An 'Unproductive Grief'

When planning the structure of my book, I knew that the point of my mum’s passing had to be a (if not, the) pivotal moment for me in my story. This may seen strange considering there are other life-changing events sprinkled throughout. 

Marriage.

Death of other loved ones. 

Childbirths.

A stroke.

My mum's passing was life-changing, not just because of who it was. Moreso, it was because - before she died, death was something that happened in films and to other people. 

Death was theoretical. 

Distant. 

When death happens in such close proximity to your life, it doesn’t just break your heart - it rewires your brain. 

They were here, now they’re not. 

At first, you may be swept up in the motions of it all. Distracted and pacified by the messages, the sympathy cards, the funeral arrangements. Then the dust settles and the ache remains.

The world moves on and somehow the feelings don’t. 

I think to say that grief is a ‘long-haul’ experience is an understatement. I’m only approaching twenty-nine years of life, so my advice should (and I’m sure will) be taken with a hefty pinch of salt. However, I can’t help but imagine that the processing of grief is a lifetime experience. Thinking back, the signs of that being true were available to me had I looked/listened closely.

Walk into a retirement home and ask each person to tell you about their own mothers. I’m sure you’d hear and see grief re-experienced as if it were last week and not 40+ years ago. 

I reflect that this loss was 8 years ago now and I wonder if I have truly ever allowed myself to feel the grief. Each time I have felt slightly overwhelmed by the grief, I’ve closed the door of my mind and turned it away. 

All under the guise of, 'it isn't the right time’ to process it.

Even when I write that sentence now, a part of me takes note of that word: ‘process’. ‘

Processing’ your grief makes it sound productive. Makes it a strength, maybe? 

I wonder whose permission feels needed to allow an ‘unproductive grief’.

To have a grief that doesn’t have to look like a strength to others. 

You may have held everything together for a long time, and maybe you’re waiting for permission to have your turn at ‘falling apart’ a bit.

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