Growth is difficult. Though we wish it came easy, it often does not. For a business it takes long hours, for an adolescent it takes sore joints, for a muscle it takes tearing of that muscle to result in growth. And for a human to grow emotionally and mentally, it too may take difficulty to reach a place of growth. Over the past 6 months I have had opportunity to grow emotionally and mentally, and it was awful.
My name is Chase. I am 17 years old and just about to start my junior year of high school. It’s a curious thing being a junior. I’m not an underclassman, but I am also not a senior. It feels like more academic opportunity opens for me and my advisors sure push me to push myself, but it also does not feel like the right time or right reason.
February always seems to be a tough time for me. I live in a region of the United States where from November to March there seems to be a permanent grey cloud just chilling over our city. November does not bother me too much because though it is getting gray, we are also approaching the holidays, and holiday break. December is not terrible either because of finishing up the semester and getting to those holiday breaks. January brings excitement in the form of a new semester, and hearing about the holiday stories from my best friends, Michael and Mitch, who always go on some incredible family trip. And then we get to February… Nothing great is happening in February. Which means I cannot be distracted from the terrible grey cloud that has not lifted in four months. Which means that I am faced with the seasonal depression that was being concealed by anticipation for holidays, holidays themselves, and then reliving my best friends’ holidays. But in February I must stare down the complete lack of motivation I have each day. Each day to get up out of bed, stumble my way to the fridge for milk, and then stumble my way to the shower. Each day to get up out of bed knowing that I would be jumping into the same old schedule of being frustrated about the insane traffic at school drop-off, walking down the hallways feeling completely unseen by anyone other than Michael and Mitch. Sitting through classes that are all about information transfer and not growth of the student. February sucks. But this past February hurt more.
February 17th, 2021. A date that I will not soon forget. I did not have my license yet, so my parents were still my ride to and from school. We were on our way home when my mom had received a call. A call that ended with me learning that I had lost my absolute best friend. No, not Michael or Mitch. But my grandma. Now I understand, did this teenage boy just say that his absolute best friend was his grandma? And yes, it’s true. But trust me if you had known Grandma Violet, she would be your best friend too. She was as quick as a whip. She would destroy you in Uno and embarrass you in crosswords. Grandma Violet was one of the most empathetic people I have known. She would spend minutes with random people in the grocery store listening to their problems and spend hours or days with friends or family who were grieving or hurt. She never tried to fix them, Violet would just listen, and these people trusted her. Violet was the definition of fun. She just brought fun everywhere she went, as her blue curls bounced around so did everyone she talked to. She was a rock for me, a safe place that I could run to. One person that I knew without a doubt loved me and wanted to see me succeed. She was often the one who would pull me out of my February lulls. She would pick me up, get me going, and watched to make sure I kept going. And now she’s gone.
This day started in me something I have never experienced. I quickly realized that this was the first close family member that I had lost. Until then, the stench of death did not even come near my nostrils. But now, I cannot get away from it. Time after time I am flooded with a memory, a laugh, a song, and it hits me in the face, reminding me that she is gone. Who is going to fill this hole? Will anyone be able to?
Of course, with Grandma Violet being my father’s mother, it has affected him a great deal as well. My father has not ever shown too much emotion, whether it be glad or sad. He is one that could be described as steady. But this took him down. He became absent, hollow, almost lifeless himself. It was in both of our hurting that growth started to happen in our lives.
It was in this time where our relationship took a different turn. In the ways that Grandma Violet was quick, encouraging, steady, and fun, we too needed to be that for one another. It was within this season of mourning, and tears that the most mental growth I have had has happened. My father and I now have conversations with one another that we never had before. We were being empathetic towards one another; we were being more encouraging to one another than before.
It was in the loss of my absolute best friend, that I had gained a whole new relationship with my father. Of course I wish she was still here, but I do believe she would be proud of her son and grandson.
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