Grief should be shared. So why does this feel so difficult to do? This is the question I, and many others, have had to grapple with. It seems simple, a problem shared is a problem halved. However, sometimes it feels like no one can relate, at least not in the same way as you. You may even feel like you are a burden if you share.
Grief is a complicated process for this exact reason. It feels like you are under water and everyone else is above the surface. You try and swim up to them, but their voices are muffled, and you can never quite reach them. Much like the deep depths of the ocean, grief is dark and lonely. Eventually you will start to swim up and see the light. However, this often happens when you no longer feel like you need help.
There is also the problem of denial. At the exact moment that everyone feels you need the most help and support, you are trapped in a bubble of no or little acceptance. Then at the crucial moment, when the bubble pops, you are aware that people have left. It may appear that the people who remain think: “it has been a few months now”, “they are fine” or “they will get over it.” But does it ever become something you can forget? You always carry it with you. Whilst everyone moves on with their lives and begins talking about their own problems, you get left behind. You begin to wonder if anyone else is looking up at the sky like you do. It sure seems like everyone else is focused on having both feet on the ground, not so much concerned about what, or who, may be in the sky.
Some people even seem uncomfortable with grief when it is, in fact, your reality. You begin to hope that someone will eventually get over the initial awkwardness and say something to break the ice. This, in my case, was difficult to communicate with my peers at school. I was 17 and had little awareness of grief other than the simple meaning of loss. My schoolmates were similar, having had little training on how to approach a griever because of course no one expects to lose someone so young. But why do we tiptoe around what may unfortunately be a reality?
If a problem shared truly is a problem halved, why did it feel like my problem was not a thing anyone could understand.
You also begin to see aspects of life differently. Soon anniversaries become a mix of happy and painful memories. Whereas before, anniversaries celebrated how long your parents had been together, or your friendships, or partners. You can easily feel alone. You realise no one your age can relate to you. You begin to question why you were ever complaining about homework when now you would do anything to go back to that kitchen table doing homework with the one you lost.
Surprisingly, you begin to fear phone calls. Every sound of a phone ringing transports you. However, it is not all pain and fear. It is also connection. That very first proper hug that relieves your anxiety. The first party you enjoy without thinking, ‘I wish they were here’. Even the first night you make it through without crying. These are milestones I never thought I would have to celebrate. The journey I have gone through. I would do anything to get them back, and never live this life. But I am proud of how I have adapted and how so many must adapt to a life of little awareness of your very own story. You are who you are now because you allowed yourself to become someone stronger. You overcame what most people have not, which is something to celebrate. It is something to talk about. So, let's start talking.
