Dealing with grief

The definition of grief is deep sadness – but grief is so much more than just sadness. We have all suffered loss in our life, be it a loved one, a miscarriage or simply the loss of a close relationship. Each loss is different and can conjure up a variety of emotions.

I recently read that you may have a long-term relationship with grief. Just when you think it’s gone, something may pop up and bring you right back. Accepting this can help you to continue to let go each time you need to. It may take longer than you or anyone else deems the ‘right amount of time’, or never, and that is ok. Suppressing grief to please others is so much worse for us all.

Both my parents have now died. Each experience was different. My mum had a complicated up and down relationship with death. She would always say that cancer would get her and whether she asked for it or not, it was cancer and her treatment which exhausted her body. My Dad died completely unexpectedly. Both were devastating and strengthening at the same time.

My mum was a complicated woman who I love fiercely. I told her everything and she was very loyal to my brother and I. However, she had her demons, and was often locked in her past relationships and traumas. She found it difficult to trust people and love herself. As a child it was very confusing and frustrating to be told one thing about how to be and live, yet watch the opposite be modelled.

I often felt that she was happy to give up when she died and I felt such relief from her when she knew it was her time. However, the discord came when she realised freedom from her broken body meant she would no longer play an active part in life with me, my brother, my dad and her grandchildren. Her guilt for this was combined with her total exhaustion from life.

A few months before she died she experienced ‘spontaneous remission’ from non-Hodgkin’s lymphoma. We had worked together on healing her body emotionally and physically. She was committed to healing herself and her past, and for a brief moment she was lighter and happier then I had ever seen her. I was so proud that she was able to finally look in the mirror and say she loved herself and she was worthy of a happy life. I will never forget that moment and I love her so very deeply that she gave herself that gift. It helped when she died, knowing that she had achieved the ultimate in peace and happiness, even if it was only for a few months.

I was absent for both of my parent’s deaths and I am ok with that. I was able to talk to my mum on the phone hours before when she could not speak very well as her lungs were giving in. I gave her permission to do what she had to do for herself. She had given my brother, my dad and I so much of her energy and if it was time to let go, she could and should. She was terrified of suffering, of being incapacitated in a hospital. That she was in a hospital for a mere few hours before she died was of some consolation to me.

My dad was now my primary concern – and luckily we had made arrangements to move and live with him. It was good to have this in place before mum’s dying was even a slight reality. I was pregnant with my second child and my brother was due to get married in a couple of months. We had the big five that year – death, birth, wedding, international move and my husband was out of work for the best part of a year after we moved. Living with my Dad was both a struggle and a complete joy. I feel lucky that my children got the chance to know my Dad and develop a great bond and friendship. They will keep that for life I hope. My Dad died very unexpectedly when I was abroad with my husband. But I am happy my last words to him before we departed were full of love and hope for the future.

I am an optimistic person, striving to find the best in every situation. However, I have had to re-learn over the last six years to release fear, recognise my patterns and ultimately be kinder to myself. The stress I was putting myself through to hold everything together for everyone was immense. I had to begin to work out how to put me first, to live the life I loved.

The guilt and shame I felt over mum dying came about because I couldn’t wish her back and or lament her death as she felt life was too hard, her body too broken and she was exhausted. I could actually be happy she was dead, for her. That is not a normal thing to feel or say and so it felt very strange and isolating.

Before my mum’s death I knew very few people who had lost a parent. I couldn’t even imagine what life would be like. I felt vulnerable, surprised and shocked after she died. When I looked around me it felt like I was in a bubble. Something so deeply upsetting had happened to me, but the world kept turning. I had a baby to look after both inside and outside of my body and their needs had to come first. I think for the first year, at least, I operated in autopilot and it felt like I was merely witnessing my life rather than participating in it. I have very few memories of that year.

Now, a few months since my dad’s sudden death, that out of body experience seems to have returned. The difference this time is that I can recognise it, health through it and know it will feel different in time. A new normal can and will be achieved. That’s what keeps me going. Living, being the best I can be in the situations I am in. Trying to be in the present even though I am also retreating into and above myself from time to time.

People often use the phrase, ‘I’m sorry you lost your parents’. I haven’t lost them, they are still my parents and I know where they are. I miss them, Iove them and they will always love me. That brings me peace and I just have to take each day at a time. A new normal is coming and all can be well again.