Grief, Like Cold Sunlight

Grief.

What does it feel like? A gap that can’t be bridged. Heavy bones. Displacement. Unravelling thread.

What does it smell like? Perfume. Old books. Fresh laundry. Baking bread.

What does it sound like? A clock that hits each minute too hard.

What does it look like? Everything and nothing.

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Every single one of us will lose somebody we love. It’s not something we like to contemplate because understanding it is beyond our comprehension and often our emotional powers.

How can we conceive a life without the person we love in it?

And more importantly, how do we live with it?

I’m here to tell you it’s possible. I’m not here to tell you it’s easy.

I found it incredibly hard to cope when I lost my grandad. My outlook was damaged and I didn’t want to be happy. I didn’t want to be around other people’s happiness, either. There was sunlight on my face and it seldom felt warm. For a while, all I felt was cold sunlight.

When grandad died, life was unrecognisable. And as a confused, self-conscious 15-year old, I was frustrated because I couldn’t make it all make sense. I couldn’t bring the world back into focus. Not only was I dealing with the death of someone I was close to, but I was also balancing GCSEs, puberty and social pressures. It was a turbulent time in my life, and yet, my movements didn’t match the pace of the environment. I was out-of-sync, slow and sombre. I wasn’t aware of it then, but I was grieving.

Even though I’d never been exposed to grief before, I always knew that it was going to be emotionally exhausting and a struggle to process, but that? No. I wasn’t expecting to feel half of what I did and for so many years.

Losing grandad, stung. It really did. Grandad was my childhood. He was the reason for every one of my wide gap-toothed smiles. He saved me from weekends of bickering parents, restored my trust in adults and introduced me to a love that didn’t have to hurt.

A few years on, and I can now say that I’m no longer in pain, no longer bitter and I’ve made peace with grandad’s death. Of course, I still miss him and I always will do, but my life is no longer hindered and haunted by loss; my life isn’t set behind a backdrop of grief anymore. I’ve been able to set myself free, move on and grow from this experience.

I know that I didn’t do enough for my own grief when I was suffering with it and looking back now, I really wish I’d sought help sooner. By the time I did start to actively heal a couple of years ago, my grief had already started to unconsciously fade. Don’t get me wrong though, from what therapy I did undertake, I felt better for.

In the end, for me, it seemed that time, patience and care won out. Once I started to accept that grieving was OK and there was no set deadline on the mourning period, I began to recover, properly. Talking did help me too, but I found that private outlets like writing helped me more. Grieving is a personal experience and I needed space.

I don’t want to advise anyone on how best to grieve or how best to heal because not everybody responds to the same curative methods, but if you are struggling, you may benefit from finding a creative outlet that allows you to express yourself, like painting, scrapbooking or writing a diary. Exercise is great too, a magical mood-lifter that encourages focus and a clear mind.

For social support, you may like to attend bereavement groups, see a therapist or open up to those around you.

I actually met up with a psychic medium a year ago. I’m not saying mediumship is an accurate practice that should be believed, but it did deliver me some comfort, however mystifying.

You can also turn to religion for guidance.

If none of the suggested helps you, please know that there is no shame in seeking prescribed medication. Arrange an appointment with your doctor and talk through your options.

There is no wrong way to grieve. Ask for help if you need it and please know that in time, relief will find you.