Something Beautiful Remains

If they knew your pain, they would know...?

This was the third question of the first exercise at Kirsty Waite's Group Coaching Mastermind session.

Twenty minutes into the session, with the question of pain hanging in the air, I felt the hot prickle of tears stinging my eyes as my throat closed over and grief washed over me. The exercise worked; I couldn't have been more vulnerable, unable to hide or deflect from the actual pain I felt. If this is what it takes to build the foundations of trust within a group, then mine will be unbreakable.

You see, I have never been in the level of pain as I am at this point in my life. It is a pain that will come to us all, and I am sorry to say probably more than once in our lifetime.

Grief is like living two lives. One is where you pretend that everything is alright. The other is where your heart screams silently in pain.' – Donna Ashworth

My pain started as a small ripple as the enormity of the news of mum's terminal illness sunk in. As the months passed, the ripples became deeper and larger, ?touching all areas of my life, the ripples turning into tides and then the inevitable Tsunami of grief as mum left us. Waves of grief crashed over us again and again. Ebbing and flowing but never leaving.

Today (1st May 2022) I am heavy with sadness as it should be a day celebrating Mum and Dad's wedding anniversary. Last year we were in a flurry of activity as we gathered for a garden lockdown party to celebrate their 50th wedding anniversary.

This year, however, is very different. At sunrise, I set off to sit on mum's memorial bench at Aberdour. On my own, watching as dawn turned to day whilst listening to mum's playlist.

I am sad simply because she isn't here – she is MISSING - FROM - ME.

I am sad because I know my family's pain and the void mum has left.

But it is my Dad, oh my lovely, kind, sweet Dad. If my heart breaks, then it shatters into pieces for my Dad.

There is something so jagged and throbbing about grief, the insult to injury, that you cannot fix it for anyone else. You can't take away their pain, no more than you can take away your own.

Let it in no matter how painful, embrace it, acknowledge it and know you will not be ok for quite a while. Of course, you aren't, and how could you possibly be? And that's ok.

For anyone going through loss, let me say, you have to feel this pain, claws and all. Let it in no matter how painful, embrace it, acknowledge it and know you will not be ok for quite a while. Of course, you won't, and how could you possibly be? And that's ok. Let your heart feel the grief so you can start the healing process.

This level of grief means there was great love. That is why it hurts so much.

In time the pain of your memories will turn to comfort as you remember all you did together. You will never stop grieving but you will change around that grief. Even in the five months since mum passed I can sense the shapeshifting nature of grief.

So, ‘If they knew your pain, they would know...

...that I care, I will always act with kindness and compassion first and foremost, you have no idea what someone has lived through or what they may be living through. Life is beautiful but it can hurt. ?

And in the words of Tina Turner and the song mum chose to be played at her funeral, ‘With every life that fades, something beautiful remains.’

It sure does mum, thank you, love, and miss you always and forever.

Heather's Media Hub will release The Grief Podcast - Everything Has Changed late 2022.         

This poem captures the engulfing feeling of loss when you lose someone so close. I read this poem as a tribute to mum at her Wake, I hope it helps you x