Bittersweet: An Exploration of Trauma, Loss, and Letting Go

Abstract

Bittersweet: an exploration of trauma, loss, and letting go is a tribute to the second home I grew up in, my grandparent's house. My grandparents have lived in that apartment for over 15 years now, practically my whole life. It's a one bedroom one bathroom apartment right off the grand concourse in The Bronx. They are moving to Pennsylvania before the end of this semester. The announcement of their moving created a shift in me. I started to ponder on all the memories I created in that home from the good to the bad.

My grandfather and I don't have the best relationship and never have. He used to touch me when I was about eight or nine years old and it stopped when I turned eleven. I have never told anyone until the moment you're reading this. That room is ingrained in my head. Their bedroom covered ceiling to floor in white walls, royal blue curtains, clunky furniture, and a mirror. I harbored this dark secret for such a long time. The process of making this body of work has been my way of unpacking, forgiving, and moving forward from the dark past of what I experienced in this apartment.

There were good memories. My time sitting in the living room watching novelas and law & order all day, taking down her braids whenever she needed me to, and going to the rainbows on 170th street because that's one of her favorite places to go. I love my grandmother. I consider her my second mom. She's my rock. Sitting on that golden couch enjoying the energy in the safe space I created, has turned into two hour visits, being irritable and unable to concentrate.

During this last semester my grandfather got diagnosed with stage 4 pancreatic cancer , he has less than 3 months to live. I can't help but think it's my fault. All those years of hatred and resentment being thrown at him, I always wished he went out of this world in the worst possible way and this is my punishment. I know it's not directly my fault but believing that is easier said than done. I'm making the effort to forgive him, not for his sake but for mine. . This is my way of letting go yet, cherishing these memories and memorializing the house I called a second home.