A couple of days ago, my sister and I were going through our camera rolls on our phones, scrolling through some old pictures and reminiscing. I came across a photo I had of our cat, Milo, who we sadly lost a couple of years ago. He was an absolute sweetheart and went missing one day, never to be seen again, meaning our family was not able to get any sort of closure regarding what happened to him.
It absolutely sucked, in retrospect.
When I stumbled across this image of Milo, I was excited to show it to my sister. I did, but her reaction caught me off guard; she seemed quite saddened, and in the moment, I felt annoyed.
I realize this makes me out to be a complete bitch, but hear me out.
My sister’s reaction was totally understandable, but it was not what I was expecting. I feel as though we should celebrate Milo’s memory as opposed to associating negative emotions with any reminder of him we experience; my sister is obviously in a different headspace regarding his disappearance and is therefore internalizing her grief in a manner not at all comparable to my own.
She and I chatted about the incident later, and I apologized to Danielle for my somewhat undesirable reaction to her own. I explained to her how I process his memory and absence in a way that obviously contrasts with her own, and she explained to me that she understood and thanked me for apologizing.
The chat my sister and I had allowed me to understand just how differently we process grief, even if the source of grief itself remains unchanged. Grief fails to be linear, nor does it come with a timeline after which it will miraculously dissipate. We handle it differently, and that is completely okay.
Photo by Paola Chaaya on Unsplash
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