finding words where there aren’t any…

I don’t mourn well. I don’t know what to do with my hands. If I should say something or remain silent. If it’s okay to laugh at a joke. I don’t know what to do with myself amidst a heavy cloud of grief. Should I just let the tide wash over me and carry me away in a sea of my own tears or put my chin up and keep a stuff upper lip? Should I quietly contemplate the life which was lost? Gorge myself on food, drink, or sex? Take a dose of sleeping draft and let dreams overtake me? Share the grief, the loss, the mourning?

Kind words hold no comfort, not when they issue from my lips or fall on my ears.  It is grief, it can’t be patched by a word – whispered or otherwise. It must be felt. Incorporated into ones being. Balancing the hole left by knowing you’ll never see the rosy cheeks or hear the acid wit of a loved one again.

I don’t know how to grieve this loss, but I suppose resistance and confusion are part of my process.

About camikaos

As a lifelong writer Cami has always been inquisitive and curious. It’s a quality that has left her enamored with the ever-changing world of technology and the people who build it. That’s how she found herself smack in the middle of the Portland tech scene 10 years ago, first with blogs and then events and podcasting. While back in the day she focused on innovative podcasts such Strange Love Live and memePDX and events like 30 Hour Day, she now spends more time making order out of chaos in her life, parenting, work and from time to time camikaos.com. Having lived in Portland, Oregon for nearly 20 years, she can’t imagine making another city her home, or finding a place better suited for raising her daughter. Cami works at Automattic as a community organizer for the WordPress open source project, overseeing the WordCamp community conference program. She can be found, quite often, on Twitter as @camikaos.
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2 Responses to finding words where there aren’t any…

  1. I’m sorry for your loss. Mourning sucks, and no one is good at grief. How can they be, when the loss of one beloved person leaves a huge hole that can’t be filled?

    (I go the route of being fully functional, supporting everyone else — and then six months or eight months or a year later, completely and utterly losing my shit and doing all my mourning then. I don’t recommend it, but I’m good at denial.)

  2. Angel says:

    Big hugs to you Cami, I am sorry you’re sad.

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