Grief

There are between five and seven stages of grief, depending on which book or blog you read or which google search attracts your attention. Yance Ford wrote “Grief is a very complicated monster, there’s no real exorcism of it. It has a different form every day” I've found that to be so true Neve, when you decided to leave you left the door open and in entered a monstrous entity called grief.
What I’ve found is that grief is as individual as the person experiencing it. Let me tell you about my five stages since you left.

Denial.

I never knew a person could be in shock for such a long time, I remember when the shock lifted a little and the tendrils of overwhelming sadness seeped into my brain, making me cry uncontrollably for hours on end. The aftermath of trying to make sense of a nonsensical situation. How can you cope with and process something that you truly do not understand? Prior to your death, I didn’t really know anyone who had died by suicide, 10 months before you went there had been a young woman the year below you at college, but it was something that didn’t exist in my world, and certainly not something that could ever happen to my family but sadly it did. 

Anger.

I think anger will forever be my companion on this journey and I certainly don’t think its a transitional phase as the ‘stages’ suggest, perhaps in a natural bereavement but not with how you left Neve. How could you not be angry? I’m angry with you for leaving with no explanation to those that truly loved you. I’m angry with myself for not recognising the signs that with hindsight are all too apparent. I get angry at peoples unkindness towards each other and insensitive use of language. Angry when I hear of another life tragically lost to suicide. Anger isn’t a bad thing, it motivates and fuels the fire to get things done and I’ve learned that people bereaved by suicide can be true warriors that bring about change to an unfair world, drenched in their own sadness they still want to help others and stop other families suffering as they have.

Bargaining.

Ah! The infinite what if’s and if only’s. Its nearly eleven months since you left and I still utter the words ‘if only’ or ‘what if’ at least once a day. Guilt is the companion of bargaining. If only I’d let you sleep in that morning and not woke you up, you were in such a bad mood, did I make your mood worse? What if we’d gone to Whitby that day, you’d have been distracted and perhaps still here. If only we’d not been building your brothers new bed up. What if I’d followed you upstairs. Tragically we will never know what the outcome of that day would have been if any point in time had been different, ultimately its all out of our control and the only person that knew was you, my beautiful girl.

Depression.

I’ve often said on this horrific journey that I’m not depressed, I’m grieving, but there does come a time where your mind moves from the past and rushes uncontrollably into the present and some days into the future. There comes a realisation that you’ve gone and no amount of bargaining will ever bring you back, events cannot be changed. It’s as though up until now I’ve been watching our lives without my glasses on, I can still sense everything but its not quite in focus. Suddenly your life comes into focus and the gravity of it all seems too much to bear which leads to a depressed state. Grief is lonely Neve. We spent so much time together I’ve described you as my shadow, so thoughts of never seeing you again or hearing that laugh makes me feel overwhelmingly sad, its the loneliest I've ever felt in my entire life.

Acceptance.

I always thought acceptance would bring an element of calm and peace over our lives, a feeling of warmth like when its cloudy and the sun suddenly emerges and you close your eyes and move your face toward it to feel its warmth. No. Acceptance is just facing the reality that you are no longer here physically. So I suppose the day I fetched your ashes home was a form of acceptance. I cradled them in my arms as I’d cradled you in life and I accepted that in the ugly green polyurn was all that remained of such a beautiful, caring, funny human being with so much to live for.
Acceptance is recognising that this is our reality now, our life without you in it, a life enveloped in sadness. I know I’ll continue to revisit each stage temporarily and I accept that, our new normal. I can see you rolling your eyes and laughing at me as I say there’s no such thing as normal and I suppose there’s nothing normal about our lives now.

Miss you beyond the stars Nevey

Mum x