Loving and grieving
In case anyone needs to hear this, yes, you can love and still grieve at the same time.
“Berduka itu bukan seperti apa yang selama ini ditunjukkan di film-film. Hal yang berat dari berduka itu adalah hidup kita harus terus berjalan. Padahal kita lagi enggak mau jalan.” — Jatuh Cinta Seperti di Film Film (2023)
Romantic comedies were always my favorite. It’s somewhat ironic, considering I hated grand gestures because the thought of making a scene in public makes me anxious. Instead, I pay attention to subtle gestures that convey love, like remembering small details or random habits about someone.
I’m a firm believer that love is a verb, not a noun. It’s about always having someone by your side to pick up groceries, do the laundry, cook (as I am a terrible chef), watch movies at home while we order takeout, and have someone to talk about whatever with before I go to bed. It’s the thought that there will be someone to share your life with and that you’ll face the challenges in life together.
As the first grandchild of a family without divorces, I’ve seen how my closest family members translate love for their partners. I was there when my parents’ brothers and sisters got married to their significant others and had their first children. Now they’re starting to wear thicker glasses and grow their grey hair out, too.
We always had weekly family dinners, during which they updated each other on the wholesome and funny things that happened in their small families throughout the past week. Throughout my more than twenty years of life, I have never felt like anyone’s love died. Even when things get a little rough, it’s not you versus your partner. It’s you and your partner versus the problem.
I had an optimistic view of love.
I loved that romantic comedies were an escape from my one-sided love stories—meet-cutes, fake relationships, the best-friends-to-lovers trope. The characters are often pretty dramatic, and the plot is simple, predictable, and cringey. However, they subconsciously fed into the notion that feelings are black and white, that either you love someone or you don’t.
Jatuh Cinta Seperti di Film Film (2023) beautifully captures the antithesis of romantic comedies and the complexities of navigating your feelings, especially grief and romance. Grief doesn’t solely emerge from the loss of a loved one, but it can be in the form of a friendship that grew apart, or losing a part of yourself that no longer exists.
“Moving on” is often depicted as this heroic and prideful feeling of who can make it seem like their life is more put together without the other faster. It sets an unrealistic expectation to completely forget everything that hurt you and everything that once made you feel loved. To forget the subtle traits we unintentionally adopt from someone we used to spend most of our time with, to lose the specific phrases they usually say that we end up using, and to make space for something or someone new easily.
The residues from strained relationships grew to be a part of us that we don’t move on from, but we move with.
I miss a part of myself that shines just a little brighter when it comes to love. How I once felt like I always had a person to share parts of my day with, no matter how unimportant they were. How I would be vocal about everything I felt, the good and the bad. How I expressed my feelings through handmade gifts that made them feel special.
But I lost that part of myself more than half a year ago.
I’m not sure if I lost it because I no longer had anyone to fill that place or because I’m still wounded, even if it was just a little. It’s difficult for me to find the same value in it anymore—not just in romantic relationships, but in friendships as well.
I barely have any energy to check on my friends, and for once in my life, I don’t mind not having them check on me, too.
I still like watching romantic comedies, but instead of finding comfort and hope in them as I used to, I felt numb. Being r̶e̶a̶l̶i̶s̶t̶i̶c̶ cynical about love became my self-defense mechanism.
Throughout time, I have found and expressed love in other forms—the love for myself. I found a job that I really love, and that motivates me to wake up in the morning. I found the comfort of holding onto my faith when things were challenging. I found interest in exploring new food and learning new skills. I found joy in switching my wardrobe and dressing for myself. I found happiness in treating myself to salmon sushi or a bowl of salted egg chicken.
I found peace in being on my own.
I can still love something, someone, or some-whatevers while I still grieve things that were lost or broken. I’m not stuck in the past; I just acknowledge the pain I still keep somewhere within and make the best out of it to resume life.
