Love Grief: Is It Always Needed When You Break Up?

One of the best qualities about living in New York City is the people you end up meeting. Of the thousands of people living on the island--when you run into someone of quality--you hang on to them like a life-line. A few weeks ago I met a fascinating guy named Nathan Seven Scott who's a life coach and on his way to greatness. Not only has he introduced me to great people, he's managed to insert some life-coaching tips that have made me rethink my own beliefs.

Walking up East 14th Street on a beautiful evening in the city:

Nando: I can't help but think of "him" sometimes when I walk through the city. I guess I haven't grieved the relationship; we were together off-and-on for two years.

Nathan: Well, if there wasn't such a thing as grief, would you still feel compelled to do it? Would you feel something was still missing?

Nando: I guess not.

Nathan: Then why force it?

Nando: Because I know it needs to happen, right?

Nathan: And what would that grief look like?

Nando: Me, a tub of chocolate-chip cookie dough ice cream and my Beaches DVD.

As I walked away, I couldn't help but wonder, "What would not grieving be like?" 

Was I looking grief because I had always done it after another boyfriend down the drain? Have people been grieving their failed relationships all along only because someone before them had introduced them to the concept? What Nathan right? Was is necessary to find comfort in my future by grieving my past?

A few weeks later, still not finding my "love grief," I had a dinner date with an extraordinary blogger, Alisa Bowman who blogs: Project Happily Ever After as she was in town for a few speaking engagements. As I walked into Pranna, a Midtown Manhattan trendy restaurant/lounge, I received a phone call from my mother telling me that my grandfather had just passed away. I managed to compartmentalize the news and met with Alisa. And to my surprise, I had one of the best dinner meetings ever--talking blogs, men, and we even managed to score a free order of sweet potato fries from flirting with the sexy young waiter with the bedroom eyes; neither one of knew who he was flirting back with--so we concluded he was bisexual to put both our sexual energy and selves at ease.

Two days later I flew back home to Odessa, TX where to my surprise, I was asked to be one of the six pallbearers at the funeral. It was a day of mixed emotions as I was happy to see so many family members, sad that my grandpa had died, and hurt to see my only sister in so much grief. My grandfather received a 21-gun salute since he was a WWII veteran and each grandchild received a bullet casing from the salute. As I was handed my shell casing my grandpa-grief began which resulted in tears, memory flashes and an emotional release which was a beautiful experience.

A few days later, as I boarded my return flight to New York, I cringed when discovering my seat was located between a young mother carrying her 6-month-old baby girl and an older Birkenstock-wearing lesbian who obviously didn't believe in moisturizing. And just as I had stopped chasing my "love grief" it found me--right between the power-lesbian and the baby who was pretty in pink. As the plane took off and hit the sky, so did my tears.

The relationship I had "forced" into my life for two years was gone. When things were good, they were good but boy, when things were bad they were toxic. And even though I didn't have a bullet casing to commemorate my "love grief" I found solace in knowing that in life things always happen for a reason and even though we would no longer share experiences and adventures--I had memories to last me a lifetime that had shaped me into a better friend, person, and hopefully boyfriend. And for that, I owed him thanks.

As I dried my eyes I thought about what Nathan "Seven" Scott had asked, "Would I still be so compelled to grieve if it never existed?" I still wasn't sure what the answer would be...all I knew was that my "love grief" had found me in the most odd place but it turned out to be a "good grief" that allowed me, with red-eyes along with clogged ears, to put my past in the past and look ahead to my future.