There is nothing more lonely than being the alone in your grief.
Well that’s a depressing thought and in all honestly everyone’s grief journey is their own regardless of how much family they have around them.
What perhaps makes my journey and those who find themselves in a similar position different is not being able to share memories, whether they are good, bad, banal or frankly ugly. We are all human and whilst we should ‘never speak ill of the dead’ no one is perfect. It makes working through grief harder in my opinion when you can’t ‘chew the fat’ . To coin another phrase ‘to err is human, to forgive is divine’. But, what do you do when trying to navigate this on your own?
Yes, friends and extended family will have memories to share but no one has the the more intimate ones.
The do you remember when they did this? Or, I did that? When they went batshit crazy over this? Or, the times they reduced you to tears because you didn’t act the way they expected you to and vice versa?
The fact that you denied yourself something because of them, or they you? Grief throws up a myriad of issues and when the only person you have to argue these things with is your own head it can become a total head fuck and one that can destroy your own mental health.
Throw in the menopause (sorry any guys reading this – although the male menopause does exist) and then you really start to question your state of mind. Even with HRT (and I’ve tried a few) you start to question everything.
Everyone knows there are supposedly 7 stages of grief-
Denial = no they haven’t died – well yep, my Mum is 100% dead no denial here.
Anger = how dare you die on me – no. My mum had been in palliative care for a long time, I don’t begrudge her peace.
Bargaining = please don’t leave me, I’ll do anything. Now, I get this, Mum don’t leave me alone but, at the same time I stroked her hand on that last night in a hospital room alone and told her if she wanted to go and felt it was her time she should go. I’ll hold my hands up and say I didn’t stay to the end – I couldn’t and a few hours later I got the call to say she had died.
Shock = no not for someone who was in palliative care for over 10 years and had survived a cardiac arrest and COVID19 despite having lung and heart issues.
Testing = yes she could be very testing. But did she test me in her journey – no, just most of my life! Sorry being flippant and deflecting (apparently I’m very good at that).
Depression = Hmm come back to that.
Acceptance = do I know she has died – yes.
So, what happens now?
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