Last week someone, who has become quite important to our family over the past few months, recommended a book to me. The book is called Finding The Words. The author, Colin Campbell, lost two children in a car accident in 2019 and he writes about his journey with grief. I purchased the audiobook yesterday and began to listen to it this morning on my run. As I listened to the first chapter, I couldn't believe how closely the author's thoughts on grief aligned with my own experience and instincts. It felt as though I was somehow talking him through every keystroke he was making as he wrote his book. I probably looked quite odd to my fellow runners on the track this morning as I nodded by head aggressively as I ran while agreeing so passionately with so much of what I was hearing.
In this first chapter called "A Crash Course in Grief", he actually speaks about many of the things I have written here in earlier blog posts. Often using nearly identical words as I had. Speaking about others' tendency to say "there are no words", about how so many people worry about triggers and how they might affect the ones who are grieving and he talks about how grief "involves repeatedly leaning into the pain in spite of our fears". That last line that I quote directly from the book spoke a ton to me. Intuitively, that's been my approach towards my own grief. And this very blog and the act of writing as a form of expression is a big part of how I lean in.
Lastly, he spoke about something I haven't yet written about but that has been on my mind so much lately. He talks about grief being a communal exercise and the power of talking about the loved one(s) you lost. The exact quote from the book that stood out the most was "We need to give words to our pain. And that begins by talking about our grief and our dead loved ones to other people".
When Sofia was sick, I felt lonely. Not physically lonely. I had an incredible support network who showed up for me and Sam constantly. I felt mentally or emotionally lonely. While many of our friends and family cared deeply for Sofia, I didn't feel like anyone could truly relate to how I was feeling and coping. As I reflect back on that time, I realize now that I felt much more alone during that time than I had previously admitted to myself. And, yet, I sometimes feel even more lonely now. But for an entirely different reason.
I'm lonely now because I want so desperately to talk about Sofia every day. But most people I interact with daily either didn't know her at all or don't feel comfortable talking about her. Maybe they are worried how it might make me feel or maybe they are avoiding the pain it might cause to themselves. I certainly don't blame anyone for this. But I do hope that more people will soon join me in sharing memories of Sofia, laughing about funny stories, sharing their favourite pictures of her or simply telling me why they miss her so much. I love Sofia so much and I think about her constantly every single day. There's nothing in this world I would want to talk about more than about her. It brings some sadness and pain for sure....but so much more love, laughter and joy. When I'm talking about her or when others are talking to me about her, I feel so much more connected to her; as if she is right back with me. Even if that feeling is fleeting, it sure does feel incredible.
The book also talks about how it's the mourner's responsibility to be specific in how their community can help. Sounds unfair for sure but the author is probably correct. So I'll heed his advice and, for this specifically, what I need is for you to talk about Sofia with me when you're ready. You don't need to go out of your way, it doesn't need to be this incredible story or memory about her. Just talk about her the way you might talk about my other kids; or the way you would have talked about her when she was here.
I'll lead by example and share something about Sofia.
In late March, Sofia went to her friend Lauryn's birthday party. There must have been 15 kids at this party. Naturally, Sofia was the only one there who would be starting another round of chemotherapy and immunotherapy in 3 days. And knowing how that treatment would go, I know she likely wasn't feeling her best on that day. As I think back to how she was likely feeling in those final few weeks of her life, I can't imagine how much courage, strength and bravery it would have taken for her to do what she did. And, what she did was enjoy every single moment of her life as much as was humanly possible.
I wasn't actually there at this party but Sam was sending me photos and videos as it was happening. And now months later, I find myself looking at these same photos and videos more than most. And the reason why I do, and the reason why I'm sharing this story, is because in all of these photos, Sofia is so happy. When life had given her every reason not to be, she is the one smiling the brightest. She was such a special girl. And an inspiration to me forever.
This was beautiful Ryan. I would love to learn more about Sophia and talk about her with you when next we meet. Love to you all.
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