Grief and that unrelenting yearning

[Trigger warnings: loss, death of parent, grief.]

Ten days ago, the weekend I was staying with my closest climbing buddy and his partner, after my solo hike on Sunday I could feel this lump in my throat, this knot in my chest as I relaxed. Grief. Grief that needed to be honored and released. 

I put on the song “Inkpot Gods” by The Amazing Devil and the tears finally came: sobs. Sobs out loud and jumbled words in my mind related to a terribly painful yearning that will never be satisfied: the yearning for my father and for my European (gender)queer ex-lover, both tangled together.

A couple days ago, on Tuesday evening, with my body and mind relaxed after getting a massage from my closest nonbinary/transmasc friend who’s studying to become a massage therapist, as the song “Somewhere over the rainbow” by Israel “IZ” Kamakawiwo’ole came on, I unraveled and the lump in my throat melted into sobs again. This time the only words going through my head were, “I want my daddy”. As my friend put their hand on my chest, on my heart, and held space for me, I didn’t dare utter those words out loud, lest they be too much for my friend — maybe too much even for me. But those words were screaming in my head — that child was screaming in my head. 

Yesterday I went on a hike in the mountains with my oldest climbing buddy from Colorado: our first long drive together, our first time spending many hours together and doing something different from climbing (because of my wrist injury). And as we were driving up into the canyon my buddy shared some extremely personal and vulnerable experiences and emotions with me, including the fact that this week had been the third anniversary of his father’s death. That allowed me to also share that I had lost my dad last summer, just over a year ago. My friend held space for me and then asked me how I felt about it. And I shared with him some things I have hardly ever said to anyone explicitly (other than some things I’ve written here and/or mentioned to my runner & former-neighbor friend). 

Last night I went to sleep feeling a desperate need to be held. 

This morning I woke up with a similar yearning. 

At breakfast, I told my housemate that I’m struggling with an unexpected return of grief and as they replied kindly I felt the wave wash over me again, tears welling up in my eyes, the lump in my throat and knot in my chest loosening up a little, until the tears started streaming down my face, almost sobs. And again that voice in my head: “I want my dad. I lost my dad and will never have him back again”.

Goddammit. Grief bites us in the butt when we least expect it. And to have this wave of grief washing over me now is really tricky — this is a very delicate state of mind & heart for me to be in for this weekend’s retreat with the gay men’s chorus… it puts me in a very vulnerable state and that worries me.