I'm going to come to this thread exclusively as a student, because it plays a big part in my novel which I'm unsure how to address.

*subscribes to topic*

eru

Personally, I'm very quiet when I'm sad so nobody knows, therefore, I almost seem unaffected by it when it comes to whether or not I still get things done. Of course, spiritually it weighs down on me, but there's always acting...

But I think everybody grieves differently, some people are rather obvious and you can just feel it when they are sad and other times you have to study them and piece the puzzle together bit by tiny bit.

Hmm. I have some trouble writing with grief, which is something of a paradox, since my MC really struggles with it. Personally, I've never grieved too much over anything, I've always assumed that God was in control and that He had a reason for whatever hurt me. Sometimes, I would simply feel detached, like it whatever was happening wasn't happening to me, if you know what I mean.

People appear to grieve differently, however, an unsaved person would probably be extremely shaken and hopeless. Observing other people and reading (mostly reading), I've seen people express their grief more deeply. If someone was really close to someone who died, they could be depressed or suicidal, or they could shove it away and try to deal with it themselves. In a divorce, someone would feel a deep, severing pain, like a betrayal, or like they failed somehow, or they weren't good enough.

I'll have to say, most of the grieving in my books is pure speculation. I imagine what I would feel if I was the character, and I'd write that. All things considered, I don't think my post helped the thread much, but I'm looking forward to seeing what everyone else thinks!

Oh my. Unfortunately, I've experienced grief on many levels.

How, in your experience, would a person mourn for a loved one? A divorce? A dead dream? You know, I'm not even sure how to answer this one...I hadn't experienced the death of a loved one I was close too until my great-grandma (whom we stayed with for most of my weekends during my childhood) passed away this past February. We were with her the day before she died, and in the hospital while she passed away. Most of the tears I cried were spent the night before she died as she swung between life and death. More tears came when she finally passed on. I only teared up at the funeral a few days later. It was like my eyes dried up and for once I wasn't able to cry. *is a crybaby naturally* To be completely honest, her death hasn't sunk in yet. I haven't visited her grave yet, which may assist in the "sinking in" feeling, but I'm somewhat wary to face that truth. ><

How have you mourned for something dear to you?
Well, I've been in one relationship before. I asked the guy out and 4 months later he dumped me. (Both of us were immature.) I took it quite hard.

I am in the process of recovering from heartbreak again. I was not in a relationship, but we had talked many times of dating.

(Feel free to PM for more detail or advice. I'd be happy to assist. I do it often. Assisting, that is.)

How long did it take before you could interact and perform normally again?After Grandma Evie, it took me a couple weeks. After Guy#1*, (my first boyfriend) it took me about 5-6 months. With Guy#2*. (recent guy friend), I've been able to resume living and working naturally.

*To keep their identities private. (None of you would know them anyways, but just to be safe.)

How did deep grief feel physically? Spiritually?
With Grandma Evie, I felt like I was living in a dream. Like she hadn't really died. I suppose it's natural to be in denial, not wanting to embrace the truth of the situation. (Although for over a week I'd have "Grandma Evie is dead" go through my brain every few moments.) Overall, with Granny, my mourning was really strange to how I usually react.

With Guy#1...mm, that wasn't very good at all. The night I was dumped, I saw it coming, but was relieved he wasn't upset at me. (PM if you want more details). It wasn't until the next morning that it hit me like a bucket of cold water. I drifted throughout my days without enthusiasm. I felt like a boulder was placed on my heart and shoulders. I couldn't stop crying. I'd lie on my bed bawling to depressing music several times a day. I was quiet and only spoke when necessary. I wasn't very hungry, yet ate because I had to. I couldn't smile or laugh genuinely for almost a month, and I wallowed in self-pity. I questioned myself about what I did wrong, why we couldn't be together, ect. (I can be very dramatic...) I was a shell of my old self, to put it simply. I was in that state for 1-2 months. The following 4-5 months I was still feeling depressed. 7 months after the breakup, I finally got over Guy#1.

And Guy#2? Well, I set myself up for failure by building up expectations that we were going to date which is what he led me to believe (but we both played our own part in it). He decided it'd be best if we remained friends for now while he centered himself and settled into his sophomore year of college. Initially, I was shell-shocked, but respected his position. At least I still had a great friend. : ) It wasn't until I went home that it set in. (Especially when I was listening to sad love songs...) I didn't bawl (because that would be bad while driving) but I did have tears go unchecked down my cheeks a couple times. That heavy blanket of sadness settled over me again and it felt like the boulder was back on my heart. It was a terrible feeling. I for the first few days I didn't have much of an appetite, but ate because I had to. I was feeling more depressed over him and the the heartbreak of another friend piled together, which made me feel bad. So by making my friend, Female Friend* happier, I felt better. (This has all occurred in the past two weeks.) Last week and this week have been up and down. Some days I feel nothing about it and am completely fine. Other days I feel terrible again. Other times I think about it and I feel depressed for a fleeting moment until I distract myself. I'm still a work in progress, but time will heal things. <: )

*To also protect the identity of my friend not to be confused with as the two guys I've been referencing.

What other emotions were mixed in? How often did they show up?
Grandma Evie: I just felt emptiness, loss, disbelief, and almost like I was in some dream-state.

Guy#1: Anger, betrayal, jealousy at his new girlfriend, and self -bereavement at my behavior and thoughts.

Guy#2: Shock, relief, and disappointment.

What other things could you think about, or could you think about anything else at all?I think I've provided way more information than anyone wants, (with more to spare), but I wanted to be thorough. ^^;; *is very open and very wordly, unfortunately*

~Calen

I don't have that much experience, but what I do have, I can share.

My Great-Grandma died this year. They moved her to a new facility (she was in the hospital for a few weeks), and she died that night, probably from the strain of the move. My sister came out to the barn as I was doing chores, and she said "Did you hear that Great-Grandma died?"

My automatic reaction was "Well that is annoying! We didn't even get to visit her in that new place!" My second reaction was "Wow, that was insensitive!"

For days afterward I hardly could realize she was dead. I knew where she had gone, and I was glad for her. Then after awhile, I got this strange longing feeling, and once I even cried. Every now and then I'd get this sudden memory. It's sort of like you are sorting three different colors of marbles into three boxes. Then someone takes one of your boxes and you have no where to put one of the colors. You kind of walk around wondering where your box is, and not knowing what to do with your marbles.

After a couple weeks we brought home a pillow that had been at her house, and when I passed it I got a whiff of the smell that pervades her house. I just sat and sniffed that pillow, and couldn't get enough of it, and almost cried again.

I'm sure each of my sisters cried more than I did. One of my friends (not even related) cried while talking to us about it.

Okay, I intend to return to this topic, because this is a topic I can discuss... I hope. But I need to sleep on this, before I post. So I'll be back.

I thought I'd posted in this one already.
Okay.
I too lost my great-grandma this summer, and it took some time to sink in. Once it got through, I cried, but it wasn't that bad because she was really old and tired, and she was going to be with God. For me, I would find myself acting normally not long after, then I would remember and be sad. I still do that sometimes, but I played at her funeral and that helped.
I've never lost anyone closer than that, someone who maybe I feel should have lived. It was Gramma-Gramma's time to die. We were ready.
People might respond outwardly with anger. They might become uncaring, and not take care of themselves. Inside, it feels like breaking up. Like your heart just crumbles into dust. It made me want to curl up in a little ball and shut people out. On the other hand, some people might throw themselves into work or studies to block out the memories.
I hope that helped, I don't have much experience with this topic.

Apparently I am avoiding this topic.

I really do intend to come in here and comment, E.

Thank you.

One ... interesting ... response to grief that I've read about, which I found helpful for myself:

When Dante heard that his beloved Beatrice was dead, he quoted the beginning of Lamentations ("How lonely sits the city that one was full of people?") and then (though perhaps much later; I don't know how strictly true his autobiography The New Life is) wrote a poem mourning her.

In my own times of grief, once I've gotten past the period of being frozen or choked by the grief (and so unable to do anything productive), I've found writing poetry about it helpful. (Following Dante's model, for example, I wrote a poem that I called "Nunc dimittis".)

*takes a deep breath *

Many of you know I have experienced the grief of losing my little brother. As we are approaching the first anniversary of his death, I decided to ramble in a word document. So, here is my post, E.


The odd thing is, lots of people say we all grieve differently. In some ways, that is true. I mean, some of us suppress it. Others throw themselves into work, trying to forget it. Or maybe we are the class clown and try to minimize it by keeping everyone laughing.

However, there is a grief that levels the playing field. You can’t escape it or manipulate your feelings. When the grief hits so close to home that it makes you physically ill, everyone reacts the same.

Now, how can I say that? I mean, I haven’t experiences other people’s grief, have I? No, but I know a lot of people. And living in the Ronald McDonald house to stay with my brother and family while Samuel was in the hospital for 5 months- I became very close to a lot of people who later lost a loved one, just like we did. I saw the way many different people reacted to the death of someone close to them. And I have decided we all have the same basic reaction. It is a little different in each person, but it is so similar.

When we are talking about deep grief, you really can’t hide it. Not even men. My Daddy is one of the toughest guys you will ever meet. You don’t become a Drill Instructor with his kind of reputation without that character trait. He doesn’t cry. It’s not because he isn’t hurting and nothing penetrates him. He just grieves inwardly. But when he lost his son, he cried. It wasn’t like my mom. It was a soft weeping. He was still trying to hold it together. But you could see the anguish in his body language and face. That kind of grief can’t be hidden.

Part of why it can’t be hidden is because you aren’t thinking about what other people might think. I mean seriously, why do most people try to hide their pain and emotions? Because they don’t want other people to see that vulnerability. They don’t want people to see them broken. I’m one of the worst when it comes to this. When I grieve I fake my way through. Act, bluff, whatever you want to call it, I’ll just make myself numb to it all. I’m hurting on the inside, don’t get me wrong, I just cover it up well.


I firmly believe there is a type of grief that penetrates the deepest part of a person’s soul. You can’t not react.



Oh I threw myself into stuff pretty quickly. It was my coping mechanism. In fact, many HWers wondered if I would drop off the radar afterwards. But I was gone maybe 3 days. I needed to keep functioning, because if I didn’t, I would drowned in sorrow. I had to keep my arms moving, keep dog paddling, in order to stay afloat.

Now, I certainly wasn’t normal yet, not on the inside. And those closest to me knew I was perhaps trying too hard.



Numbness. I felt really numb for a while. Sorta like the smile didn’t reach my eyes? That’s the way I felt. Joys were tempered by the pain. Things that would have made me elated before didn’t really penetrate. If someone said something that hurt, It didn’t fully register. It’s like…. It’s like there is this bubble around you. You can see sharp objects poking at it, but they never reach you. You can see the wind blowing outside, but it never caresses your cheek. All you feel is what is trapped inside that bubble with you. And sometimes what’s trapped inside is worse than the sharp objects on the outside.

Spiritually? That’s the funny thing… See, as a Christian, I believe that despair is a sin, in a sense. I know God is in control. He orchestrates things in my life. He gives the blessings, but he also gives the trials. The hard knocks in life aren’t Satan throwing a wrench in God’s plans. The Lord has allowed those things in my life because it will bring about my ultimate good. He isn’t arbitrary. He has a reason, a plan, a purpose.

I certainly didn’t see His plan or purpose when he took Samuel. This little boy breathed the glory and miraculous power of God day in, day out. He was a living testimony that God works wonders. He fought every day to change lives, alter people’s opinions, show people what true sanctity of life meant. Why would He choose to take Samuel away?

But He did. And while I struggled with the emotions, I fought the darkness; I always had that glimmer of hope and love. I knew I was going to get through it. It didn’t lessen the pain any, but it gave me that rope that said there was a way out. I wouldn’t stay there forever.

God help those who have no hope.




Here is where I think the differences in grief show up. Because the person we lost is different, the other things mixed in with the grief are different.

See, in losing a child, you think about all kinds of things. Birthdays missed, milestones never reached. You’ll never see them graduate college, never see them get married. You will never hold the grandchild, niece, or nephew. You’ll never get to share embarrassing stories with the spouse they wed.
You see, most people try to prepare themselves for losing a parent. Someday death will come. The pain will be great, but you know they lived a good, full life. The untimely death of a child… you can’t prepare for that. When a parent dies, we say good-bye to the past. When a child dies, we are forced to say good-bye to the future.

And then, when you live in the same household as the loved one you lost… there are so many things that hold memories. Sometimes that is a blessing, other times it is unbearable. Elianna would not step foot into Samuel’s room once she realized he was gone. We underestimate the love of a three year old, but Elianna knew he was gone. And she was hurting just as much as the rest of us. She cried for night on end. Didn’t want to sleep alone. Even though a bunch of her favorite toys were in Samuel’s room, she wouldn’t enter. She could care less about those toys. The memories, in essence, haunted her.

One of the hardest things for me was when they came the day after Samuel’s funeral and picked up all of his equipment that we hadn’t purchased. Our house was always filled with the sounds of gentle wooshing, beeps, a humming from his vent…. They took all of that, and suddenly our house was quiet. Most people noticed the sounds when they entered our house because they weren’t normal. We noticed the lack of sound because it wasn’t normal. The silence was cold. And I hated it.

There are little things that come up constantly. That is part of what makes the grief so difficult. Because it never goes away. The anniversary of the death… the birthday… a bill coming in the mail saying “oops, we forgot to charge you for this hospital stay”. Events that you participated in will still come around the next year. People may even ask you to do it in remembrance of the deceased loved one.

You will always see that favorite color and think of them. You have to put away the old clothes. You see frogs and they remind you of the little one you lost. You could have watched movies in the past that deal with the loss of a child and never got too worked up over it. But now it is personal and you crumble.

There are a thousand little triggers that never go away.



Till Christ takes you from this earth.




Like I said, this part depends on the person. My mom was pretty consumed by the thoughts for a while. She was his mother. She gave birth to him. He had been a part of her. Suddenly it felt like a piece of her had been ripped from her body.

I tried not to dwell, but even still, it was always in the back of my mind. The lack of sound, the bustle of people in and out of our house for all of his scheduled appointments… I would catch myself heading back to his room to see if he needed suctioning. It was so routine for me.

Every time I came home I was overcome with the memories and the grief. I had always scooped Elianna up on my way through the door and headed down the hall towards my little man. There were no bathroom stops on the way. No one would sidetrack me. That was my routine. Now I scooped Elianna up and tried to heal my heart by holding her. But even her love was never enough to heal that wound.

*releases the air from her lungs *

I hope that was helpful, in some way. I’m soooo not sure I want to post this…

But I promised I would, so I’m going to.

Hopefully my ramble will help ya’ll better grasp how to portray the kind of grief we often write about in our stories.

Thanks, Airi. That was probably really tough.

@Aldara: *nods * It was. My natural inclination is to minimize my own pain. So when I do have to confront it… it is always hard. I procrastinated quite a bit. Oh well.

@E: I noticed that, but I don't mind. *hugs tight * I love you too, kiddo! *needs to see E in real life again so she can give her a real hug *

And honestly, there are few people I would have replied on this thread for. You would be one of those.

I'm grateful you shared that, Kaitlyn.

When I go through grief I am usually withdrawn and quiet, if it's serious friends may notice, but most of the time my thoughts remain my own. If it is extremely horrible I will often weep openly, such as when my family lost our last foster children. For things like that, though, grief will often be followed by anger, and eventually I will just settle into the aforementioned moods. The anger comes out in my writing, so if you are ever reading a blog or webpage or forum post that seems sloppily written and like a rant, then odds are something isn't right.

*cries quietly* Reading sad things... tends to affect me.

I really have never experienced deep grief before. So I am very grateful for this thread.
*hugs Airianna*

Thank you, Airi. You have given me some ideas for my character, Davien.

Thank you everyone for posting and sharing these tough experiences. *has been lurking*

I haven't ever dealt with the death of a very close loved one, but I have dealt with death before. There was a precious little baby named Elisa in Brasil. Her parents were some of our best friends, and they had miscarried many times. Elisa was their first child, but things went wrong in the pregnancy and Elisa was born many weeks premature.

I never even met Elisa, or even saw her. But when she died, it was like it sucked out all of the life from her parents, and from us around her. There was now no hope that she would grow up, or ever move out of the hospital. But at the same time, we all had the hope that we would see Elisa in heaven.

*sighs* Does grief always have to be death, though? Certainly there are other kinds of grief, if on a lower level, however. When our team was disbanded in Asia, we left knowing that we'd probably never see these families again (and with some exceptions, we haven't thus far). And it comes up in little things. You say, "Tristan would really have liked this." and then realize that the Veldt family is thousands of miles away. And it doesn't really sink in until a couple of months later, when you realize and see these little things.

Hm. That's all I've got for now. Thanks everyone for sharing your experiences - I know that it is hard.

eru

That made me cry too, Airi.

My Grandad died about 7 years ago now; when he died I don't remember crying much and I often wondered why I didn't. But recently I got out some old letters from him, and I just cried for ages. He became a Christian on his death bed so I suppose what when he died I was happy thinking I would see him again. When I was reading the letters though it struck me how much I miss him.

Nana died last week and I keep crying over that, in little bursts though. I think crying helps grieving, somehow. When I cry I feel much better then, like I've got a load off my chest.

If I'm with someone and their grieving/upset and crying I always end up crying too, it reminds me of that scripture that says 'weep with those who weep', I somehow can't stop myself.

*hugs Elanor* I'm sorry about your Nana.

We've done that a lot with some friends of ours... They've gone camping a lot with us, and it was "Oh, remember when-" or "So and so always loved this." It does take a while to sink in.

For me personally, I almost never cry. Every once in a while I'll have an emotional cry for two solid hours and then I typically feel lighter. It mostly happens when I'm emotionally drained. Seriously, if I feel like crying over something, it's pretty powerful.

I'm still a very emotional person, though. When I'm emotionally attached to something/someone and they go through pain, or anguish, I get hit almost the same way. Torture scenes hit me emotionally. I don't cry. I don't normally blink hard. I do want to curl up in a little ball of misery and wrestle with the anguish. I cry "inside" if that makes sense.

My attempt at my 2 bits, anyway.

I'm glad it helped, guys.

Andrew: No, grief certainly does not only pertain to death. That is a very specific grief, one lots of authors struggle with portraying. But, as you said, there are other types of grief. You gave a good example. Another example would be when a friend moves away and you know you will likely never see them again.

Or when you have to move from somewhere.
I actually went into shock when Daddy suddenly announced that we had to move. I felt horribly numb. All I could see was my secure future shattering and falling like glass. I was told later I didn't look sad. I probably looked how I felt---blank.
I said nothing, and when I left the table, I couldn't pray or think. I went straight to my bed and curled up small, hugging Cracker tight. Finally the shock passed and I felt better. Over the next few days, weeks, months, I swayed between excited over the adventure, and sad over leaving our home. I left a bit of my childhood behind when we left.

Hey, there's another aspect to grief: the shock. Sometimes something happens so suddenly that we can't cope with it right away.

I really appreciated your post, Airi, almost made me cry (I'm serious, and I wouldn't admit it in person). The only loved one that I have known that died was my great grandmother (seems to be quite common on this thread), but I was so outwardly indifferent I almost felt like a jerk, but like you said, with people like that, they've lived a full life, and in this case, were a Christian, and in my case, she was totally not comfortable here anymore, so I was happy for her in that sense. The only time I cried was seeing my family crying about it...Yeah your post really was helpful though, you're a good writer!

Thank you, Runningwolf. I'm glad the Lord used my words to help.

I've experianced grief, I shall be back when I figure out a good way to describe it without saying the same thing Airi said. (If I'm not someone can poke me.)

Ok, Adira. I'll poke you if you forget.

Here, is my post on grief...finally. I wrote it before I knew about Emeth going to prison, so none of what I felt about that is in there.



My mom’s parents divorced right after she graduated. My grandma left without explaining why. My mom hasn’t told me much about it, except that going into college she was an emotional wreck. I think, that when a person’s parents divorce they often wonder if they themselves are problem. Which could easily bring them to become self-destructive or depressed. My Grandpa re-married and my Grandma did not. Family birthday parties are awkward; my Grandma avoids talking directly to my Grandpa, but will occasionally talk to my step-Grandma. When I was little, I never quite understood why I had three grandmas when all my friends had two.

If I were to lose my dreams, I’d be lost and scared. After having put all that energy, emotion, time, hope and ambition into something only to have it taken away would make me feel vulnerable, like my life had no direction any more. I almost always mask my emotions. I try to push them down behind my walls and tell the world I’m okay, that I’m strong enough to handle it. Eventually, it comes out though, if you’re hurting enough you eventually have to let it out somehow. I’ve seen this take form through writing-fiction and poetry, crying, and self-destructive things like cutting.

I’ve been to many funerals, known a fair amount of people who’ve died. Out of those three were pretty close to me. My neighbor, who was like a grandmother, best friend and mentor to me, died three years ago from a second battle with Cancer. I think I was about 11; I spent the entire day crying in my room or staring numbly out the window. That first day it was like I was in shock. Then I shoved it all down, tried to forget; that’s when I first started to wear a mask. Some nights I used to walk over to her house and run my hands along the railing of her deck remembering the conversations we had there, not really realizing what I was doing.

A little less than a year later, a friend of mine from camp died, also from Cancer. As with my neighbor, my initial emotion was shock, numbness. I didn’t know what to do. I spent a lot of time in my room so that if a tear escaped my guard, it would not be seen. I wrote some pretty dark poetry over the course of the next year. I remember running outside and climbing high in the maple tree that stands in the middle of our back yard. Something about how strong it was made me feel safe. I became very quiet, and spent a lot of time alone. I felt alone. My mask really became a part of me. Even now, sometimes it’s hard for me to tell if I’m wearing it or not.


A day or so, I felt like if I didn’t move on I’d drown in pain and sorrow. Nights were the worst; for awhile I would I suppress my memories with music and reading. That didn’t work for long though, it was like the memories I had of her were crashing down on my mind, no matter what I did or how hard I tried not to remember, I couldn’t. Once you’ve lost someone close, you’re never the same. The ache is always there; ready to be triggered by even the smallest thing.



My chest and throat hurt. I was constantly tired like I was walking in a fog. I had headaches and would go through stages of eating everything in sight or having a complete loss of appetite.

I felt weighed down, I felt like I was walking in darkness, like I was dying inside.

My older brother is special needs, he has brain damage for a tumor that was in his brain. If any of you have seen the movie Letters to God, he had the same type of Cancer Tyler did. My brother functions at about the level of a second grader. It’s hard for me having a big brother, but being ‘older’ than he is. Older brothers are special, and I often wonder what he would be like if he hadn’t gotten Cancer, what it would be like to have big bro.
… Anyways, that’s my rather lengthy and rambly post on grief.

Wow, that is a very good post, thank you for that Abira, we appreciate you remembering these things to write them down...I imagine that would have been unpleasant. Thank you.

I suppose the closer you are to someone, the more the loss rips you. If you never let yourself get close to someone, then the main feeling, I think, would be regret.

*nods *

This is why (according to a lecture on the philosophy of the Stoics that I attended my sophomore year of college, a few years ago) it was common in ancient Roman culture to deliberately not get close to one's family or children, to not be hurt by their loss. (The Stoics argued for the opposite core, saying that after a loss one's memories of the departed person would be a consolation ... or something like that; I didn't take any notes in that lecture.)

Lots of very good (and sad) posts here.

Grief in any form is one of the hardest emotions to write, probably because it's not one emotion but a whole lot of them and it depends on the person, their personality, the circumstances, so it's different for everyone. In writing you have to know your character very well before you can effectively write about their grief.

Yes...good point.

Yes, but when you aren't close to someone I think you recover faster, or at least don't grieve for as long. My Nana was not very close to us, and during the last few years of her life she moved away and we never saw her, she wouldn't contact us etc. I cried when she died, and was really upset, but now I never cry when I think of her. Whereas with my Grandad, we were very close to him, he would come every week on the bus to see us, even when he got older and found it hard to walk; I remember once when it was really snowing and icy and he still came. If my sister and I talk about him, we generally cry a little, we miss him so much, and he's been gone for over eight years now. My Nana died under a year ago, but it feels so different with them both, because we were close to one, and not close to the other.

Then again, when you close your heart to deep relationships, you miss out on a lot of joy and love.

A very common yet deep question: Is opening your heart to someone else worth the risk?

I think the answer is yes.

I think Lewis' quote on the subject sums it up pretty well:


Love is a risk we all ought to take (of course, you should be careful how you use it though....)

Not at all.

That's a great quote. Thanks for sharing it.

I think from my own experience (which is not nearly as extensive as that of most of the people on this planet), that the most important thing when writing about grief is not to deal in cliches.

Don't constantly use the word "sad" or "agony" or "depths of despair". In fact, instead of telling people how your characters feel at all, show how those feelings affect the characters.

I don't need to be told the kind of gloom that is hanging over a person's soul, if I can see the constant slump of their shoulders, and the forced way they laugh.

Yes... Wow... so much to say here.

And the C.S. Lewis quote I'd have pulled out has already been posted! So. You're on the right track.

This is probably not the best thread for me to read or reply to before work, so I'll come back later.

Well, I suppose this is as opportune a time as any to post on this thread.

I found out today that my great-grandmother (Omi, our version of Oma, which is German for grandmother) died this morning. I knew her well, though I haven't seen her in a few years. I guess the grief hasn't really hit me yet-ever since my mom told me, I've been feeling such a weird mix of emotions; at first I was kind of numb at first, then depressed for a while, then numb again, and I keep having to remind myself that she's gone. It feels so weird to speak of her in the past tense. But she's in a better place now.
My parents wanted to name me after her (Elsa), but she wouldn't let them. She said people would tease me and call me Elsie the Cow, which was apparently a brand of milk when she was younger, and she got teased because of that. So they named me Elizabeth, which is pretty close to Elsa and also my Granny's middle name.

When her husband, my great-grandfather (Opi, our version of Opa, German for grandfather) died about five years ago, the grief took a while to go into effect then as well, though that was back when I saw them more often, so the grief struck a little bit harder, I think. To this day, every time I think of how his couch in the den where he used to sit all the time, reading his Bible or the newspaper, is empty now, I get teary. Little things like that; someone sitting on a couch and reading the same way he did, someone rotund and balding who wears thick glasses, etc., remind me of him.

My grandfather died a few years ago-I might have been 15. Whenever I saw him, he would give me this scratchy kiss that itched my cheek, and so whenever my mom or dad, or someone in my family kisses my cheek and it happens to feel like that, I am reminded of him. Sometimes even, when there's an ad on the radio about lung disease, I can't help remembering that he died of lung disease, emphysema, because of how much he smoked. I remember myself as a little medical-nerd kid, showing him a picture in my "Human Body" book of a diseased lung, and he assured me that it was never going to happen to him.
Look how that turned out.

My grandmother on my father's side died when I was younger, I don't remember my exact age, but let's say seven. There was always this smell when we went to her apartment; I think it was the kind of cigarettes she smoked. So whenever I smell those same cigarettes, or the trace of a scent they leave, I think of her. My cousin (dad's niece) always puts a picture of Gramma holding me as a baby on her Facebook as her profile picture on Mother's Day, around the time she died, around her birthday, around Grandparent's Day, and it always gets me choked up to see her holding little baby me in her arms, smiling, and now I can't remember her well except for that one particular smell.

My great-great-aunt died at the ripe old age of 101. I was about 9, perhaps. She had this one chair where she would always sit in my great-grandmother's house when she went to visit, and now I sit in that chair and remember her, and imagine her hugging me.

*takes a deep breath and forces down tears*

I hope this is helpful to someone. When you lose a loved one, the oddest thing can remind you of them. A tablecloth that looks like the curtain in their kitchen, a laugh that sounds vaguely like theirs, someone whistling like they did, a shoe like the ones they used to wear... This is not something you can just get over. It stays with you forever.

I don’t know if this counts as a dead dream but it was something that affected me in a way I did not expect.

I also have a story or two about death I will add later.

Growing up I was a pretty sheltered kid. Being homeschooled I didn’t have many kids my age to play with or talk to. Because I didn’t spend a lot of time interacting with people outside of my family I felt incredibly out of place with any group of people. I was awkward, extremely shy, insecure, terrified that people wouldn't like me, and uncomfortable in social situations. I didn't know how to relate or react to these people and I just wanted to run away from every conversation. I ended up becoming lonely and it deeply hurt me.

Then I was introduced to football and everything changed. At the time I was the first homeschooler to play sports for that public school, and since most of my teammates had never met a homeschooler before, let alone one playing football, it forced me to talk to others by answering all their questions. It helped me redirect and deal with pain and loneliness and bolstered my confidence. When I put on that helmet I felt all my insecurities disappear.

Over the years I learned how to joke, deal with criticism and teasing, make friends, overcome pain, the value of hard work, how to be a leader, and what it meant to be a person of character. It helped enforce the values my parents taught me and the lessons I learned ultimately forged a large part of who I am today.

I ended up playing football for nine years. For nine years I had to schedule my life around that sport, sacrifice my time, energy, and my body to develop the skills I needed to excel. Nine years I lifted and trained for two hours a day five days a week. I regularly pushed my body to its breaking point, crawled out of the weight room, and did it again the next day. If I did not throw up or could barely move by the end of a workout it was not a good session for me. And because of that grueling work I became a very, very good player.

Long story short, playing football had a large impact on my development as person.

Then in college I had three knee surgeries. After the first two the doctors said I could still play football and so I did. Then, during the off season, a familiar tingle and ache returned to my knee and I knew I had torn something again. After I was examined the doctor basically gave me an ultimatum: After this surgery you can still play but YOU WILL cause permanent damage to your knee. You can either stop now and save your knee or keep playing and walk with a cane for the rest of your life.

I said I’ll think about it and left. I didn’t make my decision out loud to anyone, I internally I knew what I had to do, but I didn’t want to deal with it and decided to keep on training and delay the decision until much later.

Unfortunately, within that same week, my coach called to get in touch as I was supposed to be starting on varsity that fall. I remember my face getting hot and a deep burning within my chest as he asked me about my training, expectations for the season, and if I was excited that my hard work would pay off.

After a long pause I told him with a shaky voice I wasn’t going to play. That I had to give it up. There was another long pause before he spoke, and I could barely hear him because my heart pounded loudly in my ears. He said he was disappointed in losing a good player but knew my decision was the right one. He thanked me for being apart of the team, I thanked him for the all opportunities, and we hung up.

I closed my bedroom door, turned of the lights, and went to bed at 6 PM. I remember feeling numb and drained, emotionally and physically drained. I felt like all my training, my skill, my physical strength, all this talent I had been blessed with no longer held a purpose. I felt a great sense of loss and sadness, not the same as a loss of a loved one, but more like losing something special that’s been with you for years and knowing you’re never going to get it back. I honestly felt like a part of my identity, a way of my life was now gone.

I’ve always heard about people feeling hollow and I never truly understood what they meant until that night. I felt hollow. Like everything inside of me had been scooped out except for my heartbeat echoing through my body. It felt like my skin was made out of thin layer of porcelain and I was scared if I breathed in too deeply or exhaled too much the porcelain would shatter and my chest would collapse in on itself and take the rest of me with it. I remember, before falling asleep, that I was controlling my breathing so I wouldn’t shatter.

The hollowness lasted for about two days but that sense of loss lingered for months. I eventually got over it but for the remainder of my college days I would not drive past our football field. The sense of longing and regret hit me every time I saw the field. I had to fight against the foolish idea that I could still go back, that I should risk my knee and finish those last two years so I could end my career on my terms.

That sense of longing never really goes away. When I go to my brother’s football games all the memories flood back with the sights, sounds, and smell of the game, and I just want to suit up and play one last time under the lights.