As I write this, I am thick in the early days of grief. My wonderful father died three weeks ago of oesophageal cancer. We are all devastated; whilst we knew my dad didn’t have long, his death was sudden and unexpected – he went much earlier than we all thought he would.
Grief is a strange beast. It seems to come and go, weaving its way in and out of your day to day being, and appears in various forms. You can feel grounded and capable and handling life well and suddenly the smallest thing can topple you over – the sight, smell or sound of something that somehow reminds you of the person you’ve lost can throw you completely. I feel the varying colours of grief – from the darkest of the bleak blackness of missing the person so much your body aches, to the brightest side where your love for them can carry you through your day.
As each day progresses I learn more about my dad, about my relationship with him, and about myself. I feel myself slowly changing, changed by the feeling that losing a parent brings. There is such sadness in mine and my family’s life right now. But the light appears when I think about my courageous, enormously funny and endlessly loving father and I sense the parts of me that are boundlessly linked to him, and I feel myself growing as a person, nurturing those aspects of myself that he nurtured in me.
And at times, of course, I cry. If I can allow myself the time and space to cry – time to myself away from my kids, perhaps with my partner or sometimes alone – I can immerse myself in the sadness and it feels physical, like a necessary physical release.
And I’m aware that time is so relevant right now. People keep telling me to take time to grieve, to take time to myself, and that with time I will feel better.
And time is so important to us all, wherever we are in our lives, whatever we are experiencing. Allowing yourself space and time to feel, to think, to get back in touch with yourself. Finding something that allows you that connection enables you to breathe, to take stock, to re-centre.
I am learning that, even with time, this grief isn’t something that I can ‘get over’, ‘move on’ from; it is imprinting itself in my identity, my way of thinking, of being. I’m taking the time to feel it, to express it, to understand it and, really, to welcome it in.
“The deep sorrows of life are not feelings we can get over by dealing with them; they are wounds which forever live with us and are always morphing with each passing month.“ Kevin A Thompson