It’s been nearly two and a half years since that day in a grey ward of a Newcastle under Lyme hospital, that my wonderful mum took her final breath after her battle with cancer. Following that, it’s been nearly two years since I penned what would now be my most read blog post, “Five things I’ve learnt about grief and bereavement”.
Two and a half years along the road I’ve felt, learnt, experienced and discovered a whole lot more about grief since 21 year old me wrote that original post. So, today, I bring you part 2 of the things I’ve learnt about grief and bereavement. I’ve wanted to write and publish this post for quite a while, but every time I came to sit down and write, or press publish, something stopped me. But here I am, two and a half years older, potentially wiser (maybe), hoping that these words might help someone else in the midst of grief maybe feel slightly less alone.
It’s going to break your heart
Romantic heart break is a topic that is part of everyday conversation. You really can’t miss it, whether it’s the lyrics of your current music obsession, your no.1 ship from your favourite TV show or film franchise, your work bestie and her now ex-boyfriend – romantic heart break is everywhere and anywhere you turn, especially in the age of the internet.
However, bereavement heartbreak is something that is rarely mentioned, but is something that is completely and utterly real.
A shattering of the heart, that is like nothing else you will ever experience. A A Milne once said, “How lucky I am to have something that makes saying goodbye so hard”, I do not think this sums anything up better than the heartbreak of grief. Because unlike romantic heart break, you’re not going to bump into that person in the pasta aisle of Tesco on a rainy Sunday afternoon or dance around your room to a girl power playlist on Spotify because you finally washed that man right out of your hair. The heartbreak of grief is long and painful, and it is real and true and raw, and scarily honest. Bereavement heartbreak will shatter your heart into a million pieces. For many it often feels like those pieces won’t ever go back together, and the likelihood is they won’t ever go back together the same way. However what I’ve learnt over the last two and a half years, is that contrary to popular belief, a bereaved broken heart still beats. It may always beat slightly differently, it may not work in exactly the same way it did before, but a broken heart still beats, it still loves.
It makes no sense
The road those dealing with grief walk is a strange one, often it makes no sense whatsoever. You can feel totally ok for days, weeks even. Then the smallest thing, a smell, the tune someone on the tube is humming, an item of clothing in a shop window, the advert for the latest block buster – and all of a sudden you’ve been completely and utterly flawed. Your feet can’t move, you get tunnel vision, your brain can’t think of anything but them. Or maybe it’s not that. Maybe for weeks your grief and pain has consumed you, trying to take part in daily life has been like trudging through mud. But, all of a sudden, with one Abba song or one cup of tea or one episode of Gavin & Stacey and it’s like the sun has risen and the clouds have parted. And a small semblance of the old, grief free you has returned.
The ups and downs, the illogical painful nature of grief is so bloody confusing. It makes no sense whatsoever, no matter how you break it down or try and rationalise it. I’ve learnt that the confusion and weirdness of grief is something that sticks with you, you’ll never know when that raw sadness or pain is going to hit, or what might set it off. Often it can be frustrating and mind boggling, it can take you by total surprise. Yet that is the rollercoaster that is the strange journey all those living with grief must deal with.
Live today
Growing up I lived within a culture and community where you saved things for best. A dress, a plate, a book, a bag, earrings, a tea set – these are just a few of the things that spring to mind that you should save for best, not just use on any old grey day. Yet, losing my mum when she was so young made me realise that it may be a total wanky cliché, but life is short. You don’t know what’s coming or what’s going to happen tomorrow. So wear that stunning dress, use the fancy tea cups, and book the bloody flight. Make the most of the life and days you have, even in the smallest of things, like eating your Friday night take away off those posh dinner plates that only seem to come out at Christmas.
Love
Holly x
