So I don’t handle grief all that well, and on the flip side of that coin I am becoming expert at it.

As a gifted person I form deep attachments to things and people, in my case mostly people, who have an impact or play a part in my life journey. Think about this for a minute. One person could make a throw away comment about something that moves, touches, inspires or alters my pathway in life is some way, and I am attached.

Inevitably they do not feel the same way and I become unattached quite quickly. I feel the pain of the loss, and all of it is deep. There isn’t a sense of ‘overreacting’ as that person is now an important part of why I am the way I am.

If I am left to my own devices I would become a ‘bubble girl’ and live in a cave away from everyone that can cause those flinching, pain filled moments. As long as I had my laptop and unlimited supplies of electricity and The Big Bang Theory episodes. On a side note, I totally get Sheldon’s world and think all the rest should feel delighted, honoured and grateful that he chooses to spend time with them. Seriously. The man is a genius and when there is that much information going on in his brain it is absolutely unreasonable for them to expect him to navigate his way through the quagmire that is social niceties when chances are, given the human variable, he’ll never get it right anyway. AND if they really loved him they wouldn’t expect him to!

Anyway, as I was saying, grief. My childhood wasn’t a rosy playground of fun, games and laughter. I had a terrible time at school and though I am clear my Mum loved and still loves me to bits and is committed to my life working (evident by how often she tells me it isn’t and how to fix it) I wasn’t an easy child to cope with. I was quite stubborn and insisted on having everything explained. Not for me the “because I said so” and consequently often drove my mother up the wall, leading to another episode of grief to deal with.

I got good dealing with grief through practice. I see now that this practice was necessary though, as if I hadn’t had those relatively tiny ‘breaks-in-connection’ the big ones would have ended me.

There is a point to all this. One of the people who I have firmly connected to my happy childhood memories is my cousin. Two years younger than me, her and her sister (my age) lived a couple of hours drive away, and so on long weekends and school holidays we visited each other. Living on a 16acre hobby farm and not really thinking all that much of the two TV channels at our disposal (pre digital and foxtel, the horror!) we created a lot of games and found some ingenious and fantastic ways to amuse ourselves.

This poem is written for her, by me, about the games we played, as she tragically took her own life last year in October, not knowing just how much she was loved and treasured and the special place and connection she will always have in my memories, heart and soul.

No More.
I woke up this morning,
And found you had left,
gone without saying goodbye,
here no more, leaving me bereft
no more card games,
until late into the night
just hanging out together
putting the world to rights
no more climbing trees
pretending we were home
in the branches reading books
leaving our minds free to roam.
no more playing monsters
under blankets in the dark
three of us falling on each other
giggles at every small remark
no more playing board games,
always looking for that pickle
I wish I had realised
that life could be so fickle.
no more turning beds over
lights out, playing wars
using torches as spotlights
to mend imagined sores
no more dodgy dance shows
using eighties tunes,
but such a fantastic way
to spend our afternoons
no more playing grown ups
named daffodil, tulip or rose
living each others dramas
if only we could have known.
It makes me sad to know,
new memories are now no more
I dream that you’ll now feel peace
But you’ve left my heart so sore.
I know that the day will come
and we’ll meet again I’m sure
but that seems like forever away
so right now, all I have is ‘no more’.

I woke up today wanting to stay under the doona and sleep it away. I don’t handle grief all that well.

Author: thegiftedbear

I'm a 36 year old Australian who, in the last 8 years, has been coming to terms with the fact that I am Gifted, and exactly what this means. Contrary to very popular belief about gifted people, this does not mean I have my life sorted, in fact, quite the opposite. This blog is about the highs and lows that I experience in my journey as I discover what being gifted means to me. I believe in love, romance, happy endings and silver linings. I believe we are never given more than we can handle, and everyone has a story if you just take the time to listen. I believe there are no coincidences and we can define ourselves by the people in our lives. I love my family, they are, and always will be, priority number one. Studying at uni, completing a Masters Degree in Gifted Education, with the view of setting up a foundation advocating for children on a global level. "Ideal teachers are those who use themselves as bridges over which they invite their students to cross, then having facilitated their crossing, joyfully collapse, encouraging them to create bridges of their own." -- Nikos Kazantzakis

One thought on “Grief.”

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