The Weird Rituals of Grief
Grief hits different on dates that remind you of deep loss that you can’t escape.
It’ll have you creating rituals so unlike your normal ones, that you start to wonder how much control one really has over their own behavior.
Every time I pass the street of the house that my Jie Jie (older sister) Sushu used to live in, I wave past the houses that obscure my ability to see hers. I imagine my hand hovering in front of her old door, suspended in the air, tempted to knock but resolute to not because it knows the truth.
When I have the time, I pull into her neighborhood and sit in front of the place she hosted Bible studies and game nights. And I laugh. I weep. I close my eyes to remember her face without the help of Facebook or Instagram. A gallery of memories of her smile and an internal audio recording of her laugh resound in my mind as i ponder what today represents for me and many that knew Sushu for way longer than I got to.
It’s been one year since we lost her, and my friendship with Sushu had only gone for 3 years before her sudden death. We took to each other very quickly. We shared an interest in similar books, and an even greater interest of curating spaces where people felt safe to cry and free to be who their souls were crying out for them to be.
I miss her a lot. And our friendship was just starting.
Tragedy rearranges our bodily expectations. I know what it’s like to not want to get too close to someone whose life mesmerizes me. The separation between you and a beloved friend by way of death threatens to stifle rekindling beloved friendship with another.
It may take a long while to take so much delight in someone again because of the trauma of death. But perhaps the memories of the beloveds we’ve all lost can help us create rituals that reenergize us rather than crumble us.
The hole of their absence is eternal as far as this life goes, and that can’t go unspoken. The weird rituals that make their ways out of us in moments of despair because of loss definitely indicate the depth of that loss. But maybe they also remind us that it’s worth creating memories with others. These moments of grief can find consolation in the generosity of a stranger whose personality mirrors (but doesn’t replace) our loved ones who have departed.
Sushu Wang, April 16, 2024 is just as hard as April 16, 2023. We miss you. One more karaoke night of singing Jay Chou songs would be miraculous indeed.
See you soon, Jie Jie. I love you.
Also, I can’t believe we never took a picture together in 3 years 😂🥹
Luh y’all big time,
Ru.
This is beautiful and so very sad.
I also feel sad that you emoji-laughed that last line. It was sad, too. 🫂