People often say that they would like to “just disappear”; to vanish and not have to feel, or have to participate in the everyday cruelties life can offer. But, as it often goes, this feeling passes as quickly as it took to speak the words themselves. What people rarely understand is that it is not a luxury to feel like you are nothing.
I remember the day I disappeared. My grandfather had only been diagnosed with melanoma for two weeks before the sickness took his life. From the moment I knew he was gone, a part of me left with him. That night I could feel myself sink lower and lower and until I couldn’t see, hear or feel my surroundings. Losing something that I so dearly cared about resulted in the pain taking me to a place I thought I would never escape from, and I know a part of me is still there.
It has been about three years since I lost my grandfather to cancer. It always surprises people when I tell them my reasons for why his passing made me stronger. The moment that I disappeared was the moment I wasn’t afraid of death anymore. It may sound morbid, but as I was sinking into the deepest sadness I have every known, I felt brave. Knowing that someone I cherished had lost life, I felt like I could do it too. Since disappearing, I now know that it is something I do not wish to do ever again. But what people don’t tell you is that you come back with a stronger piece of you than the piece that was lost in dark.
This is a strong moment –loss of a relative–and disappearing is an interesting response. I’d like to have a better sense of how this particular disappearing felt, worked etc.
Also–what is the link between disappearing and mourning? Is it a way to mourn or a way to avoid mourning or both?