Hard Calls

“Of course we care! You’re a part of us.” I’ll never forget these words my mother spoke to me when I told her of my friend’s recent passing. I had been putting off the conversation, delaying my fairly regular phone home for much longer than normal. I know it must have seemed weird to them. I call my parents multiple times a week while I’m running errands or out for a walk. After my friend’s passing, I was thrown into grief and its rituals, such as surrounding myself with the people that knew her and preparing food to offer at shiva. I’m fairly open with my family, but I did not want to admit to my parents that my dear friend had chosen to take her own life and that my world was suddenly subsumed by her absence. It’s not easy to be vulnerable with family. I’ve grown so accustomed to sharing my success with them—my achievements—or at worst, my minor inconveniences. Luckily, I do not often find myself swept sideways by grief, and the fact that I was upended by a suicide made the phone call all the more daunting.

It’s not easy to be vulnerable with family.

Of course, it is the perpetual plight of a child to forget that their parents have lived long, complex lives far before we were ever born—lives that they often keep hidden from us. I was so worried about telling my parents what was going on in my life that I forgot the likelihood that they too had experienced this type of grief before. Not only had my mom gone through this, she was able to offer me something far greater than understanding or insight. She offered me comfort. Comfort—it wasn’t something that I realized I needed from my parents. I thought I was just coming clean with what was going on in my life and letting them know why I had fallen out of touch. I rarely forget just how smart my parents are, but I often see my own challenges as unique or wildly different from the experiences they’ve had to face. The truth is we’re all just going through this life and death for the first time together, and my parents just happen to have a 30-year lead on me. When one gets to be as grown and capable as I think I am, it’s easy to forget that your parents still have more to offer. I was putting off telling my parents about my friend and my grief. At the time, I didn’t realize just how healing talking to them would be for me.