Weakness is Vulnerability

21 Oct 2020

October 21st, 2017 9:00 pm

I remember getting the call from my mom that you had taken your last breaths. That you peaceably passed in the hospital room you had been in for about a week. You had been sick ever since I was 15 years old. I knew it was going to happen, but I thought I’d be ready. However, no one is truly ever ready to lose someone they love. I watched my sister break down into tears while I choked back mine. I held her until she cried herself to sleep that night. It was hard to comprehend that the next time we would visit, you wouldn’t be there. Your smile wouldn’t be waiting for us by the door. Your deep cheerful voice wouldn’t be there to say “You guys are so big!” Despite the fact that I was 19 and probably hadn’t grown an inch since my 17th birthday. I wouldn’t hear the same stories you ALWAYS told. It would just be your empty chair. A room locked up with all your stuff so my grandma wouldn’t have to sort through it. It would be barely bringing up your name again, in fear that someone would have a mental breakdown. It was the youngest cousins not understanding, still asking where you are, when you’re coming back.

I barely cried in front of my sister and never my parents or other family members. I remembered thinking that if i broke down in front of others, it would show them how weak and hurt I really was. I cried behind closed doors, in the silence of my dark bedroom often right before I went to sleep. Compressing my feelings, to me, seemed like the best thing to do in order to be strong for others around me. That way of thinking is what sent me into a declining mindset of depression. I almost always depressed what I was feeling, and it got to the point that even when I was behind closed doors, I didn’t let it out. I stared blankly into space and maybe a single tear would roll down my cheek. I just felt sad all the time. Everyday seemed to be another realization that you weren’t here anymore, like everything was happening all over again. People would try to console me, “You’ll see him again! He’s not in pain anymore!” These go-to phrases barely made me feel better. I was 19, are you telling me that I’m going to die tomorrow? Heaven had never felt so far away.

I was driving home from class one day and I casually just had the radio playing. Matthew West’s old song Save A Place For Me, started playing on the station. I remember reaching to change the station because I was not in the mood to listen to a song that was going to put me in my feelings, but my hand stayed frozen on the tuning button. I remember bawling my whole drive home listening to that song. I remember pulling up next to strangers at red lights, who probably thought I was a maniac. That same day, my husband(boyfriend at the time)came to pick me up, I remember sitting on the side of the road with him just going on and on about my grandpa. Stories poured out of my mouth and before I knew it, I was, yet again a big ball of tears. I cried until his shirt was soaked. I cried until I ran out of tears. He wiped my face and reminded me that crying doesn’t mean I’m weak. It means that I’m feeling. I’m actually showing that I cared, and that I’m hurting.

Being vulnerable, to me, is the greatest form of strength. Exposing your hurt, or your anger to others not only lets them know how you’re feeling, but it shows what a warrior you actually are. Because crying in silence is only you hiding away. Don’t get me wrong. Everyone still needs time to handle the situation. One or two cries probably won’t make you feel better, and it won’t help you move on immediately. It’s been three years since I lost my grandpa, and to this day I still feel that lump rise up in my throat when his name is mentioned. But it does get easier! I’m able to write this post. I’m able to share stories about him and how he impacted my life. I’m not afraid to let the tears fall if they come. One day I know that I will see him again. That day won’t be as soon as I would like, but the words “see you later” are significantly better than “goodbye”

- Megs

“To share your weakness makes you vulnerable, to make yourself vulnerable is to show your strength.” (Jami Crissi)