don’t know that feeling, but if it’s anything like the feeling of absolute hell for your insides at all times, no matter the position you are in, as if there’s a bunch of tiny demons or even Satan himself, prodding you repeatedly with tiny pitchforks over and over, then yeah, I’d say that’s pretty accurate.
Moment #3: My 2nd Kidney Stone
Roughly four years after my first stone experience, I had the honor of experiencing another. I was no longer working in retail hell, but there were still some aspects of my life that weren’t so great. The worst? I was a heavy drinker at the time. It was a beautiful summer in Wisconsin, and I was working four day work weeks; plenty of drinking opportunities. Why is that relevant to my second stone story? Well, if you’ve ever had one or read up on them, you’ll know that the best thing you can do to help with the passing process, is stay hydrated. That was hard enough to accomplish with the summer heat and physical activity through out the day. With the addition of alcohol, forget about it! A very tall order.
Much like the first one, I experienced the pain later in the day while at work. The pain was immediate and very familiar. This time, I didn’t really have to question what I was feeling, I was pretty damn sure it was another one of these calcified bastards. The timing was pretty awful. A truck had just arrived with a large shipment and I couldn’t help out. I was in too much damn pain. I was sure that people at first, probably thought I just really wanted to get out of unloading. It didn’t take long before I decided I needed to go and confirm my suspicions via the clinic. After some pain meds administered and a scan, sure enough; another stone. I was sent home and told to just wait until it passed. The first one passed the night of my initial pain, so I thought, no problem.
Days later, still no stone. Huh, that’s weird. I wasn’t feeling anymore pain, so maybe I just missed it. Admittedly, I wasn’t always so great about using the strainer they provided me. Yes, that’s right. You’re supposed to try and piss into a strainer and catch it if you can. What a fun game. I’m sorry, but there was no way I was going to bring that thing to work with me. At this point, you may be wondering what’s going on. You may be saying to yourself, “I didn’t sign up for this. I wanted an essay about examining grief, not a story about some guy refusing to pee into a strainer! You’re gross and you’ve wasted my time.” However, like many of the other times that I’ve veered off, I promise we will get to where we’re supposed to go. I guess I could try and speed up the car a little bit for you though.
Now, where the fuck was I? Oh right, those previously mentioned things. With those in mind, I figured I passed the stone and just didn’t realize somehow, so I went back to business as usual.
My timeline is a little out of wack, but I feel like it was a couple days later at this point and the pain came back. This time, when I went to the clinic, I nearly passed out in the waiting room. Upon evaluation and more pain meds, I was sent back home with different instructions this time. I was not to just wait, instead I was to see a specialist and would eventually come to find out I’d need surgery. I was relieved that I’d be put out for the whole thing, but not so much relieved to find out that a laser would be shooting into a place that I never thought lasers or any other kinds of rays belonged. It was a much better route than some of the alternative methods I heard though. Since that day, I have not had any others. I literally knock on wood as I write this, in hopes that this never happens again. If by some chance it does though, at least I’ll have more material for a future essay.
Moment #4: Break-Ups
No break up specifically, just the general pain of going through one. They’ve all been widely different through out my life, which makes sense considering it was always a different version of me. When I was younger, it was much more difficult to cope, there was a lot of emo music, and I probably said a lot of stupidly regrettable things. As I became more mature and went through this process, it was still painful, but I had more tools in my metaphorical toolbox of coping. There was almost always a common thread, however. That thread was time. The process of healing always takes time. That, and a excellent album by Beck called Sea Change. Seriously, check it out. It’s awesome. To this day, I will still through it on if I’m having a bad day. It’s odd because it’s a pretty sad ride and I’ve heard that you shouldn’t wallow on it while you’re down, but it’s a beautiful album that really seems to help.
These pains are all formative, little scars that I bear as I continue this journey through life, but none of this pain comes even close to that of losing somebody you love and experiencing the heavy grief that comes with it.
I spoke a little bit about this topic in my first essay, Grief, Sobriety, and Hope. I tried to paint a mental picture of what had happened during the biter winter months of 2020, and how major things in my life would never be the same as before. I feel as though there’s a lot more to tell, and new insight gained since. The story really begins back in November of 2018.
Part 2 – 2018
It was a pretty normal evening. I was sitting in the living room with a friend of mine and currently showing off the glory that was, Red Dead Redemption 2. It had just released a month prior, and I was psyched. In between marveling at what these developers had accomplished, we’d chat and share the occasional laugh. It was like we were right back in childhood again, sitting in the basement playroom, really enjoying the moment. Unfortunately though, moments are just that. They can pass quickly and be replaced.
That evening, no matter what we did or how much we tried to stay present, enjoying the company of one another, something else was coming. The tone shifting, moment stealing news arrived in the form of a phone call. I heard my mom answer the phone from the other room and thought nothing of it. Mostly likely a spam call. By this point in the life of our land line phone, spam calls seemed to be about 80% or more of the total calls received. I always rallied to just ditch the line, since we had these things called cell phones, but my folks just didn’t want to let it go. I guess it did bring a certain comfort having the same line for years, but I don’t know if that was even their reason for keeping it. I do know that my mother always liked to do bill paying via the home phone, due to a mistrust in cells and scammers. Also, any calls that had important info were directed to the home line.
I listened for a few seconds and immediately knew that this wasn’t what I thought. This was actually one of those rare important ones. Turned out that one of my Aunts was in the ICU, dealing with a list of heath issues. The news hit hard and was incredibly devastating, but was not completely out of nowhere.
In the months leading up to this call, an Aunt and Uncle of mine, were staying in an assisted living community. They both started to experience struggles around the same time. It was difficult to think about close relatives in this situation. These were the people who were always at big family parties, the people who surprised me with an Xbox when I was a kid, and the people who were always so warm and generous, with the best snack layouts whenever we would come over for a visit. How could this have happened? Where the hell did all the time go?
I’m not going to lie, each visit we’d make during their time in the assisted living community, was pretty uncomfortable for me. The walls and carpets were bland, even with the various attempts to spruce things up via wall art that one might find in a Goodwill. The overall vibes were pretty somber. They often got me into thinking about my own mortality and what awaits me in the future. Would I end up in a place like this eventually? Or perhaps not even a place this nice. Maybe a Fallout -like future in which everything has completely gone to ruin and we are using bottle caps as currency. I know what you’re probably thinking though. An uncomfortable experience for yourself? Imagine how they must’ve felt. I totally get that, but I also can not lie about my feelings. The visits were something that, of course, I’ll never regret.
The ride to the hospital that evening was quiet. We all went together, in the same vehicle. I felt weird about putting any music on, but my mom assured me that it’d be alright. I think it was a welcome distraction for everyone. Upon arriving, all seemed quiet and still. The stars were shining bright, and the night was very mild. It would’ve been real zen had it not been for, you know, the whole reason that brought us there. The walk to her room was long and silent.
When we finally made it in, I was immediately hit with a wave. I barely recognized her. This was my Aunt, but not. I remember thinking to myself in the moment, how shitty it was that people had to go out like this. After all that you put in and possibly gave to the world, this was your grand finale. Perhaps if I had a stronger belief in the after life, I wouldn’t have thought this, but even if I was one hundred percent sure that there was a heaven, doesn’t it still kind of feel like an unfair ending? Of course, the first thing usually instilled in us during grade school or earlier, is that life isn’t fair. That’s kinda the whole deal.
As I look back now though, maybe it wasn’t such an unfair end. Sure, the circumstances weren’t ideal, but she got to be surrounded by people who loved her and seemed to be made as comfortable as possible by the medical professionals. Also, she got to hear some beautiful memories retold and some equally beautiful goodbyes. That is, if she was able to hear them. I remember at one point hearing my mom mention to me that hearing is one of the last things to go. I really hope that was the case. It’s maybe not what one would picture as an ending, but there’s much worse send-offs then the kind words of family. Through out the visit, I was pretty wrecked, but so was everyone else, especially my mom. Knowing this, I tried my best to be strong and supportive. You may not have all the answers at some points in life and that’s okay. You don’t always have to have the answers, but you should always try to do the best you can.
The next day, she was gone. If there’s one positive that can be taken from an ordeal such as this, I’d say that, at least it seems to bring the family together. The day of the funeral, I got to see many relatives from all over. Some of these people, I hadn’t seen in years. It’s a shame that it mostly seems to be under these conditions for a reunion, but better than not at all. Some of my relatives were staying overnight at our house that evening. Much like when I was gaming with my friend less than a week earlier, I thought back to some warm moments from childhood.
Back in the day, when my distant relatives would come for the weekend, it felt like an event. I knew there was always going to be at least one trip to a restaurant, maybe more and it was just fun to have different people around. Young me liked to enter the room where everyone was sitting, and try my best to manically entertain them by either joking around or just saying various nonsense.
Sometime in the early evening, after dinner, we all sat in the living room. It was like the old days, but not. Though it was a very sad occasion, it was nice to sit together. I made sure to spend a lot of my evening with everyone and really take it in. Who knew how many of these get-together we would get?
Late in the evening when most of the guests went to bed, I took a visit to the hot tub. When I need to get in a better head space or reflect on some things, it’s my go-to spot. To me, very few things in life can trump laying back in a hot tub on a clear night and getting lost in the beauty of what’s above.
Upon settling in, I started to think about a lot of things. I felt a little bit of guilt. Did I visit enough? I should’ve called or sent some cards, damn it. I knew that spiraling in regret would probably just make things worse and there was no use beating myself up. Next, I just felt sad. I had experienced other losses before, which of course were sad, but this one seemed to hit me in a different way. I spent a lot of time with this person and she was always so nice to me. Maybe it was that. Or maybe it was just seeing my mom have to go through this while still dealing with an unfortunate mix of other shit.
I’m not a religious person, but I prayed that night in the hot tub. I guess it wasn’t so much of a pray er as it was me silently talking to my Aunt, wishing her well and hoping that she was happy, wherever she was. I don’t know what happens at the end. Some nights I think to myself, there just has to be something more. I’ve seen crazy coincidences in life, and not to be too sappy, but I’ve seen angels on Earth in the form of extremely kind and generous people. Other days though, I can feel a little differently. Maybe this was the ultimate prize the whole time and the whole point was just to be the best person you could be while alive.
Currently, I’m settled on thinking that we better make the most of things here, but not completely ready to say that it’s nothing at the end. I think that if anything, we’re just wonderful balls of energy that get distributed back into the universe again. We spread back out among the stars and some day another person sitting in a hot tub will look up and feel a connection and a comfort during a difficult time. If you believe something else, I totally respect that.
In the following weeks, I experienced a bit of grief in the form of general sadness during certain times of the day. It didn’t take long to pass, and soon it was back to quote, unquote, normal life. I took comfort in the fact that there were lots of great memories to look back on, and I knew she had lived a great life.
Months later, I would decide to quit nicotine. I never really thought about it until now, but this ordeal could have been one of the factors in getting the ball rolling. With all the contemplative moments that I had after my Aunt’s death, a shift was starting. Perhaps the beginnings of it were so subtle that I didn’t realize it right away.
If you read my other essay, you know what happens next. If you haven’t, well, spoilers ahead. I battled through the months and actually kicked my nasty nicotine habit while vastly improving other areas of my life. I was growing stronger and felt really good about the person I was becoming. Often times I felt euphoric, confident, and ready to take on the world. There were lots of great moments that year, but as we know, moments are moments and a storm was coming.
Part 3 – The Storm
It was early February and I found myself back in a familiar looking place. Bland carpets, bland walls with questionable artwork. I found the room that she was in and slowly entered. Fuck. I’m not ready for this.
Weeks prior to this, my mom was starting to have some struggles. She had to deal with a lot for quite a while and like a true warrior, always battled whatever was thrown at her. The difficulties increased rapidly and I knew what was coming. Even if you are the bravest of all the warriors in the village, when your time comes, that’s it.
In the beginning of that winter, I listened to a bunch of different TED Talks about grief. I guess it was my way of thinking that I could better prepare myself, but this wasn’t an exam. There was no amount of homework that was going to help. My other strategy was to drink large amounts of booze. Although I was totally free of nicotine, I hadn’t stopped drinking and it was starting to get a little crazy. It would be a little while longer before I did anything about that though. In the moment, I thought I was still doing alright. I knew that some nights could get out of control, but I gave myself a lot of passes because of what I was going through.
Back in the room, I slowly made my way over to a chair next to the bed and took a seat. There was a stillness, like that which was experienced at the hospital with my Aunt. With two words, I broke the silence. “Hi, Mom”. I didn’t know what else to say. There was tons on my mind and lots that I wanted to say, but I was frozen. I thought for a moment longer until a conversation with my mom about hearing popped into my head. It’s supposedly the last thing to go. Well, alright then. I grabbed my phone, opened up a music app, and preceded to play some Beatles songs. My mom was a big fan of the Beatles and they really grew on me later in life. We enjoyed listening to them together on various car rides. She loved the old fluffy stuff and wasn’t familiar with a lot of the older material. I had a great time introducing her to some stuff that I really enjoyed from them that she had never heard. I always considered those instances to be great bonding moments. I may not have been able to articulate everything that I was feeling right away, but I felt comfort in being able to enjoy some music together, again. Sometimes the right words aren’t there anyway, or even necessary.
There would only be a few more visits before I would receive the dreaded call, not unlike the call that happened that evening in 2018. I was just getting some gas and planning out the rest of my day when it happened. I was completely stunned. I knew it would eventually come, but it didn’t matter. No amount of Ted Talks or reading material, or anything else could have appropriately prepared me for this. The ride over was a bit of a blur. I was pretty scatter brained and frantic. I operated with what seemed like an entirely different part of my brain and was lucky to have made it without any traffic violations or worse.
In the coming days, we went through the routine that families go through when a tragic event such as this takes place. The planning, the closing of various accounts, and the tying of any other loose ends that still needed tying.
Throughout the process, I was always there physically, but mentally, it was a different tale. It’s kinda crazy how much there can be to do after a death. All you want to do is grieve and heal, not deal with the chaos that’s all around. The chaos seems to put the whole process on hold, delaying feelings that must be felt. Chaos sucks. Lucky for us humans, we have the strength inside of us to overcome and weather through any storm, even though it may not always seem like that.
The day of the funeral was when it really felt real. My brain settled on these facts as I sat upright in a cold church pew (what a bizarre word for a seat by the way). Much like the funeral for my Aunt, it was really nice to see some distant relatives again, but that didn’t change the fact that it was still a damn hard day that had no intention of lowering in difficulty level. On the way home from the funeral, I was rear ended and my car got completely totaled. It was hard to describe my feelings in that moment. I was already deeply saddened and in shock, so I guess it was just even more shock piled on with a dash of gratitude that nobody was seriously hurt.
I learned a cruel lesson about life that day: no matter how bad it’s going, there’s always room for more shit that life can throw your way. Don’t think you are in the clear just because one big, awful thing happened. There are no limits to the randomness of life. However, the good news is that while there’s no limit to bad things, this also applies to the good things too.
When I arrived back home via tow truck, I felt completely defeated. I had no plan and no ambition to act, even if I did have one. The only thing I could think to do in that moment was to retreat to my bedroom and just sleep it out. Shut out all the exterior problems of life, drift away, and just not exist for a while. I found no shame in doing so. It wasn’t an act of giving up so much as it was a re-calibration of a system that had been through the ringer. We aren’t always going to know exactly what the next move is and that’s alright. Sometimes it’s okay to just chill out and take a much needed break.
In the coming months, I would feel a wide range of things. Sometimes my grief manifested into just keeping busy and cleaning shit around the house. Other times, it was the more typical emotions that one may feel during this period. At certain milestones throughout the year, I’d receive a pamphlet in the mail from the hospice. It contained stories, tips, and detailed the stages of grief. I was already familiar with them, but a friendly reminder of what was potentially coming, was nice. In all the material I’ve ever read on the topic of grieving, they all mention that the order of the stages can change depending on the person and some may not experience certain stages at all. If I were to really look back, I could probably name an example in my process that could fall into each stage. For these examples, I’ll be using the classic five stage model.
Stage One – Denial: Often described as the feeling of shock and being overwhelmed. For me, it was the initial phone call, then later on, the car crash. I found that this stage didn’t last a whole heck of a long time for me.
Stage Two – Anger: At this very point in my life, I spend a lot of time trying to be a more zen person. I can recall times from the past where I had a pretty short fuse and probably said or did some regrettable things. When I started getting more active and quit nicotine back in 2019, I started getting a better handle on things and I never looked back. However, during this period, between having to deal with the loss, car insurance bullshit, and a few other things, yeah, I could definitely still get pretty angry.
Stage Three – Bargaining: To nobody in particular, for sure there was some bargaining going on. “If only I can just get some more time. I never got to say this thing yet. Let me have this and I’ll be a better person, I promise.” Most of these thoughts happened while staring into space in my hot tub, like that evening after my Aunt’s funeral. Floating, thinking about scenarios, wondering if things could’ve been any different, but ultimately knowing that, no, of course they couldn’t.
Stage Four – Depression: Depression? Hell yeah. I feel as though this one is probably very common for many people going through loss. I found that it struck often during holidays and other major events during the first year. Sometimes it just struck without any triggers that I was aware of. Supportive people, the kind words, and the gifts of flowers helped, but it didn’t always immediately cast out the darkness. Some days I really had to go to war with it and remind myself of a quote a heard from the past: Tough times don’t last, tough people do.
Stage Five – Acceptance: After a while, the stage of acceptance happens. Even though the pain and sadness are still present, I have accepted the reality of the situation. I know that the only thing I can do now is try and best honor the legacy of the woman who did more than could ever be expected for us. I can speak of all the wonderful memories and never stop reminding others and myself about how special she was. One of the Ted Talks that I recall listening to featured a woman who spoke about the term “moving on”. Though many times people meant well, they often told her to move on after dealing with the tragic passing of her husband. She was not a fan of this idea, and did not simply just want to just “move on”. She decided instead, to move forward and continue to tell her story. I found that to be a great way of looking at things. That’s going to be my plan too. I will do my best everyday and share my story, even if only one other person is listening. I will continue this rocky journey, content, knowing that even though it was short and often times really, really sad, it wouldn’t have been in vain.
Part 4 – A Letter To My Mom
When I was deep into my grief and having a hard time, I’d always be sure to try and write a journal entry. It didn’t always make me feel better, but it did help in allowing me to better express what I was going through in the moment. Also, it gave me things to look back and reflect upon. The painful moments are still a part of the journey and worthy of being in a notebook, no matter how biter. Some days, I would write a standard entry, addressing nobody in particular, just giving a brief rundown of the day and my thoughts. A couple times though, I did a little something different. Whether it was just to vary it up a bit, or based on something that I read somewhere that was rattling around in my brain, I wrote a letter to my Mom. I wrote about things I was feeling, things that I really wanted to say, and more. At the end of these writing sessions, I would feel a bit of relief. As you can clearly tell, I’m not a doctor or even sure if this is a normal thing to do, but it left me with a better feeling, and maybe it’s something that could work for you too. Obviously, my journals are for me and I have no intention of putting any of these entries or letters out there for public consumption. However, I think I’ve got one more letter in me, and this one is for everyone to see:
Dear Mom,
Hard to believe that it’s been just over two years now. The world is pretty nuts these days and I really miss your calming, guidance. Sometimes I’ll walk into a certain room and expect you to be there, then suddenly have to remind myself, oh yeah.
It’s a shitty realization, but I know that you aren’t gone, gone. You’re everywhere! When I am cruising down a country road on a beautiful sunny day, listening to the Beatles, there you are. When I overcome a difficult obstacle in life or am able to find the good in a tough situation or person, even when it seems impossible, there you are again.
I’m sad, but I’m also so completely grateful to my very core. It was one hell of a beautiful life that we got to spend together with so many wonder memories. Plus, I know you wouldn’t want me to wallow in it forever. My future is still bright and I know it’s not crazy to think that some of my best days can still be ahead of me.
Also, you’ll be happy to know that I’ve stopped drinking. I know that I probably had you worried sometimes. Admittedly, I had myself rather worried at times too. It wasn’t an easy thing to do, but damn it, I pulled it off. Sorry, I’ll try and work on the swearing a little bit next. I know you weren’t crazy about that. Anyway, I now feel like I can take on anything and I continue to chase every crazy dream from the past. It’s a really nice feeling and I couldn’t have done it without you.
That’s all for now. Thanks again, for everything. You were one of a kind. I’ll continue to try to be the best version of me everyday until we meet again, whether that be back in the wide open space above as wise, beautiful universal energy or in some other way. Rest easy.
Much love,
Jeremy
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