Written by Luciana, who married my second cousin Ben.

Today is National Grief Awareness Day. So I thought I'd share what grief looks like for me, a bit more than a year and a half after Ben's passing.

I read a fantastic book earlier this year, recommended to me by a friend, called The Grieving Brain, by Mary Frances O'Connor. I took away a lot of things from the book, but one of my favorites is O'Connor's distinction between the emotion of grief, which we experience in a given moment and will recur throughout our lives, and the process of grieving, which she defines as restoring a meaningful life. Grieving takes its own path for each of us, but has a beginning, middle, and end. And I feel like I'm at the point where I can at least see the end ahead, even if I haven't reached it.

I feel like I am fully experiencing my life again. I've planned trips focused on celebration or exploration rather than on processing my grief. I've made new friends who never met Ben, but are open to getting to know him through me. I'm feeling creative and tackling house projects again. I read more books by July this year than I did all of last year.

I still feel my loss keenly, but I am not overwhelmed by it. I talk about Ben often, frequently sharing his opinion on things with the people around me (whether they asked for that or not -- For example, at a fancy supermarket in New York with my mom earlier this week, I pointed out all the things Ben would have wanted to try). Many of his sayings have become my sayings (usually with proper attribution). Although I will never be as good as he was at telling his jokes.

I am crying as I write this, but I don't cry as much as I used to. When I do cry, grief is as strong as ever, but I know better now that the moments will pass. I don't wish those moments away. I appreciate the feeling of connection they bring.
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It was such a gift to be loved the way Ben loved me, and to get to love him in return. I will be forever grateful.
If you're wondering how to support someone like me in grief, please just keep telling me your memories of Ben, or being open to me sharing mine. Even if they're simple, like "we went to this place together one time", I value learning new things about him, and I value reminiscing. He's still one of my favorite people, and I'm still in love with him. So if you love him too, let's keep him with us. Thank you for listening.

During the summer of 2024, WAY Widowed and Young member Griffyn has pledged to make a thousand origami swans to raise money for the charity. In his own words:

 
I’m not sure that I can remember his voice. I can still remember his face, and his surprisingly deep and rather dirty chuckle. I used to be able to hear his words, but lately, it’s gone. That was an unexpected loss.
 
Remembering their voices is a part of sensory memory, and this is unfortunately a short-lived form of memory. However, we still know their voices and can recognise them when we hear them. I realised this when I plucked up the courage to watch a recording of the last play we were in together – All the Lonely People by Sue Hawkins – and there was his utterly familiar voice. I now know that I can listen to him speak whenever I want in just a few clicks. And while dreaming about him can be heartbreakingly sad or very confusing, I’ve learned to see it as an opportunity to see him again.
 
In this digital age, we have much greater access to recordings – video on smartphones, voice mails and voice texts, even the sound recorded by a smart doorbell. If you have these audio and video files, save them somewhere safe. You may not want to listen to them now, but you might one day in the future.
 
And if you don’t have any audio, hang on to all your other memories. There are things about them that we will never forget.