I lost both of my grandmothers within nine months of each other.
In being in the depths of despair from one grandmother’s death, while still hazy from the other’s, I’ve learned a few things over the past year about grieving.
Here they are.
I called one of my best friends from an Uber on the way home, and she asked, “How do you feel?” I said, “Free.”
You see, I didn’t feel restrained by him. But I didn’t feel like I could completely be myself with him.
“It kept me in his life, and I wanted to be in it even when drama unfolded. I consciously waited in the wings in the off-chance that he might pick me.”
As my boyfriend and I walked into the subway car, a seemingly homeless and unstable man began to immediately berate us…I’ve experienced judgement for simply being black while walking down the street or flamboyant looking while wearing glitter on my face. However, I never experienced such instant and explicit judgement, outrage and a sense of danger from just walking into a space.
“How many times do I have to tell you it is not “she!” You keep calling me “she!” You keep saying “she!” It is not “she!”
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Five years later, I think how awed, at points disappointed and overall proud a younger Jarryd would be of what’s transpired since then. If I could tell him what I know five years later, it would be…
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