On grief, sisterhood, and the limitations of the Internet

I've been at a loss to post lately because my family has had a recent sadness, which isn't really my story to tell. It's primarily my sister's sadness, but she is choosing to write about it, honestly and bravely, as part of her own processing; so in the end I decided to write a little about my own processing too.

We were talking, my sister and I, about grief, and the way it is both maddeningly mundane in its universality, yet also totally unique to every situation. There's that all-too-predictable slog through denial, anger, sadness, etc. etc. The intellectual knowledge that it will get better combined with the definite sensation that time has stopped moving, and that future better state may never arrive. And yet every situation is unique, and doesn't entirely prepare you for the next one. The difference between a long-expected grief, a sudden and unexpected grief, and a looming risk of grief that just went the wrong way for you this time. Grief over something experienced by nearly everyone, versus something that leaves people at a panic-stricken loss as to what to say. Some people are comforted by the idea of a higher power or a "plan," whereas others think that any god who would plan for this sort of thing to happen to people is frankly an asshole, and just not very credible as a deity. (My sister and I both fall into that latter camp.)

My sister and I are very close, and this is one of those times when it's particularly hard to be far away from someone you love. I check in every day, as much for my own peace of mind as anything. I also, weirdly, found myself turning to the Internet, and buying stuff. I thought, I will send her care packages of things that I like. Things that make me feel good. Maybe they will make her feel good too. And so a random assortment of packages are winding their way to Chicago. I found myself fixated on some irrational searches. That little statue on my dresser that I bought in some funky craft store in Victoria ten years ago? That makes me smile. I need to find one of those for my sister. But alas, despite the many things you can find on the Internet, you cannot find a replica of a spontaneous funky treasure from a tiny shop in a foreign city. Nor, it turns out, is it easy to find Bollywood movies. I was sure that the swirling, colorful saris and rhythmic music would be just what the doctor ordered. She's always liked musicals! But it had to be just the right one, the right mix of hardship and happiness, and I came up short.

But time does march on, in a not very linear fashion, and comfort and laughter and grace come from unexpected places. Perhaps that's mundane, but it's true nonetheless.