There's Something About Grey's Anatomy: My Healing Journey

I've needed to write this piece for weeks. It's evaded me, my pen, slipping away like smoke in the wind until this morning. I heard the words, replayed the segment three times to make sure I heard it correctly, felt the rightness of it. Reached for my writing tools. Finally.

Grey's Anatomy. Season 4: Episode 9- "This day, this day, you feel helpless...this day makes you grateful you have a chance to do anything at all. Take it in." 

Robbie died May 16, 2010. Suddenly. Unexpectedly. Near the end of Grey's Anatomy, the season with the mass hospital shooter stalking McDreamy and doctors and surgeons. 

After Robbie's funeral and all that roiled around in association with that terrible, awful, horrible time, a friend warned me off watching the remaining episodes of that season of Grey's, possibly my favorite show. She had watched the episodes she knew I dvr'd. She did not want me to witness death after death, gunshots, bullets, and blood.

There was so much blood. So much that my brain blocked out most of it. Since Robbie died, since I walked into my house, opened his bedroom door, and my life changed forever, there have been redacted places in my mind. Self-protection. My subconscious keeping the horror at bay.

I ignored my friend's warning and watched those final episodes of that season of Grey's. 

And then, I rewatched all the seasons from the beginning.

There's something about Grey's Anatomy, the narration in Meredith's soft voice, tidbits of phrases, friendships and all that swirl in those relationships, the blood, the sex, the knowing of what is coming next. In the thirteen years Robbie has been gone, my subconscious leads me back to Season 1 when I need it, need the security of knowing what comes next, need reminders.

A few weeks ago, my fingers reached for the remote, Netflix, Grey's Anatomy, Season 1, Episode 1. Immediately, my shoulders sagged slightly, a knot released inside me. It was comforting and I know better than to question when this happens. Robbie's best friend's wedding was approaching, and my heart was struggling, conflicted emotions of joy and disappointment, love and fury raged for top spot. Thirteen years, and still the missed milestones can kick my ass, break me apart, threaten my equilibrium.

I wrote a beautiful piece about the wedding. I fought for it, to find the best words, and over a few weeks it found its way onto my pages. Grey's tried to work its way into that memoir, but it didn't feel right, it didn't fit. Grey's needed its own piece. It may or may not find a place in the final collection, what may or may not eventually become Parallels of Grief: My Journey through Loss & Life without my Son and Brother. 

But I knew it needed writing, this attempt to explain the powerful place the words of a television show hold in my healing journey. 

It needed to be shared, because someone else out there is fighting to understand they are not alone when they feel physically crinkled with grief. Someone needs to hear that even though "This day, this day, you feel helpless...this day makes you grateful you have a chance to do anything at all." Someone needs to understand there is a reason we must "Take it in."

Take it all in. Stew in the feelings: the rage, the helplessness, the unfairness, the sadness. All of it. Even though today you may feel helpless, we take it in because these moments make us understand the power of having more chances to do anything at all. We feel this way because we loved, we love, with our whole hearts and now someone is gone from this physical world.

We only grieve because we love.

Revel in the moments that remind us how lucky we are to have loved so deeply that we grieve so fiercely. 

Cling to what you need to guide you through those moments. Grey's is one of mine. 

Finally, it found its way to the page. 

I exit Netflix, pausing the episode, knowing I will return soon. For now, sunshine, fresh air, and the comfort of my horses await. Don't be afraid to go out there and find yours, because today is a new chance to do anything, anything at all.