Grief is a Class

"Our time on earth is a school. Grief is the toughest class we have to take." 

Grief is a teacher that has taught me many lessons. I can't say I'm glad of my grief, but I can look at who I was before, compare it to who I am now, and see the growth my grief pushed me through.

I learned to say no. No to the million and one activities that looked like they might be fun, no to the million and one little things people asked of me, no to things that other people thought were important. Grief forced me to prioritize what was important and what was not. I didn't have the energy to get through a long day so I learned what was really important to fit in each day.

I learned how to not care. Before B died, I was a living example of a conformist. I joined a sorority, thought I wanted to be an elementary school teacher, went to the church my parents wanted me to go to, and got all As. Grief gave me an excuse to not conform to every little rule. It didn't matter if I didn't fit in, B's death already assured me of that. Maybe this sounds negative, but it's not. I really get to be me. Every day. No mask, no trying too hard, no caring if someone doesn't like one little bit of me. I'm comfortable with who I am. It's a good feeling. In case you're wondering, I hate Gangnam style and I refuse to join google+ because I think it's stupid. And that is more than I could have said before my grief.

I learned about God. Before, I blindly believed every line any religious person had ever fed to me. And for a while I didn't know if I wanted to believe in God. Then, I was angry at God. Being angry with God was one of the best things I could have ever done. It really allowed me to have discussions with Him. I poured my heart out over the anger and He chose to heal my broken heart. My faith is so much more real now that I've been able to share my hurt and pain with Him.

I learned how to ask for help. I needed help getting through each day. I needed people to feed me so I would eat. I needed hugs to survive the overwhelming waves of grief. I had to forget my pride and ask for the help because people didn't know I needed if I didn't ask. I'm pretty self reliant at this point, but I'm not afraid to ask for help. I can and do.

I learned to read nonfiction. For a while, fiction was to happy/cliche/perfect. And it was painful to read that perfectness. There's some really good memoirs out there that have kept me company over the past few years.

I learned about life and death decisions. I don't think any of my friends know all the decisions that need to be made when someone dies. Now, I am an organ donor (My Driver's License says so). I've had that discussion with my family. We made that decision for my brother so I know what I want to do if the situation ever comes again. I know how much funerals and cremation, etc cost. I've learned how to tell people the bad news. I learned the things that are important in these decisions. When my parents die (hopefully I have them for another 40 years or so)I know how to handle death.

Grief also gave me courage. I will never be thankful for my grief because it meant losing Bryan but I am thankful for the growth it brought.