When my grandmother recently passed away at the age of 92, I found myself reflecting on the overall journey of our relationship together. It wasn’t always easy, and it didn’t start with warmth. When she came to the United States from the Philippines to help my mom take care of my sister and me, I was still in elementary school. Instead of feeling grateful, I struggled to connect with her. Our initial encounters were filled with tension, misunderstandings, and mutual frustration. Looking back, I now realize that what seemed like animosity was just the growing pains of two very different lives adjusting to coexist in a strange new world.
But tragedy has a way of breaking down barriers. When one of my grandmother’s seven children took his own life, the atmosphere around my family shifted. I was just a child, hiding in the stairwell, listening to my mom and grandmother cry and scream at each other in their native language about the news. I didn’t understand their words, but the emotions were unmistakable. Even at that young age, I intuitively knew that my grandmother was grappling with immense guilt, wishing she could have been there, maybe even to prevent what had happened.
That loss rippled through my family, creating an undercurrent of grief and tension that we all had to navigate. For me, it planted a seed of self-doubt, cultivating a need for validation that life was worth living and that I was worthy of love. It’s a feeling I carried for years, shaping how I approached not only my grandmother but also the rest of my family, friends, and the world around me.
A Christmas Connection
For a long time, I didn’t know how to bridge the gap with my grandmother. Then, one Christmas I used my birthday money to buy her a writing table. It was an unusual gift for a kid to choose, and initially, everyone thought it was odd. But when I explained that it would help her write and organize her letters to her children back in the Philippines, it clicked.
My grandmother spent so much time staying connected with her family, trying to ensure that no one else would feel the despair that my uncle had felt. In that moment, my family saw that I had been paying attention all along. Without needing to say it outright, they understood that I truly saw her and valued what mattered most.
From that Christmas onward, my relationship with my grandmother transformed. She became my fiercest supporter, and her approval extended to the rest of my family. It was as though that single gesture proved my worth, but this shift came with a weight. I became the one who was intentionally shouldering responsibility to help our family with their healing.
The Weight of Being “Good”
My grandmother had a saying for me: “You’re a good boy today. I don’t know about tomorrow.” While she was alive, I took this as her poking fun at my attempts to be seen as a “good boy.” But now that she has passed, her words seem to take on a deeper, almost ominous tone. It feels like she saw through my performance, not as something insincere, but as a deliberate choice that I was making to suppress my capacity for rebellion and to prove my worth.
Her passing brought an unexpected freedom. Without her physical presence, I no longer feel the need to perform so rigidly. Yet, I also feel her closer than ever, as if the language and cultural barriers between us have fully dissolved. Now, it’s as though I can communicate to her at the speed of thought, sharing feelings and reflections in a way that wasn’t possible when she was alive. This connection brings me peace, even as I navigate the complexity of grieving her loss.
The Inspiration Behind “Good Grief”
These reflections are what inspired my poem, Good Grief. Writing it allowed me to explore the paradox of grief, not to avoid mourning but to radically accept it as a process of realignment. For me, grieving the finality of death is to let go of the past versions of myself that I carried prior, honoring them without becoming weighed down. My grandmother’s life and her passing taught me that letting go doesn’t mean losing connection. Instead, it’s an opportunity for me to align with what matters most and step forward into a new version of my truth and authenticity.
Her journey, from heartbreak to resilience, from distance to connection, echoes much of the transformation that I’m going through in my life currently. And while her absence is felt, I know her presence continues to guide me in ways I’m still discovering. To have faith, to live freely, to answer the call to help carry a light for others in the face of adversity and loss, and to trust that in the end, we will all be reunited.
Good grief, indeed.
@mrglasco Good Grief#OriginalPoem #Poetry #Grief #Faith #God #Jesus #Peace #Love #Hope #Harmony #Heaven #Healing #Humanity #Spirituality #Creativity
Last Hope (Slowed + Reverb) – Steve Ralph
Good Grief
To grieve, is to practice what Jesus said, to “let the dead bury the dead,” as the version of you in the present is not the past version of you in your head.
But detachment from the past is not the same as condemnation, it’s the alignment to the assignment on your soul, and to its most authentic representation.
Therefore, a cemetery is where we bury a part of our past that is too heavy to carry, and while visitation is permitted, to take up residency is to be weary.
Because the Kingdom of Heaven embodies it all, like the life, from the light, from the sun. So, to live is to wake up, and to answer the call from beyond, where we are all reunited as one.
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