My friend I never wanted to be in a friendship with came back last night in one of those smack you in the face kind of moments. She sucks at subtlety and timing. If grief was a human she would be an in your face, brash, loud, stage 5 clinger who would probably struggle with making friends. She wouldn’t be anyone’s person or the first name written on an invite list to a party.

I went to a concert last night for a local LGBTQIA+ chorus that I used to sing in and it was amazing!!! It was easily one of the most transformative musical experiences I have ever had. It was soul filling, joyful, and a night I will never forget. Of course grief decided that a Disney Pride Concert was the perfect time to make her presence known, specifically she chose the end of Circle of Life to make her presence known. She must be a Lion King fan. As I was sitting listening to the powerful percussive harmonies of Circle of Life waft over me, I couldn’t help but think about all the times I stood on that same stage and sang with that group. I couldn’t help but think of the girl who used to stand on that stage and the life she had and thus began the water works. The water works weren’t cute tears. It was the kind of tears that leave you sniffing your nose in hopes of keeping the snot from running all the way down your face.

While I miss singing in a community chorus and getting to be a part of amazing musical opportunities, the tears last night were more about missing the version of myself who was able to do those things and missing the life I led back then. Missing the ease and independence of life back then. Missing the fullness and vibrancy of life back then. I cried my way through Circle of Life, Reflections from Mulan, and Remember Me from Coco.. my grief has quite the varied musical taste. At first I tried to stop the tears and then I just let them come. I’ve learned it’s easier that way. Fighting grief is a losing battle.. she always wins. However, I was proud of myself for pulling it together before the choir burst into songs from the “Little Mermaid” as ugly crying during “Under The Sea” just isn’t a good look.

As I was laying in bed last night trying to make sense of grief and why she decided a Disney Pride concert was the time to make her triumphant return, I realized there is no making sense of or understanding grief. Grief just is. For someone who likes making sense of things and putting things in a box, accepting something as nuanced and unexplainable as grief goes against my natural inclination. She can’t be put in a box. She can’t be explained. She can’t be figured out she just is and I have to begrudgingly do my best to let her be who she is.

I don’t know that I will ever be a fan of her unexpected appearances and the way she seems to enjoy stealing the show for a time.. I’d much rather prefer an email calendar invite that said “On this day from this time I will be making an appearance”, but she doesn’t come with calendar invites.

If you’ve ever been on a grief journey or currently find yourself on one, you have experienced the rollercoaster that is grief. You’ve ridden in her coaster cart and you’ve held on with all the strength you have as she takes you on a ride you never wanted to be on. You’ve surfed her waves that at times you were sure would overwhelm you. You have stories of random places you’ve cried that would leave someone who isn’t or hasn’t had to navigate grief looking at you like WTF. Someone should write a book called “Grief: All the places I’ve cried”.

Grief is all these things and yet she is also an invitation to slow down. An invitation to look inside. An invitation to appreciate the little things in life because you know how quickly life can change. An invitation to be kinder. An invitation to accept our humanness. An invitation to live life authentically and on your terms. An invitation to put yourself first.

Grief just is and she will continue to be and I will continue to be with her and to begrudgingly welcome her in. If I’m honest, I’d rather keep her waiting on the porch of my soul, but she refuses to knock before she enters and instead let’s herself in like an old friend, sits down, and says “I think I’ll stay awhile.”