Photo I took at my uncle’s house in Central Kentucky two weeks ago
I have this Google Doc that contains all of the quotes I’ve loved from the books I’ve read. Every time I read something new, if a line or a paragraph gives me pause or makes me stop/think/laugh/cry/smile, I make a note and it goes into my doc.
I used to write everything down in a journal but over time, all things seem to become digitized, so here we are. Plus, it makes it easier to keep up with it on the go.
I used to think I transcribed other people’s words because I wanted to be better at my craft—like that old story about Hunter S. Thompson transcribing The Great Gatsby and A Tale of Two Cities. Because someday, I too wanted to write words that affected people so much they’d stop and write them down.
But now that I’m older, I don’t think that anymore. I think I’m compelled to write those words down because I see myself reflected in them, and seeing yourself in other people is important. It’s a lifeline when things feel too difficult.
My uncle died unexpectedly over a month ago. I got the news in the middle of a workday, and I tried not to think too much about it. I kept working. “Maybe I’m better at grief now,” I thought, “after losing my grandmother.”
Then two days later, I found myself on the floor of my office, pulling out every single old photo I owned, desperately searching for proof that my uncle was the person I remembered him as—this charismatic, charming giant of a man from my childhood. I wanted validation that I hadn’t imagined him. I wished that I could rewind time and tell him about some of those memories. I felt stupid for thinking we’d inevitably see each other again.
In that moment, I realized I was not “better” at grief. There was no such thing. If anything, my grief was cumulative and this one hurt more than the ones that came before because now I knew what lay ahead of me.
I texted my aunt that night and asked her, “Do you think that he knew that his family loved him?”
“I tried so hard to tell him every time I talked to him how much I loved him,” she replied. “I pray that he knew.”
The next week, Davey and I traveled to Kentucky for an impromptu memorial to celebrate my uncle’s life and that of my grandfather, who died in late 2020 during the pandemic. And I looked around and thought, once again, about how profound it is to realize that others are having the exact same experience as you.
You don’t feel so alone when your cousin asks you to weigh in on the eulogy and you write out your thoughts for her and she responds, “This is further affirmation of the feelings I have.” You don’t feel so unmoored when another cousin stands in front of everyone, and he’s crying as he recounts a memory that you could’ve sworn was yours, but it’s his, too, and it somehow makes things hurt less for you.
Later that evening, we all shared memories of my grandfather, who died peacefully in his recliner, and people ate and laughed. “This is a great way to end the day,” someone said, and I agreed.
After that brief time with my family, I feel both the hurt and the healing happening inside of me. I’m getting married in a few weeks, and I miss my grandmother more than ever. I wish both sides of my family could remain whole forever.
I came home and I pored over my document full of other people’s words and without realizing it, started teasing out the ones about grief and loss and family. I’m sharing them below, in case this helps any of you feel less alone.
In the driveway of the old house, I released my biological family from my unreasonable expectations of how much we could possibly be to one another. How much I expected them to teach me. Do for me. And this freed them to be what they actually are to me. Which is plenty. —“The Crane Wife,” CJ Hauser
Sometimes you just need to be around someone who loved you before you were a fully formed person. —“We Are Not Like Them,” Christine Pride and Jo Piazza
You can’t choose your family . . . but if I could, I’d still choose this one, mine. —“Days of Distraction,” Alexandra Chang
Sometimes people take root in one another’s hearts, and grow there as trees. Nothing that grows is permanent, but sometimes a person inhabits the world in a way that makes this seem like it could not possibly be true; surely some people must earn the right to live forever. Sometimes it is a Sunday, and there is bad news and nothing to do, and you bring over food and tell stories. Sometimes family and friends are the same, and sometimes grief is a party. — Helena Fitzgerald’s newsletter
For the rest of my life there would be a splinter in my being, stinging from the moment my mother died until it was buried with me. — “Crying in H Mart,” Michelle Zauner
What is a person, if not the marks they leave behind? — “The Invisible Life of Addie LaRue,” V.E. Schwab
Some people will never stop being themselves. And you think it drives you crazy but it is the very thing you will think about when they are gone. When you don’t have them in your life anymore. — “Daisy Jones and the Six,” Taylor Jenkins Reid
Relationships in life don’t really end, even if you never see the person again. Every person you’ve been close to lives on somewhere inside you. — “Maybe You Should Talk to Someone,” Lori Gottlieb
He does not mean that it does not hurt. He does not mean that we are not frightened. Only that: we are here. This is what it means to swim in the tide, to walk the earth and feel it touch your feet. This is what it means to be alive. — “Circe,” Madeline Miller
Deep sorrow and deep joy can exist within you, side by side. At every moment. And it’s not confusing. And it’s not a conflict. — “This is How,” Augusten Burroughs
Fragile creatures of a small blue planet, surrounded by light years of silent space. Do the dead find peace beyond the rattle of the world? What peace is there for us whose best love cannot return them even for a day? I raise my head to the door and think i will see you in the frame. I know it is your voice in the corridor but when i run outside the corridor is empty. There is nothing i can do that will make any difference. The last word was yours. — “Written on the Body,” Jeanette Winterson
Check out my latest published work:
Climbing the Spiral Staircase to Success (Managing Editor)
The AI-mazing Race: The Truth About AI and How To Use It For Far More Than (Bland) Copy (Goldcast)
4 Simple Steps To Translate Your Past Experience Into Transferable Skills (Climb Hire)
Mental Health Matters: 11 Companies That Offer Mental Health Days to Employees (Indeed)
And here's what else is on my radar this month…
Listening:
This quick chat with Jia Tolentino about chasing ego death through religion and now parenthood was really interesting!
The “If Books Could Kill” podcast took on The 4-Hour Workweek and it was hilarious
Watching:
I watched the Untold: Johnny Football episode and found it so interesting. I then spent the next few hours watching HBO’s Hard Knocks training camp featuring the New York Jets because why not….
I am completely sucked into the Love is Blind Houston season. Potential stalkers? River Oaks remodels? Aggressive, closed-lip kissing? I can’t look away.
Reading:
I got my copy of Kara Cutruzzula’s latest book, Do It (or Don’t): A Boundary Creating Journal, and it’s beautiful! Check it out here.
I finished and loved Demon Copperhead by Babara Kingsolver. I also enjoyed Lessons in Chemistry by Bonnie Garmus (yes, I know, I’m late) and I anxiety-read my way through Pretty Girls by Karin Slaughter, which is a very graphic/scary book!
The fact that some Houstonians are filing lawsuits against a local judge who took leave for depression blows my mind. And people wonder why folks aren’t open about their struggles?
This article about the book banning sweeping the nation: To suppress the books and ideas that trouble us is to suppress the questions children have about why the world works the way it does; why certain people have so much and others so little; why those in charge have abandoned the ideal to make the world a better place, and want all the authority and power of rulers, but do not wish to provide any benefits to those they would rule.
Millennials are tired of trying to be perfect moms
It’s the end of Airbnb as we know it
Happy fall,
Nikki
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I appreciate that you shared quotes so we'll all feel less alone. Just hit the spot tonight.
This paragraph really resonated with me: "But now that I’m older, I don’t think that anymore. I think I’m compelled to write those words down because I see myself reflected in them, and seeing yourself in other people is important. It’s a lifeline when things feel too difficult."
I wrote similar words a few months back: "I know what it feels like to to read something and find myself in someone else’s words. It is a feeling of belonging, knowing that I am not alone in the world, that at least one other person had a similar thought, idea or feeling."
It is feeling very meta but it also makes me feel that sense of belonging. :)