Edit Desk: Grieving, not grief

Growing up, I always wanted a brother, especially an older one. While I’m so happy to have an amazing sister, I still always longed for a brother. 

What I had instead was a cousin.

Cliff was my cousin, but I always felt like saying “cousin” was selling him short. He presumed the role of a cousin, brother, best friend, tutor and overall someone who always supported me.

When he passed away, I had to learn how to live without someone who wore so many different hats in my life. 

What would my day look like without FaceTiming him? How would I figure out my statistics homework without consulting him first? What would future birthdays look like without our shared birthday cake at family gatherings? 

I had so many “what’s” and “how’s” that ultimately turned into a series of “why’s?” 

A month later, my study abroad program in Florence, Italy, began. At the time, I was unsure if being 4,000 miles away from home, family, friends and Lehigh would be feasible when so much was going on in my life. 

I knew that going forward with the program was something that Cliff would have encouraged, so I did just that. I traveled to Italy — and I’m so glad I did.

The next four months included some of the most memorable moments I have ever had, even though I was trying to navigate the uncharted territory of grieving.

Every weekend while I was in Europe I would travel to a new country or city. And every weekend I would text his phone number telling him what I was doing, who I was traveling with and where I was going. I knew there would never be a virtual response, but I instead heard from him in different ways.

In Portugal, I passed a restaurant that shared his initials. In Spain, I met someone who knew him from childhood. In Greece, I saw someone who looked exactly like him. 

And in Florence, my home for the semester, the signs of him and from him would flood in every single day, just when I needed them most.

The experience of traveling while grieving someone taught me there are signs in everything — you just have to be willing to look for them and know what to look for in the moment.

While I may never be able to call him again or beg him to read over my resume one last time, I know that Cliff is still with me everywhere I go.

Even now, he is still visiting me and sending me signs in unconventional, yet heartwarming ways.

I am still trying to navigate the grieving process. I know it is something that has no clear start or end date, but is rather my own personal journey. 

I like to think about it as grieving rather than grief because grieving doesn’t stop — it is continuous. 

I realized there is always something to see, something to try, someone to meet, something to say and something meaningful in everything. There are a multitude of things I still have yet to learn, but bringing Cliff along on the journey is what matters to me most.

As my birthday approaches this month, I know I’ll smile fondly thinking of the memories that we have had but will always wish that his name was still on the birthday cake, too.