First 4 days with grief

This text is personal, though what qualifies as “personal”? Life doesn’t arrange our emotions in neat boxes.

Grief has lingered over our lives for months, but four days ago it entered the house. Unapologetically, it claimed its space, and I think it’s planning to stay.

‘’Death is part of life.’’ We toss around a phrase that then abruptly becomes reality. Tomorrow. Or in a couple of days, the doctor says.

You enter a parallel universe of shared pain. Life continues but it’s absurd, like a dream. We show up, go to work, google medical terms, cry a little and find gratitude in the same breath.

At times, life seems normal, like nothing bad can happen - until grief finds you again and you suddenly forget what you were doing (does it even matter?). At bedtime, you read stories to children who wonder how can you be sad because you smile. You wake up in the middle of the night to check your phone for that call.

Two days later, the call arrived.

We sat in a taxi to the hospital, and I read aloud news about a terrorist attack killing 137 persons 1,000 kilometers away. He'd have been the first one to comment on the horrible news but, at this very moment, he drew his last breath. The absurdity of life.

‘You can touch your father, he’s still warm’, the nurse says and leaves us alone. It’s peaceful, unreal and I’ve no words to describe the emptiness.

Then, the nurse gives me a match and we lit up a candle for him. They've everything prepared. In this place, death is a staff member.

When we return home, grief has occupied every corner, even his empty spot on the sofa. What should we do with you now?

Anything, grief tells us, there’s no right or wrong way. But be aware that, like an attention-seeking toddler, I’ll unexpectedly demand your full presence. You might be walking down the street, taking a shower, reading another condolence message, or catching a glimpse of his beloved watch on the table. At any moment.

Don’t fear the loneliness of the journey. This is what I've learnt so far. While I cherish every word from friends, family, colleagues, even strangers, I know grief wants to spend time alone with me. It’s not in a hurry and doesn’t let you rush either. Grief invites you to dive into the past and future, into the meaning of life and unanswerable questions you've been pushing aside for years.

Grief; it's a name for the madness of life, an attribute to the uniqueness of life. It carries the weight of love; it's love without a home. Grief can paralyse you, but it can also make you fly. We’ve many descriptions for grief, trying to understand it.

To all of you who mourn, and I know there are many: I apologise for not fully understanding your pain before, now I do. If surviving a day feels impossible, start with an hour. Your grief is unique, it's yours, but many of us know what it can feel like. Everyone will, sooner or later.

Death reminds us that we're still here. Even if we all know how this is going to end, for now, we shall live.

Sooner or later, the shadows will shrink, and the light will grow brighter. Life won’t seem so absurd anymore. Grief will remain, but it will mature and find calm, just like you.

To my father