Greif - Tumblr Posts
I hate when characters' deaths are just shrugged off like nothing in shows.
Especially when it's called a family dynamic in the show and all we have is a brief moment of a cry or something and then it's barely mentioned again?? Or if it is it's in such a deluded way?? We don't get to see them actually grieve as they would.
And it would add so much more (in my opinion), to see them grieve, and not just shrug off the death of their supposed "found family member." Or whoever it may be.
New stages of grief just dropped
Numbness
Anger
Depression
Bed rotting/Isolation
Denial
That's it. You just live in denial with the rest of these stages making another unwanted appearance every once in a while. You actually only enter the denial stage because you feel bad about ghosting everyone.
I'm actually on my apology tour right now (Blitzø I get you so much because as it turns out I am also an asshole)
People who expect you to explain your grief. Are people who have no idea how exhausting it is; to repeatedly be reminded by them of how you will carry it till your final breath. It is a broken record that does not always need to be heard by someone who cannot hear the music.
I am so much older while you remain timeless.
A boy and a woman;
A ghost and a dreamer.
- HB
I wish I could stop searching for you in the eyes of strangers.
- HB
I wish I had the ability to step into the afterlife and give those I’ve lost one final hug.
Tomorrow is the anniversary of your death.. It's been a few years now, but it doesn't seem to make it any easier.. a huge part of me died along with you that day. I've been trying to find a new normal but I don't know how. The change was too big.. and I'm tiered.
I love you and I miss you 🖤
... And then when he died, I became the father. All is according to plan.
Grandpa died an hour ago.
I’m not sure how I feel. Hearing my father cry over the phone before he abruptly hung up puts the whole situation in a more acutely verifiable light than did my mother breaking the news, which simply put me in shock. And shock, though immediately jolting, is actually quite a numbing sensation once it settles.
In a patriarchal society such as China, the death of a father’s father is a deeply transformative ordeal. The family unit is central to Chinese culture, philosophy and political science. Everyone is now looking to my father, the youngest of his siblings but the only brother to his three sisters, to lead the family into mourning.
My father is grieving in a way that I can’t understand because since I left China at three years old, I had only a cross-continental relationship with my grandparents. To me, my grandfather was an obstinate man. That’s what I know him for primarily. He survived nearly 10 years on dialysis when younger victims of acute kidney failure maxed out at eight on average. After he was hospitalized a week ago after partying too hard at my cousin’s wedding banquet, he repeatedly tried to escape.
But then what made my grandfather human to me was a story my mother once told me about him when all I personally knew of the man was his short temper and his illness.
When my grandfather was young and his mother passed away, he had been presented with the challenge of finding a place to bury her. Back then, Chinese families were buried in clan plots. My great-grandmother was either a divorced, illegitimate or second wife to my great-grandfather, but in any case she was not an actual member of the Du clan. She could not be buried in the Du plots nor her maiden family’s plots because she had technically married. Thus, my grandfather personally begged each household of his father’s family to allow him to bury his mother on their land, carrying her ashes from door to door.
No, I don’t think I’ve ever heard my father cry, but what unsettles me more than that are my dry eyes. I don’t want to over-analyze my feelings toward my grandfather. There are lots of things I don’t understand about him, such as his feelings toward his American granddaughter for one.
Respect is all my family asks. This is where the etiquette of mourning comes into play. Ritual covers for awkward, ambiguous feelings.
Grief happens in funny ways
My dad passed this year and we weren’t very holiday-y kinda family
But we did go to dollar tree
Today at dollar tree I remembered him throwing together parts from dollar tree to make me gifts I genuinely loved
He didn’t have much to give but when he had dollar he’d bring you a pack of candles
I wish he had the opportunity to live in the world I’m getting to grow into
Where Less autistic people were struggling to keep their head above water in even such simple ways as knowing your not the biggest burden to ever live and are able to have self worth
I wish he was able to get better but I will keep sharing info on high functioning autism and remind people high functioning isn’t low struggling
I miss him i wish he got better
I love him including that he was a mess he was a lovely mess that many people cherished but couldn’t love himself
Mary’s Boy
credits to the rightful owner: AltheaDavis @writerandweeper on TikTok
The hardest thing to do.
Forgive our mistakes are always the hardest thing to do.
Indeed, how can we forgive the person who are the closest to ourselves, and who had made ourselves suffer with impunity ?
- My biggest demon is the excellence which I've obliged myself to adopt.
- Why ?
- Because of that, I've forgot that I was human.
Unknown