Grief, mourning and healing
I start biking. The warm breeze touches my face and before I know it I’m heading to my usual spot. It’s about a 27 minute ride. I would’ve never thought my regular bike rides would take me here. But I am always drawn to this special place.
It’s a long and steady incline before I make it to section Y. When people ask me where Penn is I answer, “Section Y. Easy to remember. Why Penn? Why our family? Why did this happen?” I turn left and I see Penn’s gravesite. I blow bubbles. I bring her a special rock and place it in her bucket. I water her newly seeded grass and her flowers. I’ve realized this is how I can still parent her. I make sure her place of rest is well tended to.
“I grieve because I love. And as long as I love I will grieve”
Grief has no linear path for anyone, although it is a universal, natural feeling for us all. I’ve been grieving for months now. At first, it was grieving what life was before the diagnosis. It then evolved to what life could’ve been, if cancer didn’t take over our lives. When Penn died, I grieved for her life, her hugs, smile, giggles and our dates.
Along the way, in all my stages of grief, I have gotten advice:
“You’ll move forward in no time.”
“Be strong.”
“Time will heal.”
And you know what? What if I no longer want to be “strong”. And what does being strong even mean?? What if I don’t or want to get over it. And how time will heal, and your pain will lessen over time. I know now, that’s not true. The size of my grief will stay the same - I will grow around it, and find my personal way to cope. Time won’t lessen the pain - triggers will still happen and in an instant, it hurts just as much as the first time it happens.
When I am sad, all I have to do is look out the window. I often see a pink and blue sky - Penn’s bubblegum.
So as I go through all my ups and downs, a rollercoaster of emotions, I’ve decided I’m putting myself first. A foreign concept for someone has hasn’t put herself first for the passed 15 months. Because after experiencing grief like this, I am no longer the same person I was yesterday. I won’t be the same person tomorrow. I will continue to evolve and go with the ebbs and flows of going through grief, mourning and hopefully healing.
Although Penn is not physically with me, I feel her spirit. There are moments were I feel Penn is in the room with me, comforting me. She visits me in my dreams. She’s wearing her bucket hat, braid to the side, running around with the biggest smile on her face. It’s Penn from summer 2021, while she was undergoing radiation treatment.
What Penn looks like when she visits me in my dreams. Happy.
I think of her when I see a butterfly, bubbles, the moon and the stars. I’ve been seeing a lot of Penn’s bubblegum colour skies lately and all I can think about is she’s sending me a message that she’s OK. Which brings me comfort. And all of these signs and moments are helping me heal.
The first time I saw the moon and the stars since Penn passed was in early July on our family camping trip. I like to think, this was her way of sending me a sign that she is with us on our camping trip.
In Filipino culture, once someone dies, nine days of prayers begin. This meant our house was full of people. every day. It was the first time in our new home having people over and since COVID. At times, there were more than 40 people in our home. I loved it. Being surrounded by family is healing. We celebrated life, love, and how our Penn Penn brought us closer than ever before. For that, I am so grateful.
Penn’s 40 days landed on Sheldon and I’s wedding anniversary. This was not how I envisioned celebrating eight years of marriage, but we celebrated nonetheless. We did a butterfly release at the cemetery with 24 butterflies, her birthday number. It was healing to see butterflies wake up in the palms of our hands, and fly into the sky. Perhaps they will reach Penn wherever she may be.
As I place my helmet back on and hop onto my bike, I look up to the sky and see a few bubbles still lingering in the air. Penn’s spirit is here, always in my heart, looking after me wherever I go.