Grief isn’t always sadness –sometimes it’s fear; elation; courage; jealousy… Sometimes it’s days in bed crying; sometimes it’s trying to reject good stuff to protect myself. And sometimes it’s humour. The day my dad died, or maybe it was the day after, we were all in the house and the phone rang. It was someone phoning to speak with dad. My beautiful but blunt brother said ‘no, sorry, he’s dead’ and me, my sister, my mum and my two aunties howled with laughter – the type of laugher that’s full of pain that ends in questionable tears.
When my dad died, I pooped myself three times in two days. Once walking to his allotment, once driving to my mum’s house and once in the bath. Grief is physical: trauma is physical.
I recently created my genogram, as I am studying to become a family therapist. I asked a lot of people about my dad. No one person had the same relationship or the same experience with him. I had a wonderful relationship with him, other people didn't. That can make it challenging to talk about him and be together in our grief.
Death makes people awkward and uncomfortable. It’s been four years and no one asks about him. People apologise for saying the words ‘heart attack’. The people in my life were supportive (so supportive). But I want to talk about my dad. I’d love a friend to ask me ‘how do you feel now, four years later?’ or ‘What was your dad’s worst joke’ or ‘What was your favourite thing about your dad?’ Or for somebody to bring him up in conversation, instead of me doing that. Learning to be unashamed of people’s awkwardness was really hard.
A week before my dad died suddenly, my marriage ended pretty suddenly too. At the time I couldn’t believe both things were happening at the same time, but reflecting on it now, I realise it was a gift. My dad dying put things into perspective, which made the marriage stuff a lot easier and less important, maybe. I also think about how I would rather have both things happen at the same time, than a few years apart. At the time I wanted to die, but now I realise that those two events in my life changed me dramatically forever in an amazing way. I really love what I’m about now, what I do in the world and how I feel about the world. I value how much I care, my compassion, my personality and my dad’s terrible sense of humour which I carry every damn day. For that I’m so grateful to him forever, and he knows that.
When my dad died people said ‘it will get easier’. I absolutely hated those people, murderous hatred! My pain was too much but time has passed and there is joy in life again. I'm absolutely not suggesting you to tell people that it will get easier but maybe just letting you know it will get easier and different. Some days a giant boulder, some days a stone in my pocket.
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Death and dying, life and living.
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