Notes on Grief

 Guyssssssssssss...

I have a testimony…

I overcame procrastination, yet again 🤧

So, for what seemed like forever, I was away...and today, I have returned..

Now, this is me dusting off the cobwebs here and wearing back my blogger hat...

But first, before we go all the way into this blog post, I offer you a salutation…

Aloha😃 

Welcome, welcome...

Welcome to my blog, dear readers.

I am Nan. C, (in case you forgot)

The first thing I want to say is; I know I've been away for five months. Like, five whole months fa…😥

I mean, where did time go, so soon? Phew!

Anyways, I'm here now and we'll continue from where we stopped. Which is, reviewing the book I talked about in my last post.

Book Title: Notes on Grief by Chimamanda Adichie.

I'll say something little on why I decided to read the book, and then select a couple of statements that resonated most with me and add my little two cents as well.

They are a lot, believe me. But I'll stick with a few for this post. 

Reason is, I don't expect you to not read the book cos of this review. But to anticipate reading it, even more.

Since that is clear now, you should be like 90% ready at this point...

And you won't wait any longer, don't worry.

The book title caught my attention because I have grieved before, and even very recently. As recent as last month.

As you read, note that words in italics are direct quotes from the book, while others are my thoughts.

So, while I am not exactly happy that I'm propelled to keep my word on reviewing this book by a very recent grief experience, I still believe like every good book out there, there's a lot to learn.

So, let's do this…

Notes on Grief by Chimamanda Ngozi Adichie, best-selling author of Half of a Yellow Sun and Americanah, is a heartbreaking piece on death and the people we've lost.

Chimamanda narrates how she handled the loss of her father. He died during the COVID 19 pandemic...On the 10th of June, 2020. He died from an infection that worsened an existing kidney disease.

I learned a lot from the book and I could relate to some things. One of which is how she usually forgot her dad was dead and would think of calling him to ask for something, then she'd remember. She called it a betrayal by her brain.

I can relate to this. When I lost one of my aunties, I had similar episodes. I remember two of them vividly. One Wednesday evening, I was going to buy pure water and I checked the time, thought to myself and said; aunty Nyenye will be back from work by now, I'd call her when I get home, then the not so pleasant reminder came..*deep sigh*

Back to the book, Chimamanda gives a detailed description of what happened, from the last zoom call with her father to the inexplicable ordeal of grieving while being a mom to a 4-year old, to her mother agreeing to go through the Igbo widowhood rights. 

But despite the intense personal suffering expressed, the book is a celebration of a daughter’s great love for her father. 

"Grief is a kind of education. You learn how ungentle mourning can be, how full of anger. You learn how glib condolences can feel. You learn how much grief is about language, the failure of language, and the grasping for language…"

"The failure of language, and the grasping for language"…you know, sometimes, words fail even your comforters and encouragers. And sometimes, when they are able to talk, it doesn't make sense to you. 

Deep sigh…

And I'll love to say this: permit yourself to grieve. Honor yourself enough to not ignore your emotions. Take out time to sort them and do just that. Cry, speak to someone, pray and do whatever it is. 

'Cos you need to heal and a wound that isn't tendered to will most likely remain there. Anything swept under the carpet will remain under the carpet, even your emotions.

I know we hear stuff like: take heart, stop crying, be strong, the person is in a better place now, and all that. I agree 100%.  But, these are all statements that should help us deal with it better, and not avoid it.

“Grief was the celebration of love, those who could feel grief were lucky to have loved.”

While we grieve, let us remember to 

celebrate the love we shared. Cos it's love that makes you grieve.

"I am changed. A new voice is pushing itself out of my writing, full of the closeness I feel to death, the awareness of my mortality, so finely threaded, so acute. A new urgency. Impermanence in the air. I must write everything now, because who knows how long I have?"

Come to think of it, how much time do we have on earth?  Not to put fear in your heart, but death respects no one. Young or old...and what I find most painful is that it leaves people with dashed hope.

You begin to think of things you should have said or done to/with/for them that you didn't get the opportunity to do. Can be a really sad place to be sha.

"I finally understand why people get tattoos of those they have lost. The need to proclaim not merely the loss but the love, the continuity…it is an act of resistance and refusal, grief telling you that it is over and your heart saying that it is not, grief trying to shrink your love to the past and your heart saying that it is present."

The lockdown made things more difficult as airports were shut down and she and her siblings who were outside the country couldn't fly into Nigeria. The burial date remained tentative for a while cos of this. Mortuaries were filled because the pandemic had delayed funerals. It made the mourning process even more painful.

"Happiness becomes a weakness because it leaves you defenseless in the face of grief. It is a testament to my parents that each of the six of us feels individually, intimately, known, and loved. And so we mourn differently. Yet ‘people mourn differently’ is easy for the intellect to absorb, but for the heart, it is much harder. We don’t know how we will grieve until we grieve."

We don't know how we will grieve until we grieve. People grieve differently and there's nothing wrong with that. She mentioned how mourning was different for each of them. 

"One night, in a vivid dream, my father comes back. He is sitting on his usual sofa in the living room in Abba, and then at some point, it becomes the living room in Nsukka. The hospital made a mistake. What about my brother Okey’s visits to the mortuary? Also a case of mistaken identity. I am ecstatic but worried it might be a dream, and so, in the dream, I slap my arm to make sure it is not a dream, and still, my father is sitting there talking quietly. I wake up with a pain so confounding that it fills up my lungs. How can your unconscious turn on you with such cruelty?"

That was her recalling a dream she had.

The last time she saw her dad was on the 5th of March, she had traveled home to spend the weekend with both parents, record some of the stories he had told her over the years about his grandmother, his father, and his childhood.

She however didn't get to do them as it was usually postponed to "next time"

Before and after her dad's demise, she also lost 2 of her aunties. One maternal and the other paternal. It was a low moment, making her write the conclusion that;

 "The layers of loss make life feel papery thin, the awareness of my mortality, so finely threaded, so acute. A new urgency. Impermanence in the air. I must write everything now, because who knows how long I have?"

One thing I still struggle with is how to address them, I mean those that have gone before us... Using past tense just sounds like my brain betraying my heart...

Having shared some of my favorite quotes from the book, I'll now go ahead to mention some life lessons I learned. 

I learned a thing or two about parenting. She had a great relationship with her dad. He was a role model to her, her siblings, and her mum. I learned to believe in and affirm my children, it helps their self-esteem. She says that's probably why she doesn't believe in failure.

Also, I learned that we should become all God wants us to be so that our children can have a close example, pointing them towards believing in who they can become.

Her dad was an academician, a Professor of Statistics at the University of Nigeria, Nsukka, and then a vice Chancellor. He taught her math as she prepared for her GCE (you see why you should have sense abi? A whole generation awaits you)

I learned to value family relationships even more. During the lockdown, her family usually had zoom calls. Father, mother, she, and her siblings. The distance wasn't a barrier, thank God for the internet. Two of her siblings would connect from Lagos, some from Abba, and she from the U. S.. they'd talk and connect as a family. They had and shared lots of family jokes.

Goals mehn!!!

I look forward to growing old with my siblings and not growing apart. I desire that as the family expands, more relationships should be formed and we would become closer too. This I hope in Jesus' name (dear siblings, hello!)

Her father believed in her and showed it. From giving her rich compliments to correcting her firmly. She shares a story of when she would travel for speeches and would share her itinerary with him, then he'd follow up with affirmative words like; "Go and shine. Ome ife ukwu!" (A statement in Igbo which translates to someone that does great things.)

Parents should believe in their children and communicate it to them. It's a beautiful thing and it does something beautiful to their minds…

There are many more lessons about life generally and you would discover them as you read…

I'll drop the pen at this point so you can enjoy the book free of what some of you call spoilers...I'm rolling my eyes at you sha...

Finally, a big group hug for all who have grieved or are grieving. Remember, you feel real grief because you loved…

Plus, we don't grieve as those without hope, let these words comfort you forever. As believers, we know Jesus is with us even as we mourn...

And we'd see those we've lost someday. We take solace in the scriptures.

And our tears will be wiped away...now, this is something to rejoice about, 'cos ain't no comforter like The Comforter Himself.

Now, hurry, go read and lemme know what stood out to you in the comments section.

Have you read the book and think there's something to be added? Or you just want to share your experience of grief and how you handled it, to encourage a brother or sister…

Let's continue this conversation in the comments section, shall we?

Remember I said this is a testimony??

It'd be permanent when you read, comment and share...

T for thanks.😘

Love and Light,

Nancita✨