Death is a sure thing in life, but we are rarely, if ever, prepared for it.

My grandparents lost their daughter in a car accident in the early 1970s.  She was in her early thirties, the older sister to my dad and their two younger sisters.  It was devastating for them all and I don’t know how they managed to carry on with life, but I suspect they did so because they had to.  They had to continue for one another and for the little people who were recent additions to the family.  Less than twenty years later, I was almost fifteen.  I recall my grandmother saying that no one knew what it was like to lose a child, unless you’d lost one yourself.  That was all.  No words could be used to reply to this statement, as her words had said it all.  She had lost a child.  My Dad and his sisters had lost their sister.  It was a chilling moment for me.  It still is.

The loss of any loved one is crushing.  The inexplicable pit you feel inside yourself leaves you confused and helpless.  There are no explanations, regardless of the cause of death.  Religious people say it’s “god’s will”, which seems to help some, but it doesn’t actually take away the pain of missing the person who has died, the pain of knowing the loved one was robbed of his or her life.

For atheists, like myself, the words “god’s will” are empty and can be maddening to those who are in mourning.  Sometimes, it is best just to acknowledge that the death of a loved one sucks.  It sucks.  Whether it’s your child, sibling, parent, grandparent, spouse, cousin, friend, colleague, or your ex, it sucks.

What on earth do you do next?  How do you move on from this?  No one knows, not unless they’ve had a similar experience, and even then, no two people nor situations are the same.  In fact, no two moments are the same, so what works for you one minute, might not work for you the next.  Each second that passes is another second you survived and it’s horrible, until one day it might not feel as horrible.  When does that day come?  You don’t know, until it does.

What can those of us around you do?  We can be there to listen, to talk, to embrace, to scream, to cry, to sit and just be present.  We can remember that after funerals and memorials, you are still mourning each moment you live without your loved one.  We can check in on you, for years to come.  We will be present when you need us and even when you say you don’t need us.

emmadaltonbrown@gmail.com

You should be celebrating, like everyone else, but you’re not.  They took out that benign brain tumour; they cut out the mass pressing on your spinal cord; they removed both of your breasts; they zapped or poisoned the lingering cancer cells; they prevented your heart from failing; they found drugs to keep your autoimmune illness at bay, sort of.  Yet you know it’s not the end.  It will never be the end.

So, the synapses in your brain are working overtime.  After all, your brain is in charge of everything you do, say, think and feel.  It speaks to every muscle, nerve and cell in your body.  Your brain is the control centre of you.  It is making you acutely aware of what is going on in every part of your body.  This is not the case for everyone, but when you’ve woken up inside the realisation that your body has failed to be what the healthy version of it should be, your brain suddenly becomes wise to just how precious health and life are.  You no longer give a fuck about a chipped fingernail, unwaxed leg hair, the fool who disagrees with your ethics, the argumentative colleague, the traffic jam, the broken plate…..you get my drift.

Everyone else is still celebrating, however.  You had a close call.  The outcome could have been so much worse.  You could have died.  You are still alive.  Yeah, they cured you!  And that is what other people see.  They are happy.  It makes them feel much better to know that you are okay.  And to be honest, that’s okay.  Why shouldn’t they get to feel good about all of this?  Why should they be burdened with a bit of realism?  You decide you will simply keep your mouth shut and play along with it.  Perhaps doing so will cure you completely.  You will remain in remission forever and nothing bad will come back, nor grow back.

Positivity and hope absolutely go a long way when it comes to making the most of enjoying each moment you are alive, and you can continue to have a wonderful and joyful life.  But the reality of medical science remains.  It should not be dismissed.  Prognoses have been studied and you cannot avoid how these make you feel.  You need the support of those who love and care about you.  They need the information, so that they may help you.  Hiding it all under the rug that rests beneath your bed is not realistic.  The mound of worry will soon begin to show.

It is not your responsibility to make everyone else feel better.  Trust me, they will survive this!  In fact, you will find that some people do want to be there for you, whenever and forever.  Be wise and let them be there, because your journey will be long, even if it’s shorter than you’d have liked.

Be Wise: Let People Be There For You

emmadaltonbrown@gmail.com