Going and growing through it.

I lost my Ba (grandfather) a month ago. Ba had been the most important man in my life. To an extent that even my father envied the adoration and endearment he showered at me. I came to know about his sudden death via phone a day after he passed away. I was miles and miles away from home hence, could not make it to see him for the last time let alone say goodbye.

Life had been merciless to me lately. It began last December ever since I graduated. Revoked job offer, then countless vain attempts to get one. Constant bullet sharp confrontation with family about the ongoing uncertainty. And now, losing my Ba, someone so core to my being.

I used to consider myself brave, someone who gets back up when life hits with adversity stick. This stick, until the moment included all kinds of downfall but losing a beloved. Losing someone is never easy. In my case, being away from home, the one place I wanted to be, made it worse. Waking up every day and walking down this sorrow lane has been the excruciating agony until date. It was unbearable. Often, I would close my eyes hoping for things to be back to me being jobless, not Ba-less. Every day I woke up praying for the nightmare to be over. But it did not.

I had never felt this vulnerable all my life. I wanted to around my family and friends so they can tell me, things will get better even though not back to how it was. Hug me for as long as possible and say “Ba is now with you all the time”. I longed to speak with someone but feared of ruining their day. After all it was my pain and I am to endure it, not them. One thing that helped me escape was reading. So, I read voraciously. Facing adversity. Building resilience. Becoming fearless. Finding joy. And so on. Undoubtedly, reading triumph stories consoled my feeble heart but what helped me the most was talking about my pain.

After thinking and other thinking, I gathered courage to reach-out to one of my closest friends. She was devastated to hear about my loss for she knew what Ba meant to me. Nevertheless, she also shared about her loss, losing a dear uncle in an accident. She kept repeating “I cannot take your pain away Sophie, but I am here, just a call away to talk about it.” Every night she called, for two whole weeks, just to check on me. To ask what I did during the day and how I felt at the moment. Even though she was not right beside the mere thought of her availability comforted me immensely.

Talking about my vulnerability with loved and trusted ones helped to heal my wounds and at the same time let the next person open up about their wounds. Further, strengthening our bond. Today, these are the people I can speak my mind out without the fear of being judged.  The more I talked about my loss, the more I realized how everyone, at one point or the other, has lost someone so dear. Each conversation reminded me of how things could have been worse. Listening to the stories of resilience made me hopeful that I too shall overcome this. And, I am. Slowly.

As I continue to learn to embrace pain, I realize how we are encouraged to talk about our accomplishments and successes, but not truly about our failures and pain points. We grow up observing and associating vulnerability with weakness. We hear mumbles how asking for help might infect others with our burden so, better bury it within. While I do agree, it is ‘self’ who faces and endures adversity, it is only with the help of loved ones the ‘self’ can gain resiliency and venture on a path to joy. I detest to admit how I learnt this lesson at the cost of my Ba. And I write to share, so no one else has to pay the same price before starting to speak about their vulnerabilities.

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