What Grief is Still Teaching Me

For the longest time, I felt like I wouldn't be able to write again, that the writer in me fell asleep never to wake up again. And trust me the feeling is not very pleasant. It hurts when the things that naturally come to you become impossible to do.

It took every ounce of courage in me to write this blog post. But I wanted to do it. No matter how difficult it felt, I had to write again. Not for me but for him, my father. He was the one who encouraged me to create this space; he was also the one who unknowingly passed on the love for words. And even though writing again feels like climbing a mountain, I have to do it, to keep him alive in me, in my words. Because the space created with his encouragement didn't deserve silence. 

So I’m trying to write again, to honour him. What feels difficult to express to anyone, I decide to let the paper be a witness to that pain. Vulnerability is not easy but writing has a way to make it a little easier. Though my biggest cheerleader isn't by my side now, I'm here, and trying to write again.

Life hasn't been easy lately but then again when was life supposed to be easy? Grief can be the most heart-shattering and devastating thing anyone can ever experience. And I’m not here to tell you about what grief is and how you should grieve. Nor am I here to preach about it. This post is different in many ways. Today I just want to talk about the things my grief has taught and is still teaching me.

Your grief changes you

 

Death doesn’t just take the person you love, but a part of you, a version only they knew, is gone with them. I changed in ways I never asked for. And it has been difficult to live with this version of myself. 

You laugh but with a pain in your heart, your eyes are full of tears while feeling empty, every achievement feels incomplete, you start running from yourself while still trying to hold it together. You distance yourself from what you like because what you love is gone. You feel lost while constantly searching for ways to fill their absence. 

You change, and nothing can change that.

 

Grief reveals who stays

 

It feels like I'm going through so many losses all at once. My grief has distanced me from people or rather, people uncomfortable around my grief have distanced themselves from me. Not everyone dares to be there for you, to hold your grief, and that's fine. 

 

Not everyone knows the right words to say or the right things to do. But it's not about the ‘right’ things, it's about holding that space for someone in distress. Some people you expect support from disappear and the ones you least expect it from step up. And I think it’s painful yet beautiful.

I was told by people that they were afraid of being around me, that they feared saying the wrong things, and that they felt uncomfortable around my grief. And I tried to understand even though I didn't want to. It becomes extremely difficult to carry the weight of your grief along with the weight of someone's discomfort due to that grief. It becomes challenging when people expect you to understand them when you are not even able to understand yourself. 

 

Not everyone grieves the same way and that's okay

 

Everyone has their own way of grieving. Some decide to talk about it while others choose to bury it in the deepest corner of their heart. Some need company, some need solitude to process the loss. Some express it through art or writing, while some just prefer to sit with it in silence. Some fall deep into the agony, while others try to keep going for the people they love. And none of them is right or wrong. It’s about what helps you feel better.

People compared our loss with that of someone else too. How they had it worse, how I still got time, how I should try to stay strong. And I honour how some people handle their pain so gracefully. But pain can’t really be weighed on a scale. Nor can we expect people to experience it the same way. 

 

A few months back, my cousin also lost her husband. And I remember someone telling her not to cry when she finally started crying. Women who went through similar losses were preaching to her about how she should act in a way they acted. They absolutely meant well but it shook me to the core.

You do not need to compare your way of grieving with that of someone else. Nor do you need to doubt yourself when others tell you to grieve in a certain way. It’s your loss and you can decide what helps and what doesn’t. (And I’m not talking about spiralling into unhealthy habits, I’m sure you know the difference :))

 

It’s okay to smile while you grieve

 

Grief is strange. One moment you’re smiling, laughing with others and the next moment you’re sitting with your grief sobbing your heart out. People misunderstand it as being moody or being too much. I remember feeling utterly guilty for smiling. One moment I’m in the present and the next I’m suddenly lost in the memories. 

But you are allowed to be happy again while grieving. I won’t lie, I’m still having a hard time accepting this, but it’s true. You are allowed to miss them, but you’re also allowed to smile while talking about them. You can feel sad and cheerful at the same time and it’s okay.

Grief is something many of us carry till our last breath. Healing from it completely is impossible for many. You just learn to live with the pain. 

 

It’s been just 10 months and 7 days since I lost my father. Each moment unfolds a new story, a different kind of pain. I’m still trying to process the loss, still trying to accept that he’s gone but while doing that, I’m also trying to keep parts of him alive in me. One way I’ve figured out is by writing. So, please stick around to witness it. 

 

This isn’t some comeback post. Writing is still a distant voice for me, and I'm trying to listen to it. But you'll hear from me again very soon. :)


Stay healthy!