Saying No to Spain and the Grief that Follows

Hello Meltingpot Community,

I’m going to get personal today. With the Corona crisis everyone is experiencing loss. But still, many of us will not allow ourselves to admit that we’re hurting because our losses don’t sound as significant as people losing their lives or their jobs. It just feels shallow and selfish to shed tears over a cancelled extravagant honeymoon when somebody else has lost their spouse or parent or friend to this virus. It seems childish to lament a missed family vacation or 50th birthday celebration when others are facing eviction because they haven’t received a paycheck since March.

But loss hurts no matter what. Grief doesn’t play by the rules. My pain doesn’t disappear because yours exists.

I am concerned that many of us who are undeniably privileged, are hiding our pain, or pretending our grief doesn’t exist. Or worse, we believe that we’re not allowed to express our sorrow, save for making endless amounts of baked goods and consuming them for a temporary reprieve.

Saying No to Spain

El esposo and I made the difficult decision to cancel our planned year abroad in Spain. We put off making the decision as long as possible, hoping it would become clear one way or the other, whether or not we should go. The thing is, it never became clear. The borders are closed in Spain right now to non-residents. Some news reports say they will stay closed until December, others say September. All medical reports confirm there will be another wave of the virus in the fall/winter so who knows what is going to happen at that time. Also, we don’t know if any foreign country is going to allow Americans into their countries given the shoddy way we’re handling the outbreak.

In other words, the entire situation is riddled with unknowns.  Planning a trip with so many question marks was fraught with tension. We kept second guessing every decision. Ultimately, we realized we were planning for managing a pandemic in Spain, rather than the experience we wanted to give our children and ourselves. Given the world we’re living in right now, where so many decisions are out of our hands, this was one decision we could make that would give us a small sense of certainty. At least we know where we will be living for the next 12 months and can ‘plan’ accordingly.

The Grief

Admittedly, el esposo and I both breathed a sigh of relief once the decision was made. Not because we were happy about staying in the United States, but because at least we didn’t have this giant unknown hanging over our heads anymore. But then the grief set in. The disappointment. The sadness. I particularly feel for my husband who has no idea when he’ll be able to see his parents and siblings again.

But where do we share our lament? How do we process our grief? I hardly feel appropriate asking for sympathy for a lost sabbatical year in Spain when so many people can’t freaking buy groceries for their families. Mostly what we’re doing is being kind to ourselves in our home. My parents and siblings have given us many virtual hugs and prayers and mantras to help us think this all through.

Victory Gardening

A couple of days after we made the decision to stay home, we decided to do something we wouldn’t have been able to do had we embarked to Spain this summer. We planted a garden. And not just any garden, we planted enough vegetables – tomatoes, peppers, eggplant, lettuce, kale, cucumbers and herbs – to hopefully feed our family of five all summer long (assuming everything grows.). And this was no small feat because we literally have no yard. We did everything in containers in case you’re wondering.

Starting a garden felt like a tangible way to embrace our decision. We can’t travel abroad, but we can still make something magical and enriching in our little house right here in Philadelphia. (Also, nobody knows what’s going to happen with the food supply chain with #theRona so our little Victory Garden is also completely utilitarian.) I literally woke up the morning after our decision barely able to get out of bed, I was so sad. But  the day we decided to do the garden (which was a rather spontaneous decision), I forced myself to get up and go buy dirt and seeds and plants. Working at creating something tangible really helped me process the pain and feel hopeful again.

After the Grief Comes the Audacity of Hope

I’m still constantly reading about what’s happening in Spain. And I’m trying to stop myself from second guessing our decision to stay home. I keep thinking, what if things look totally different by the fall? I keep wondering if I missed out on an opportunity that we’ll never have again? And, I’m still just kinda sad. True story. I have this little bottle of perfume that I brought back from Spain this summer. I told myself I was going to make it last until we were in Spain again and I could buy some more. It was just a silly game I played with myself, but now, I know when the perfume is gone, it will simply be gone.

The thing is, I’m allowed to be sad. So is el esposo, as are the kids. We’ve been planning this year abroad for a long time. I was really excited to deep dive into Spain’s Black history. El esposo wanted to reconnect with his roots. Babygirl wanted to bond with her cousins. So, we’ll be sad and then because we are lucky and privileged, we’ll start planning again. Maybe the trip won’t look the same. Maybe it won’t happen next year. But we have the option to hope and dream and we will exercise that option.

Be Good to Yourselves

I want to encourage all of you dear readers, to allow yourselves to grieve your losses. Maybe it has to be private out of respect for others who have lost more, but grieve nonetheless. Also, if you can, try to find something to pour your emotions into that gives you joy in return. Like gardening, or getting a pet, or simply watching multicultural romantic movies on repeat. Basically, be good to yourselves, because we all have something to contribute to the world and all of our gifts are needed.

Be well, Meltingpot Community.

Hasta Luego!