Yesterday was the first time we met as Kresnadi family after the passing of Mas Oyi. We gathered around in Mas Oyi’s house in Jatibening.
I finally met Chita, my little sister who live in KL, whom I haven’t met for two years. The last time we met was in Solo, in February 2020 for relatives wedding. Unfortunately that was also the last time Chita met Mas Oyi. As the pandemic ceased her to visit Indonesia, as she regularly was.
Meeting and hugging Chita and Mbak Wik, my blood connections, my tears rolled down again. The feeling of sadness, realizing we will never be together again as four siblings hurt a lot. Two weeks are still very short time to end our grief. Far from it.
Although we already started to live our normal life, able to share our story on that fateful day a bit better, but from time to time we still feel the pain.
One of Mas Oyi’s school mate tagged me on her Facebook post. She is a psychologist. And what she shared was actually very good. It’s about understanding the grief.
The concept is called as “The Ball and the Box”. It’s shared by Lauren Herschel twitter, based on what her doctor told her. She is trying to create an analogy for understanding grief.
Grief is like a box with a ball in it, and a pain button.
In the beginning, the ball is huge. You can’t move the box without the ball hitting the pain button. It rattles around on its own in there and hits the button over and over. You can’t control it – it just keeps hurting. Sometimes it seems unrelenting.
Over time the ball gets smaller, it hits the button less and less but when it does, it hurts just as much. It’s better because you can function day to day more easily. But the downside is that the ball randomly hits that button when you least expect it.
For most people, the ball never really goes away. It might hit less and less and you have more time to recover between hits, unlike when the ball was still giant.
I think this is a very good concept to explain the grief process that is currently happening with us, in dealing with the loss of Mas Oyi.
We’ll get there. Over time. For time being, let us grief.