Raven Clemons

Grief can be beautiful. If you told me this when I was going through the thick of it, I would’ve told you to kindly fuck off.

Years later, I can see the beauty in the many ways it can seep back into your life as a reminder of the person who once was alive.

A song. A smell. A place. An anniversary.

I don’t think it’s a coincidence that I am leaving for London today on the 13th anniversary of my grandpa’s passing. I have gone half of my life without him.

To which, I’ve only realized the significance of this a couple of days ago.

My brain did not put it together.

How did I not catch this sooner? Well, what they say is true.

Over time, your grief will stay much the same, but your life will begin to grow around it.

It’s a funny story.

This departure date only happened because I couldn’t book my flight for December 20 as I had wanted. I spent hours and hours trying to book, receiving the same technical difficulty error.

I was annoyed, flustered and overwhelmed—all the emotions that reek of irritation. I began to think this trip wasn’t meant to be.

It wasn’t until I called the customer service line that he asked if it was okay to change the departure date by one day. Without a second thought, I said, “Hey, why not?”

You see, my grandpa is why I love to travel as much as I do. He took me everywhere. I’ve traveled to places with him before I could read or write my own name.

Now, thirteen years after his loss, I am sitting on this Boeing 767 airplane, tears brimming my eyes, preparing for my 8-hour-long journey to a place I’ve only dreamed about visiting.

I realize now this technical error was probably not a mistake after all.

Hi Papo, I’m doing ok.

Love,

Nana