In December 2010, I lost two beloved Grandparents. Without going in to unnecessary detail, it was an understandably trying time for our family. My siblings and I lost our Grandma. My Mum lost her mother. My siblings and I lost our Poppy. My Nanny lost her husband. Christmas was solemn and the New Year celebrations seemed cruel.
One year later, I'll let you in on a little secret. The heartache of losing a loved one never really goes away. The grieving process progresses and at times you think you're 'moving on' and surviving the worst emotional experience you could ever imagine.
I've noticed in the past six months that while my broken heart has mended a little, it doesn't take very much to break me any more. The slightest things can make my heart completely sink and usually, an enormous lump will form in my throat. The circumstances don't even have to be sad or aggressive.
A touching story will have me faking to my friends that I am lost for words simply because I am trying hard to hold back the tears and shoo away the frog in my throat.
While watching movies, happy endings don't just make me a little teary. They make me bawl... loudly (I'm looking at you, Walt Disney. The Little Mermaid is merciless).
Grieving can make you look at your loved ones in a different way. It doesn't just make you appreciate them more than you once did. That would be a pleasantly useful way to work through the grieving process. Rather, I sometimes wonder "Two grandparents passed away, 8 days apart from each other... who is next?" and "How the hell will I cope when *loved one* passes away?".
Sometimes it might feel like your memory is ever so slightly affected. Most of the time, I'll automatically accept that the loved ones we lost are no longer with us. However, sometimes I'll have a lapse of memory, perhaps reverting to childhood memories and happier times, where I will see a marching band on TV and instinctively run to the phone to call my Poppy. Or I'll achieve something that I know my Grandma would be so proud of so I'll make a mental note to call her in the evening. When you realise you can no longer do these things, your heart breaks all over again.
Besides the heartbreak, there is definitely a sense of dissatisfaction that occurs a few months on. Sometimes all you want to do is hug your loved one, hold their hand, kiss their cheek, laugh with them, stay up late talking to them, tell them everything will be alright... and yet you know that you'll never do those things again.
People who grieve are not ok for the first six months at the very least. They may lead you to believe that everything is fine, but underneath the surface, they're completely broken and struggling to get up in the morning. Furthermore, grieving may lie dormant for years and when one little memory is triggered, you're a mess again.
If you know somebody who has recently lost someone they love, don't do the following:
- Brush it off: "Ah, grief sucks, but without it we would never appreciate the good in life". Even if you mean well, it's infuriating.
- Over-sympathise: "Awwwww you poor thiiiiing!" It's condescending.
- Ignore it completely, assuming that the person doesn't want to talk about it. It can be seen as unsympathetic and disrespectful.
- Send a text with your 'deepest condolences' and then ask a favour. That's just uncouth.
Sometimes there is no right answer on how to behave around people who are grieving. When I lost my Grandparents, I appreciated my friends' concern and support via text message for the first few days. When I went back to work, it was always best when my fellow team members worked my loss into conversation, opening with a tough situation they were facings and then acknowledging my loss by saying "You've had a pretty tough time, too..." and continuing from there.
Thirteen months later, I am more than just existing day to day, and I can see that gradual improvement in my family members as well. However, four years later I've made little emotional progress since I first posted this blog. The above human experiences still occur daily, often uninvited, and the haunting feeling of denial still threatens to harm my sanity with considerations such as "If I go to Grandma's home today, maybe she will answer the door and I'll realise it was all one big hoax". However, reality then rears its ugly head and reveals itself to be a cruel and unrelenting beast.
My siblings and I may no longer have our Grandparents with us in the flesh, but we can certainly carry on their legacies; celebrate their birthdays; reminisce while looking at photos and focus on creating wonderful new memories with our widowed Nanny, orphaned mother and fatherless father. It won't be easy but in dedication of their time spent with us, I'll endure the everlasting emotional trauma that their deaths have caused and honour my loved ones until the day I die.
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