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Yes, today, we are talking about getting through this thing called life. Because, well, sometimes the elevator does bring someone down, and what are we supposed to do then? We can't go crazy without Prince.
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Dearly beloved -

Yes, today, we are talking about getting through this thing called life. Because, well, sometimes the elevator does bring someone down, and what are we supposed to do then? We can't go crazy without Prince.

I’ve actually been reading a lot about grief lately, not quite sure why. I listened to Anderson Cooper’s incredible podcast about dealing with the death of his mother, and also his brother and father. I’ve done other grief-adjacent things that I can’t recall now but I swear they were impactful. Even though I don’t identify as having a ton of grief in my life - the closest to me have been my grandparents, relatively late in their lives, and a very dear aunt who was way too young.  But death seems to be everywhere these days - even if it’s just another book by a doctor on how to avoid it (or how to look like death is further away).

And also, death seems to come for the people special to the people around me, and I find it odd that I can’t or won’t be able to know what they’re going through, or went through until I too suffer a similar loss. And even then. What I have learned from these people, though is that grief is unique, and totally unpredictable, and ultimately a bit harder than we often expect it to be.

That’s what’s funny to me about this one. This week, Grandpa Rocco died, at 92.  The last years didn’t seem easy, for him or anyone around him. He was ready-ish to go. I always felt that he was going through something really tough these last 5-ish years, because he’s been so unlike himself. So, like, as bananas as this sounds, I think I subconsciously pulled a Roman Roy and thought that I had “pre-grieved”. Ha! I surprise myself sometimes, and not always in the way I'd like.

I haven't pre-grieved. Maybe a little. But Rocco going is the end of an era - it's the end of my grandparents living across the street from my parents, walking in for coffee, and planning parties around their preferences. Considering I haven't lived at home since I was 17, I really didn't think this would affect me quite so much.

But maybe that's the thing about grief. It's unique, unpredictable, and just a little harder than we think.

Always, 

Lauren


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