thirty-something
âyour thirties will be so much better than your twentiesâ, thatâs what they all say. i think âbetterâ might be subjective. my third decade of existence has brought me many answered prayers. but my third decade of existence has also brought loss. in my childhood, in my teens and even in my twenties i would spend hours in prayer asking God to keep my loved ones safe and keep their hearts beating. it was a cry of desperation; long before i knew any real heartbreak or loss. i believed that if i pleaded enough, God would keep them alive forever.
i paid special attention to my grandparents, being careful to perfectly enunciate each word and each plea. my grandparents were my superheroes, my protectors, the beginning and end of every story i lived, their home was my safe haven. they were my baseline, my safety net, my shelter through the storms, my true north. my grandparents were evidence of unconditional love. i wanted my grandparents to live forever. and i somehow believed they would. but they didnât. my grandfather dropped dead on the morning of January 17th, 2017, only a few hours after we shared a meal together and he sent me home with a sweet treat and left overs from our supper. my grandmother phoned me at 3.17 that morning. it felt like i had been hit in the face with a bag of locks. i saw my grandfather, a pillar, my father figure, laid face down in his bedroom, my pillar had fallen. my grandfather died as he had lived â with quiet impact, leaving little disturbance in his wake.
eight years later, on February 5th, 2025, my grandmother died. it was slow and painful. we had to watch her go. a little more each day. slowly becoming less and less of herself. it was cruel and horrible. it was torture. i think a big part of me died watching my grandmother die. my prayers went from begging God to keep my grandparents alive forever to me asking God to please take my grandmother so she wouldnât have to be in such turmoil anymore.
i donât think you can adequately describe the anguish that comes from asking for the death of someone you once hoped would live forever. how could I possibly be the same after that?
when my grandmother finally passed on the first words I uttered were to God - a prayer of thanksgiving. it wasnât about me. i was grateful for her. she was free. grief will change you. it will alter your brain chemistry and your perception and your thoughts. it will sneak into your dreams and take up permanent residence in your mind and your heart. it will mould you and reshape you. grief will take the taste from your tongue and strip away your ability to see colour. you will stand in a field of bright, blooming flowers with songbirds on a glorious summers day and see nothing, smell nothing, hear nothing. feel nothing.
my grandparents are gone now. and i am here. my comfort is that one day we will reunite. i will find my true north. for now, i embark on my third decade, with many an answered prayer, and counting. with many a lesson learned, and counting. bleeding, and counting. mourning, and counting. laughing, and counting. crying, and counting. grieving, and counting. grateful, and counting. smiling, and counting. thirty one, and counting.
