The first time I heard Adele’s heart wrenching “Someone Like You”, I bawled, blew my nose, wiped my tears and then put it on repeat and bawled again.
Adele had committed emotional plagiarism and had purposely stolen the story of my life and made a haunting ballad that only I should be singing. I was rolling in the deep with anger because everyone could see how transparent I was. My thinly veiled pain was now unintentionally exposed. I was naked, being whip lashed by the winds of a sordid reality. My veneer was shattered.
Recently while conversing with a friend, I told him the story of the unexpected death of my grandmother. The phone rang one August evening, my mother picked up the telephone as she always did and started crying. Something was definitely wrong. Her screams were now stifling the visibility of her tears. I knew without asking that my grandmother had died.
It didn’t register with me until a few days later.
As is customary for a Trinidadian Presbyterian wake, friends, family and well-wishers came by and expressed their deepest condolences. I robotically smiled and thanked everyone for coming.
Before that night’s service ended, my cousin started playing the piano, beautifully as she always did, everyone opened the hymn books and began singing the hymn“Where art thou?”
As I read the words, my vision became blurred. The tears I had suppressed so deeply were finally revealing themselves. I tried to stop it, desperately tried but I couldn’t. I just couldn’t.
A few seconds later my tears stained the book and irony of the words, “Where art thou?” I stood there alone, crying. I was drowning in my own tears, gasping to be free from this terrible pain because the person I had loved most was gone. Forever gone. My granny had left me.
I was broken.
The end of a relationship is often times like a horrible death. The pain is unbearable, the hurt palpable and the sadness so consuming it leaves you feeble, vulnerable and seemingly unrepairable. You are blinded by the different shades of grey that form the threads of your new reality.
It’s been almost five years since my grandmother died and I still miss her. I sometimes want to pick up of the telephone and dial her number but I remind myself no one will answer. It hurts, still stings but I have finally accepted that she is gone.
This morning I heard
my Adele’s “Someone Like You” yet again and it was the first time a wave of sadness didn’t sweep over me. As with my grandmother’s untimely death, it dawned on me that I had somehow come to terms with the truth and although it still hurts, I will be okay.
Jenson recommends: Death and loss can sometimes be very difficult to truly come to terms with, but remember, we will one day be okay. =)