- Universal adjective/ˌju·nəˈvɜr·səl/ existing everywhere or involving everyone
- Scream verb /skriːm/ to cry or say something loudly; usually on a high note especially because of strong emotions such as fear, excitement, or anger.
Hello and welcome to my blog. If you are here because you have suffered a major loss of a loved one, I am so sorry you are here. After my father died, I scoured the internet to devour podcasts, books, blogs, YouTube channels – any voices that could speak to the chaos of what I was feeling. Perhaps you came here for the same reason.
I chose the name Universal Scream because death and loss are universal experiences. Every person on this planet has, and will, experience this pain. And when we are in pain, we scream. Often, it feels as if this scream is internalized in the West. Death, and the grief that dovetails it, is not something many feel comfortable talking about. It’s thoughts and prayers, it’s broken heart and prayer emojis, it’s pithy statements: “At least he’s out of pain,” “They’re in a better place,” or “Don’t be sad, you have so much to be grateful for.” You stand there shattered and people around you gather with brooms to hurriedly sweep the shards of your grief under the rug so we can carry on with the niceties.
I was one of them, too; the silent type. Better to say nothing than to say something wrong, I thought. My only extent of communicating was sending emojis and so sorrys on Facebook, but I never stopped to think about what death and loss really meant. And to be honest, who wants to feel any shade of heavy grief before they inevitably must? Backburners are there for a reason.
I can only say I wish I had been more prepared. I wish I hadn’t held on so tight to the notion that my parents will probably pass away peacefully in a bed while I held their hand. I was in denial about this process of life. Most of us are. Not many people want to run towards pain, nor should we. But we shouldn’t lock death behind a door and throw away the key. It will rip the hinges off and won’t even bother knocking first.
There is so much that I wish to share in this blog.
I will of course talk of the seemingly endless negatives: How we discovered Dad’s cancer. The disgusting way the doctors and hospital system bungled his care and treated him like a number. How I laid witness to Dad’s deterioration. The swarm of regrets that sting at me in the lonely hours. How friends and family hurt me. How I struggle trying to strike the balance between letting go and holding on. The very personal isolation of grief, and the love that has nowhere to go.
I also want to talk about the abundant positives: I want to talk about who my dad was and what he meant to me. The unbelievable signs and synchronicities that followed his transition. My experience with mediums. The love from friends and the kindness of strangers that kept me from drowning in my tears. How my gratitude has widened and deepened. How I found a safe haven in physical movement and music.
And many many other thoughts, rants, and musings.
I hope there is something here that will speak to you, scream to you, ease you, or touch you.
You are not alone, friend.
xoxo Cheryl
