Who has seen the worst of you? The anger, the ugly crying, the unsexy curves, and the extreme triggers?
Who has seen the best of you? The smiles, the special glances, the wisecracks, and the seemingly unconditional love?
For me, it’s always been the men I’ve been with. I once told my ex-husband that if anyone writes a biography about me, they should definitely talk to him because he dated me in my 20s, was married to me in my 30s, and we’re back to being friends in our 40s now. He just smiled politely as he usually does.
What really elongates grief and makes it so gray and confusing is the juxtaposition of the good with the bad. The man who moves countries for you is the same man who doesn’t stand up for you. The man who drops everything to come and get you from the bus stop also ghosts you when you are rude to him once.
The good of a relationship is like tasting the sloppily mixed honey in the Greek yoghurt. It gave hope in the past and continues to give hope after everything ends. Without the honey, there will be no grief, and no relationship to begin with, either.
Processing grief well and completely is all about holding past hope alongside current hopelessness. Making past hope not future hope. Appreciation of the good, with solemn regard for the bad. Or making the bad bigger than the good, at least in your head.
