Thursday, 18 August 2016

This Grief Thing

In a beautuful Breton church Louis lit a candle for his aunt, my younger sister who died three weeks ago now. Her suffering has ended.  May she rest in peace.

Sure I've experienced  grief before but this is different.  After all the person who I used to share a bedroom with has gone.  There's little of the denial, bargaining and anger that Kubler Ross described in her five stage model.  I always suspected that grief was more individualistic than this.  Yes, occasionally it feels as if depression, the third stage, looms large again.  I'm tearful at the drop of a hat,  intermittently I sleep poorly and lack focus. But I know it's not the real thing because of the immense pleasure that I can take from the little things in life. A beautiful painting, a friendly dog, a corny joke from my son, the still warm buttered baguette from the bread van that I am nibbling on while I write this post: All these things fail to hit home when I've been properly depressed but I'm  appreciating them greatly at the moment.

At times it seems incongruent to be enjoying myself on holiday when we've not yet had the funeral.  But I wouldn't like my friends and family to put their lives on hold if I died.  I know Esther wouldn't have wanted that either.  From up on her special cloud that Ibza Queen Vikki  assures me that she lives on, I expect that she had a good laugh at a grown woman pretending to be a shark in a pool the other day.  

 Yes, sometimes there are twinges of guilt.  Why should I experience joy and be silly at such a sombre time?  But I cast these thoughts away.  I'm accepting emotions as they  come to me.  The surprise is that they're not all tainted with inevitable sadness.  There's an immense sense that life's for the living and maybe this is the way that we can best honour the loved ones who are no longer with us.  


  1. I found myself singing yesterday and thought, maybe I shouldn't be doing this.

    1. Thinking of you as well. Yes we should sing - from our very core. xx

    2. Thank you. It must be harder for you because your sister was so young. My Uncle had a long and full life, but still sad that he didn't make the 100 he was hoping for.

    3. It's sad whatever age a person is when they die. I learnt that when I first qualified as an OT and was surprised that the family of a 102 year old who were grieving. Take jolly good care of yourself and relish those lighter moments. xx

  2. Both DH and I lost sisters, his at a young 26 and mine at 56. 20 and almost three years later, waves of sadness pop up. Just spent a week with SIL's 22 year old son, only two years old when she died. The flood of what should have been was there. Thinking of you and know while life goes on, my handsome and kind nephew being evidence, your entitled to hold your grief as long and when you want and need.