My Grief

Although I am still to experience most of what life has to offer, I believe I have cause to say this: grief is one of the worst things a person can experience.

Some backstory:

I’d never lost someone before my Grandad passed, and he was a huge part of my life, so he has left a giant hole that I don’t think can ever be refilled.

Growing up, I visited my Nan and Grandad at least twice a week, and spent almost every weekend with them and my Dad. So, in my mind, I have gone from having a stable, consistent and heartfelt connection with someone, to seeing their empty seat at the dinner time. Instead of laughter, I am now filled with a constant ache and dread when he crosses my mind.

My Grandad and I had a funny kind of relationship. We never shared secrets, and I don’t recall us ever sitting down and laughing for hours on end, but he was one of the best men in my life – and I believe he always will be.

He would be the first person I called after an interview, the first person I would share my holiday photos with, and the person I looked forward to seeing most. And now, as I visit my Nan of a weekend, I see his empty armchair and can only reminisce on the good times we had.

Expectedly, when my Grandad first passed, I was in shock. I read the dreaded text from my Dad, and it didn’t even really compute what had just happened. All I could think to do was console my dad and tell him I love him.

Looking back, I didn’t know the half of the pain my Grandad’s passing would bring me.

There would be no more glances with each other as my Nan swore in the kitchen. No more welcome hugs or kisses good bye. No more weekly updates on my life, or his medical treatment. There was only grief.

An epitome of emptiness that had knocked me to my core.

It was only a month or so after his passing when It really hit me that my Grandad was really gone. I suppose having someone close to you pass, but who doesn’t live with you, can be confusing. There was no daily reminder that he was no longer there – there were just these instances every now and then, when I’d be reminded of him, and it would feel like a punch in the gut when I remembered he’s no longer with us.

I went through a phase of thinking my grief was selfish too, and I guess to some extent, I still believe that.

With cancer taking my Grandad, I saw first hand the pain and anguish he was in, and how much he wanted it to end. It really stuck with me hearing a man I loved so dearly beg the nurses to let him die. So, it felt only right to feel my grief was selfish. For now, my Grandad was no longer in pain, no longer suffering, and could finally be at peace, as he so deserved and wanted. But I couldn’t help but hate life for taking him away too soon.

My feelings were never encompassed by the fact that I was just going to miss seeing him – it was that I was going to miss experiencing life with him. I so wanted to share my career progression, passing my driving test, and getting my own home, but now that would never happen, at least not with him. I would never be able to see the look on his face as I walk down the aisle – now there will only be an empty seat for him on the front row. I just wish he can still see me.

You can sit with your grief for a long time before it hits you. It might hit you when you’re on a walk, and you see their favourite flower. Or when you’re visiting a café they once used to love. It really can be the little things that can make your world crumble.

I guess the purpose of this post is to show that grief is weird, and incredibly painful. My only advice for those experience grief is to take it one day at a time. Live as you would, but don’t do so in vain. And always aim to be the best person you can be; let them look down on you and be proud.

I so wanted to make him proud. And I hope I do, Grandad.