The “ correct” way to grieve?

The summer after my dad passed away my mother sent my sister and I to a grief camp called “Camp Erin.” At the time, I was extremely confused by the term grief, what I was or wasn’t supposed to be feeling, and all that the term “grieving” was supposed to encompass. I was given grief books, grieving activities, and numerous talks from adults about how their parents also passed away. We would do activities like take hikes and along the way pick up rocks with emotions on them, and then link those emotions to how we felt about the death of our family member. Nothing was computing in my head and the words “I can’t even fathom what you’re going through” kept being thrown at my face. Now, don’t get me wrong, the love and support I got from friends, families, and strangers was immense and something I am forever thankful for. At such a small and fragile age (puberty literally smacking my in my face at the same exact time, middle school destroying my self confidence, and dentists/ doctors relentlessly telling me all the things I don’t want to hear.) the love I received (and my family received) is something I could never put into words how much I appreciated every comment, text, and hug. Having to learn how to explain to people my dad died and how he died was very complex. Then learning how to comfort people after explaining how my dad died, because the stigma around the conversation of death is heavily associated with sadness and awkward “I’m sorrys” was something I was not prepared to do. Going to Camp Erin gave me a good platform to learn how to express my emotions and meet people the same age as me who had lost a family member as well. The camp was extremely intense and I was being told that grieving is sad and sadness is the main associating linked with death. The camp molded my way of dealing with grieving and gave me a path to not only support myself, but how to support OTHERS when explaining death. The camp, at the time, was something I really needed. And it still means a great deal to me. I met some of the most supportive people, most of whom I still talk to. I found out one of my friends from middle school had lost her brother the same year, and she came with me to the camp. I met a girl one year who lost her dad as well, and the next who lost her mother. We formed an unbreakable bond that I am forever grateful for. Having the ability to still reach out at them at any time, no matter how long we go without talking, is really powerful. Meeting someone who went through the same experience as you, at the same age, is really comforting. The biggest way I found comfort was through the people I met at camp. My mom always told me that she loved being Jewish because it automatically gave her something to talk about with other Jews. Like a little community had already been built wherever you go and you can chant Hava Nagila where ever you go together, but meeting kids who have lost a relative at 12 years old? That can really give you something in common. I spent the next 5 years looking at my father’s death as just a sad, disgusting, horrible part of my life that should never be spoken about. He shouldn’t be spoken about. Don’t elaborate on the subject. People get uncomfortable with death. People don’t like talking about dead people. Dead people are sad and we look at them as dead. We value their death more than their life. Grieving will end. You will be ok. Life goes on….

All those words circled in my head for five years. Etched in very secure so I would know how to deal with the conversation. It became very rehearsed.

“what do your parents do”

“my mom is a writer my dad was a writer, producer, director…he did it all”

“was?”

“he passed away”

“when”

“ when I was 12”

“oh…..i’m sorry”

“it’s ok”

“ can I ask how?”

“yeah it’s this rare disease called amyloidosis it’s a pre-cancerous cell that slowly destroys your body. It reaches your heart, and kills you pretty much”

“oh…I’m sorry”

“yeah it’s okay thanks what did you have for lunch today?”

and back to acting like nothing happened. I became responsible for healing other’s people’s awkwardness. I knew that other people’s reactions would be the same every time and I had to be there to help them through it. I had to be ready, because right after they asked how, it immediately was my job to fix what I broke. Right? I broke the conversation? Because I mentioned death? Imagine a 13 year old at cooking camp having to explain to all her friends that her dad died and then make a salad with them. You don’t need to imagine to know it was not normal. I tried to experiment and talk about my dad more. Bringing up how funny he was, how much I was like him, how he really liked urban outfitters pants, but nothing worked. After they knew he was dead his name would be associated with death, and then awkwardness. At a young age I didn’t know this was something I could change, it was much easier for my mind to trust what other people were telling me to do and I let it do that.

P.S thank you Maya, Harper, and Julia—the strength and comfort and love you guys gave me at Camp Erin is something I will eternally be grateful for.