"Grief and Love" by Gemma McLarty

Trigger warning: today’s post discusses suicide.

We’ve just finished February, the month of love. I can’t help but geek out at all of the cuteness of Valentine’s Day. However, when you have a heavy heart riddled with grief, it can be hard to find lasting sweetness. Especially when reminded of romance and relationships.

Hi. I’m Gemma and yes, I have CF. There are also a lot of other things about me. I’m an artist, a friend, an advocate, movie-lover, musician, a college graduate, an activist, and just chill person. There are also plenty of hardships I’ve overcome, however, during this time, I can’t help but feel my grief intensely.

In 2023, my closest person, my partner, my friend, my biggest supporter, chose to end their life after years of their own suffering.

Eric and I met in 2016, as soon as I moved away from home to Colorado, with love at first sight. I was swept off my feet into a warm bundle of love, and care, family, and adventure. I had just lost my dad to cancer earlier that year among other strifes, and found so much healing in our relationship. Eric not only loved me, but helped me learn how to love myself.

One of the most notable ways that Eric supported me was through my health journey. I remember being terrified to have to explain CF, and all of the things that it comes along with. I also was having rough time taking care of my health upon our meeting, feeling hopeless and reckless. Eric not only encouraged me to stick to a healthy regimen of treatments and self care, but also would spend hours researching my illness and truly took the time to stay up to date with the latest in CF news and treatments. Eric made me feel less weird about having an illness that can at times make you feel like an outcast. And for the first time in my life, I didn’t feel an ounce shame or embarrassment because of my CF.

My memories of Eric are endless. We traveled like vagabonds, and spent day after day picnicking and exploring nature. Eric was funny too, with a cunning sense of humor and caring laugh. Eric was a brilliant conceptual artist, and graduated from an amazing art school while we were together. Eric was an amazing friend and human who cared deeply about humanity and the environment. One of my favorite things was that we could just open up so much with each other that we could be as silly and goofy as we wanted. Our souls meshed in ways that cannot be seen.

Since losing Eric here physically, I have had to push through not just the grief, but also health issues and struggles. It has been hard not having Eric to call from the hospital for a conversation that would eventually crack me up, or keep me accountable for taking care of my health. But knowing that Eric loved me so much and always wanted the best for me and for my health, is enough to keep me motivated.

Some days in this grief I feel like reality is slamming me into the ground. But these days, I am starting to have some good days, where I can appreciate the sun hitting my face, and the breezes in the trees. I gained an enormous amount of appreciation for life and it’s many magical wonders during my times with Eric. And while I will forever wish Eric could still be able to make those memories, I am forever grateful for the light I now see because our irreplaceable connection.

I want to end with a note on suicide. Without real human love and connection, we cannot truly heal from deep depression and mental illness. People need each other. If you notice someone around you is displaying signs of mental illness, one of the most harmful things you can do is ostracize them and be unfriendly. People internalize rejection so deeply, and when someone who is battling something you can’t begin to understand, it’s your duty to treat them with dignity.

Its so important to try and find empathy for those who’s struggles are different from the “norm,” we should try and embrace them with care and comfort. You may never know how truly wonderful someone is until you get to really know them.

If you or someone you know is struggling with their mental health, reach out to a professional who can help. Call the national suicide hotline by dialing 988.