I was around 7 when we first met, and Henry was nearly 22. Right off the bat, I was a tiny little bit of a spirited thing and I guess I stole his heart with my little voice and stubbornness, because we quickly befriended each other. During the eight years that we knew each other, Henry was always there when I need a laugh, some comfort, advice or for lack of better words, "a diary". Henry was always encouraging me, helping me learn new tasks. He was the first to try and teach me to dance and in many of the attempted tasks, I fell. He'd lean over, laughing with me as he picked me up or carried me to the chair. I really only laughed at my falls around him; I felt the most comfortable around him, the most understood, and I wasn't afraid to laugh at myself every now and again in his company.
When I got into my teens, my parents let him join the family once a month for dinner outings.
During that time especially, my father was exceptionally sick and I did not have too much bonding time with him because he was either sick or working very hard in the family business. My mother, bless her, had her hands overflowing with the duties of caring for my brother's and my needs, and also my father's, and my aging grandmother. Though I had a very loving childhood and wonderful family, I still yearned for that closeness. Around that time, I was also enduring incredible verbal bullying nearly everyday and had started to label myself with the negative remarks.
Henry loved to debate, and soon exhausted my folks of the discussions, so around age 14, we started having our own dinner outings once a month. I grew to really look forward to these nights. Henry always took me to my favorite fast food restaurant and we'd talk for hours (we talked as much as the other). Henry taught me wonderful things about subsistence farming, certified Organics and we'd get into philosophical discussions as I got older.
But he was very disciplined when it came to certain things like technology and food. He only owned a car and computer because his job required a long commute and lots of paperwork, but he didn't own a TV or a cell phone, and rarely went online or checked his emails. He loved to work on his house or garden. His Mennonite lifestyle intrigued me, but not enough to put down my phone. That was one thing he detested - he would take the battery out if my cell phone until after dinner, and would remind me not to be "vain" or too prideful.
Sometimes, just to tease him, I'd wait until he was looking my way to take a selfie or to check my reflection in the window. Eventually, he got tired of eating a non-certified organic salad in a non-recyclable container, and just decided to order my food and sit and listen to me share my heart. We'd laugh and joke all the time, and talk about anything and everything under the sun, namely nature and medicine. He'd wait until I was ready to leave even if he had work to do at home. He was like a big brother to me and I cherished his friendship.
"It's not gonna be the same without you," he had said, helping me up the stairs on the 7th of January, 2011. Two weeks before, after asking him why he was so pensive, he had simply said, "I will tell you when you need to know, not when you want to." Typical.
He stood up from the couch on the 7th and walked down the stairs, said goodnight and went out to his car. Only a week into the new year, and that was the last thing he ever said to me, "goodnight." And on the 12th, the next week, I saw him for the last time.
He left. I had no closure, really as to why he left, but he left. It ate at my heart to know that he was somewhere continuing on, experiencing a new chapter in his life, while I still wanted a chance to at least truly say "goodbye" and tell him how thankful I was for what he had done for me and my family. I never got that chance, and even though I hold on to the hope, that maybe one day we will run into each other, I know it's unlikely. I pray for him. That's all I can do.
For the next two years, he came back to my mind often, but with my slew of ER visits, my suicide attempt and heavy 10-month depression, I sort of forgot about him. In October of that year, I permanently accepted Christ and slowly began to heal from any sadness or frustration related to my health issues. It wasn't until my 18th birthday that I really noticed his absence and truly began to miss him. I had forgotten most of what he looked like and how he sounded, and though my family and friends comforted me, they also advised me to "let him go."
But there are some subtle differences between "letting go" and "moving on."
Letting go is the inevitable act of saying goodbye because of death. It takes a conscious effort to let a loved one rest in peace and not beat yourself up in grief over their passing. It means grieving in a balanced, healthy way and for celebrating their life in what you do and say. The memory of them lives on in your heart as you move on to a future that would bless them and you.
Moving on, in my opinion, is more about coming to terms with the fact that just about everything happens for a reason. It's about being willing and now able to find your way without having to have that certain person hold your hand. They were a marker in your life, and they contributed wonderful wisdom and love to it, but eventually, they became not needed anymore, because all of what they taught you, you hold in your heart. You both have new chapters to face in the future and are willing to honor their memory in the things you do and say. For me, one way I honor Henry's memory is by wearing my kerchiefs.
Obviously, the two are weaved, but I hope these subtle differences help you determine the best way to grieve, whatever type of loss you face. Both are all about learning to dance in the rain. Remember that with the biggest storms, come the most rain, and with the most rain, comes the biggest harvest, and in this case, a the harvest is a celebration of gratitude for the ways our "lost" loved ones touched our lives for the better.
MY TIPS FOR HOW TO DANCE IN THE RAIN AND WHY:
1.) Get closure & accept it: realize that the first step to healing from a loss is knowing and accepting why it happened. It brings closure and can help you understand that your love one is either at peace, or - in the event of an absence - was meant to be a part of your life only when you needed them. If you remember them, they will be there when you want them with you - in your heart.
2.) Let yourself grieve: no matter how the loss of a loved one happened, it is still a painful experience, and you understand that there is nothing wrong with feeling hurt and sad. You take time to meditate on memories, pray or let yourself cry when you feel a wave of grief come, because it helps clear your mind and re-energize you. Your heart becomes lighter and you move on with your day aware of how much you loved each other.
3.) Honor their memory: you take time to remember them, whether it be by starting a tradition related to one of their passions, naming a new child after them, talking about them to friends and family, doing an "in memory of" social media post, or listening to their favorite music. This ensures that you are also remembering the good in the life that they shared with you and also respect them and still think very highly of their contributions to your life.
4.) Do a little "exposure therapy": by purposely putting yourself in a situation or location that brings up difficult memories of your loved one, you are slowly allowing yourself to learn how to "live again" or "move on in memory of them" with your life. By visiting the places your loved one enjoyed being in, you can sometimes let the memory hug you as if they were there.
5.) Make only little changes: you honor their memory by continuing to do things that loved one enjoyed, be it holidays, outings, family activity night, etc, and you do it with a cheery heart. Sometimes though, keeping thing 'exactly' the same can be very hard, so you may want to change little things, while keeping the most important things the way they were. For example, if your loved one's favorite holiday was Christmas and you always used to have presents all over the room, and your loved one loved watching on the couch, you could put the presents in that empty space and rearrange them. By doing this, notice how that special spot remains filled, and with wonderful things no less?