Grief Upon Grief

There are no words. I had written a lighthearted, joyful Lunar New Year post before the Monterey Park shooting happened, and planned to upload it on New Year’s Day. Then the shooting happened, and I could not find any words for days after, until now, when I searched this site for other posts on the shootings (Half Moon Bay as well, just two days after Monterey Park) and found nothing.

There are no words.

I was asked to support a “holding space” session at the college where I teach for our staff and students, and presumably for ourselves. I said I would try to be there but right now I have no words. I wondered if, among all the events to mourn and grieve and hold space, there is ever enough space? Will there ever be enough space for the grief that threatens to swallow you up before the last wave recedes to shore?

For a Chinese immigrant like me, Lunar New Year is a huge event laden with symbolism about luck and prosperity, to nudge the ancestors in the heavens to move things in our favor just a tiny bit this year. It is the celebration of celebrations — loud, boisterous, and crowded in the best way. Above all, families gather. They travel hundreds of miles to be together. In many Asian countries, they take two weeks off to celebrate. The shocking incongruity of death and trauma at this time of year is almost impossible to process. And if you’re an immigrant like me, you have parents of a certain age who, for a big part of their lives, did ballroom dancing with a group of friends. That’s just what they do to have a little fun, to shake off the hours of grueling work in a sweatshop, or diner, or nail salon.

I went for a bike ride this morning, which is always certain to lift me up on any other day, but not today. I listened to music. I started to put down these words. In another day or two, I will roll up my sleeves and get to work to prevent further tragedies, to support the community, and post my joyful new year message. Today I’m holding space for the grief. Let it wash over me.