How do you cope with grief when people stop asking?
I woke up before sunrise with a tight chest. Then I let out a quiet sob while I lay on my side. I only remember the dream in fragments.
My dad was there, and I seemed to be reliving the last moments of his life. No tangible details. Just the awareness that he was going away soon and that I was dreading it.
My mom was there. I remember hugging her as if to say goodbye, as if she had been diagnosed with a disease that would take her away, too.
Dream “me” was breaking down about the impending loss — the former having already happened in real life. The latter one I constantly dread as I watch old age take a toll on my mom.
My girlfriend was there, or the thought of her, and I was anxious about my parents not getting to meet her.
I often have these dreams, each one being a new scenario but evoking the same pain — forcing me to relive the loss over and over again.
Sometimes, the grief sneaks up on me in my waking hours from the most mundane things. Papa’s voice in an old home video. A closet full of untouched clothes, a quiet kitchen, unworn slippers in the corner of the room. It’s the odd realisation that my dad never heard of the word “COVID” nor see the final season of his fave show Game of Thrones.
This side of grief — the part long after the funeral, condolences, and last goodbyes at the burial — is a lonely one. When the dust has settled, and the comforting presence of friends and family has faded out. It’s no wonder people say the day after the burial is always the hardest.
The world spins on, and you stay in the same place.
Anyone who’s lost someone would agree that you don’t move on from grief; You just learn to live with it.
How do you feel less lonely on this lonely side of grief? Talking about it seems to help. And so I write.
“Sharing a true vulnerable story is a lot like raising a flag up a flagpole.
Other people see it. If they agree with it and it resonates with them, they come and stand under it with you.”
— Author and TED speaker Laurel Braitman, on the benefits of storytelling
Maybe, in our shared loneliness, we can feel less alone.
