I had a favorite hair pin.
Yes, a hair pin.
My sister gave it to me, about a decade ago. It keeps the strands pinned properly, no matter what. It stays put.
About ten days ago, I lost it on the way back home from a walk. I had a tendency to lose hair accessories, but I always had a way of remembering where I've put this particular pin, or it would just show up amongst my things (you know, when you're not looking for something you misplaced).
That pin stuck to anything I clamped it on, and yet 10 days before my sister's first death anniversary, I lost it. I was a few meters from the house, and I turned back, all the way from where I've been to, just to look for it.
While paying attention to the ground, and searching for that Jean-Louis-David pin, I was trying to understand what happened.
It was just a hair pin.
Maybe, it was my sister's way of telling me to let her go, because I still haven't.
Not really.
I mean, it's a work in progress.
Her name was Maria Victoria, and I've always been proud of our 22-year age difference (yes, from the same parents) because we were able to bridge that age gap. Every time she would come home from working abroad every other year, we would sit, drink, and talk late into the night; like what sisters do.
We were supposed to meet up this year. I wanted to plan it early, but she recommended talking about it later on. I agreed.
It's a bit difficult when every member in your family lives in different continents. You can't go to each other in case of an emergency, and maintaining constant communication is difficult because of the time zone differences.
Then, she died. I did not even get the chance to see her before she passed away.
The thoughts going through my mind while desperately hoping I would find the hair pin were: letting go, reminiscing the fun we had, still hoping I'd find the pin, and how to accept that I've lost it if I don't find it.
Then I saw it.
That pin was on the grass, and nobody crushed it to pieces (from ongoing bike, skates, and possible stroller traffic).
I picked it up, relieved.
Somehow, it felt like something had been lifted off my shoulders.
Was it me letting go of the pain?
Have I finally come to terms with her passing?
I remembered a conversation I had with a friend whose father died recently. She is still grieving and asked me when the pain would stop. I said that I don't think it will. I think the pain will hurt just as much every time she remembers the moment he left, as if it had just happened. Though, she will be able to manage it.
In time, she will learn to accept his passing.
I also told my friend that I found peace with what my sister usually asks me to do: to always keep an open line of communication with her offsprings. I've been doing that, and I still do.
I also told my friend, I believe that we all exist to fulfill certain roles in different peoples' lives, and we have things to accomplish. We get to complete most of them, but there are those that are left for family members to bear. If we could try to continue and help those who left us in doing that, we might find comfort in the thought that fulfilling some of their unfinished business will give them peace.
But before all these actions can be made; this part of managing grief, there is a time where one just dwells in sorrow of a family member's passing. One may choose to just cry it out all the time or take a vacation away from the chaos of the city. Others keep to themselves and not talk about the pain for as long as they could. Some even stay out late at night drinking and partying with friends so as to avoid and not remember the pain of such loss.
It is because we grieve in different ways, and we shouldn't be judged because of the actions we make during this time. As long as one is not hurting oneself or others, it is considered a way of coping with the situation.
When one is ready, then one can fully act on what will keep one's sanity at bay, and managing this grief. Have faith that time heals and believe that each day will be easier than the last.
