Last week, I watched Dan Levy’s Netflix film, Good Grief. It was exactly the kind of wholesome, lighthearted, feel-good, get-in-your-feels type of movie that you think it is, in addition to the fact that it’s a Dan Levy original (1/2 of the duo behind Schitt’s Creek!) so I knew it wasn’t going to be cringe or cheesy, especially for a Netflix original. But what really intrigued me was the movie’s narrative focused on the solidity of friendships and how they are what keep us grounded, supported, and held, especially in the moments of extreme loss and heartbreak.
Without giving too much away, the movie touches upon a man grieving his husband’s death with the help of his two friends when they take a brief trip to Paris. As you learn more about each character, you understand that this trip is more than just a fun friends’ weekend getaway but rather a momentary escape for each of their own present fears. Dan’s genius screenwriting gently alludes to the relatable struggles and challenges most 30-something’s go through sans the dark and cynical vignettes — adulthood struggles that aren’t necessarily new but rather the kind of struggles that continue to hide in the corners of our growth and hold a heftier weight the older we get.
It made me recall all the trips I took fresh out of breakups, when I’d rally some friends who were down to do something a little spontaneous, though within reason. Grief will make you do some crazy things. Your body will go haywire for a bit because it’s unsure how to process the abrupt disturbance and find solid ground again. Your body will trigger your fight-or-flight mode because it thinks it’s unsafe or threatened.
In my case, flight is usually taken literally.
My first grief trip (because that’s what I’m calling them from now on) was a quick getaway to Puerto Rico with some friends. At first, I had only talked one of my girlfriends into going with me but somehow we managed to convince two more friends (both male, which I feel like is an important distinction). My guy friends didn’t know this was initially intended for me to heal heartbreak but I don’t think that fact would’ve changed the trip for them, anyway. Either way, as recent grads still grasping onto the spontaneity of naïveté, we barely hesitated to jump on a plane for warmth and sunshine in the middle of December.
Suddenly and serendipitously, Puerto Rico ended up being the destination for two other grief trips with girlfriends following more heartbreak. While it’s mostly because it’s a quick flight that’s usually affordable, I think now, it’s a place that holds a special space in my heart because it’s become a familiarity that now feels like safety when unexpected grief throws me off balance and I’m struggling to find stability in my own reality. Grief will have you completely detach from your own body as though you were a walking corpse functioning on a reserved tank of clockwork routines. There’s something about physically taking your body out of sensitive spaces to remind yourself that you can, and you will, return to how you genuinely think and feel and safely exist within your own body once again.
I didn’t know it then but just as the movie opened, right before the title card displays the big letters of GOOD GRIEF, I immediately thought of my own friend trips that have healed me in ways I hadn’t known quite yet. It’s not to say that after those trips I was no longer heartbroken and had forgotten about the whole traumatic ordeal, but rather, those trips were a body reset that briefly reminded me of all the liveliness still stirring within me. Because when you dissociate from your own being in the wake of grief, you forget what it means to be a person altogether. You forget who you are anymore and how to be alive. Grief trips have brought me back to myself so I can tap into stowed away strength (I imagine a bright red box lodged somewhere that says, “In case of emergency, break glass”) to brace my body for more pain and sadness, instead of numbing myself to run away from the icky feelings of despair.
The thing is the body needs to operate on some comfortable cycle to regulate stability. It needs to feel all the good and all the bad. All the joy and all the pain. All the peace and all the discomfort. It’s a balancing act but it’s also maintaining yourself at the epicenter of your own existence. There’s a quote in the movie where a characters says, “To avoid sadness is also to avoid love” which reminded me of when I once wrote in an open letter to myself, “You can’t experience the greatness of your own existence without acknowledging the fullness of your lowest moments.” Each perspective extends the same resolution: the long stretches of your best, fantastical, jubilant self can be confidently explored because it takes the same emotional capacity and curiosity to explore and embrace the other side of those feelings as well.
Even as I’m thinking about it now, I guess any trip can really be a grief trip if you see it as an exploration of self to come back ready for new change. Because in that same manner, any trip is just as much healing whether you’re recovering from something or simply discovering more of yourself and the world. And as the infamous quote by Vision from the WandaVision show goes, “What is grief, if not love persevering?”
My grief trips are physical manifestations of my own love persevering. I hope you see it as such, too.
catching flights and feelings,
mai sunshine