By Chia Chia Cheng, MTOM, Dipl. NCCAOM, CNMP
At first I thought the grief I felt was unjustified. I barely knew him. Yet, I knew him briefly.
On the tails of COVID and the lives that ignited BLM came news of this young man’s death. A car accident in the middle of the night. It happened at the intersection of where I had lived for 15 years.
When my daughter texted me a photo of his memorial, I started crying. The grief hit me hard in that moment.
I mourned his death. 6 weeks before his 17th birthday. All the firsts that he would not experience. The eternal grief of his parents and siblings. How the collective grief ripples on and on.
As the winds calmed and the smoke changed the color of the sky, I felt the grief sink deeper into my body. It is a necessary stage, I told myself. Just be with it.
I supposed I was in shock on Monday. In denial on Tuesday. I felt depression in my spirit on Wednesday and in my body on Thursday.
Friday afternoon I painted the doors to my office a red called Hearthrob. I sent healing energy with each brush stroke. In no particular direction. To my surprise I felt a release from this simple act.
This morning I woke up with the words of Maya Angelou on my mind. “When times are hard, use poetry to carry you through it.” (my paraphrase)
Then these words came to me.
ODE to NICHOLAS
Wrong place, wrong time
This kept playing in my head
Your not going home is
Your parents nightly dread
Right place, good times
You touched so many lives
We will all miss you
Your death doesn’t seem right
I will remember you
“I’ll love you forever–”
Because I knew you
My life became better
Thank you for being. Take good care of yourself.
Be well. Stay connected.
