Document: WM-070                                                 P. Webb
Category: Life                                                2025.05.20

                               Good Grief

Abstract

   Thanks, I hate it.

Body

   Grief is weird.

   Getting the call a loved one has passed and attending the funeral are
   obvious moments of grief and you can expect tears and shock to come
   from that. What I was not prepared for (who is?) was random pangs of
   grief that occur when you’re just trying to live your life.

   My wife is a student at a fashion college and recently participated
   in their fashion show…as did I, as her model[1]! We’re both fans of
   "Fashion Runway" ("Next in Fashion" is a decent show but doesn’t
   quite hit the same) and "Making the Cut" so we couldn’t pass up the
   chance to get involved. It was an exciting experience. Last weekend
   we attended a fashion show at another college in the area, this time
   as mere audience members. Another great experience!

   My grandmother loved fashion and accessorizing. Fur coats and
   gowns were her THING and she carried herself with the grace of
   knowing that she was THE best dressed person in the room.

   I’m helping relaunch a beauty company that had to shut down during
   the pandemic (it’s basically Uber for beauty). It only just occurred
   to me last night that my grandmother would’ve been excited about what
   I’m working on because guess what? For many years, she ran a
   barbershop/beauty salon. As a kid, she made sure that my haircuts
   were clean af ("Ooh my grandson so HANDsome").

   I’m happy when I remember these moments but then I remember I can’t
   tell her about new moments. I can’t share pictures and videos with
   her. She would’ve loved to see me strut down the runway. She would’ve
   loved to be involved in the marketing for this beauty company (she’d
   probably insist, actually). I can’t hear her words of excitement,
   encouragement, motivation, nothing. And that’s when the hurt and the
   tears come.

   I have a small vial of her ashes in a necklace and I wear it when I
   feel that my outfit is sick (she was with me on that runway) so it’s
   a small consolation. I’ll never experience her hugs[2] again and that
   fucks me up. Her birthday is in 10 days so I gotta remember to have a
   Klondike bar (her favorite).

   I wish grief was like a papercut; feel the sting, cry if you need to,
   apply a Band‑Aid over it, keep it moving. Forgettable.

   I guess the point of grief is that you DO remember everything you
   cherished about a person. It’s been five months since she passed.
   I’m so thankful we reconnected in a big way the year prior. At least
   I don’t have regrets?

   Claretha Johnson enriched my life in ways I’m sure I don’t even
   see yet.

   🕸️

   P.S. Apologies for the Instagram links, haven’t setup a self‑hosted
   photo solution yet.