#SOL20 Day 11 (Bonus): How Bad am I at Grief? (Or…will it always be too soon?)

In my daily blogroll, I came across Laughing Squid’s post about comedian Glen Tickle, whose Netflix special is in tribute to his late brother.

I can picture myself tuning in. I picture my own brother looking on from wherever he is, perhaps laughing along in that laugh I can never unhear, visiting me later on in my dreams to thank me for keeping him around a little longer in my thoughts.

It should be the kind of show I’m into. As a fellow human who lost a brother too soon, as someone who knows that grieving is messy and weird and difficult, I should find comfort and solace in sharing someone else’s experience. I should find a quiet hour and a box of tissues and dig in.


But as a human who knows that grieving is messy and weird and difficult, I don’t know that I have it in me.

And I’ve hung out long enough with Grief to know that Should has absolutely no business being anywhere in the room.

So it’s possible that I might watch the special, and it’s possible that it might offer solace and validation. It’s also possible I’ll pop in a DVD of Airplane, and think fondly on the guy who would text me random lines from that movie, who had crazy amazing dimples, who reduced everybody’s first names to single syllables, and who left this world way too soon.

Of course I’m serious about that. And don’t call me Shirley.

Published by Lainie Levin

Mom of two, full-time teacher, wife, daughter, sister, friend, and holder of a very full plate

8 thoughts on “#SOL20 Day 11 (Bonus): How Bad am I at Grief? (Or…will it always be too soon?)

  1. Well said. I wanted to bake at home over Christmas but I couldn’t do it with all my moms stuff. I wanted to honor her and yet I wanted her there. I get it. I think it does help to write about it to and let those emotions live somewhere.

    1. Oh and baking is one of those spaces where we can feel it so keenly. It’s already such a kinesthetic act, and we get transported through the smells and tastes. Add that we are using one loved one’s recipe, or a loved one’s kitchen tools, and yes. That can be quite powerful.

  2. You had me at “that laugh I can never unhear” . . . how sad, how haunting, but how beautiful, and what a tribute to your brother, to the last line which surely would make him smile.

    1. Thank you. I do miss him dearly.

      And yes. Whenever I quote that movie, there’s a little piece of him right there with me.

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