Losing your loved ones is a journey of unbearable sorrow
I can vividly remember the first time I experienced grief. I was eight years old, and my dog Buddy had passed away during his sleep. The previous night we had been playing together in the garden, he looked happy and vibrant, his usual self. I gave him a loving bear hug before I went to bed and told him that I loved him. On that specific night, he didn’t want to let me go as he kept following me everywhere, wishing for me to stay close. “What’s the matter?” I asked. He looked at me with deep sorrow in his eyes, and I just knew it would be the last day that I would spend with him. I woke up the next morning to find Buddy laying on the cold kitchen floor, his body stiff, his eyes closed. I was so heartbroken, and in my eight-year-old mind, I thought my world had ended. I gave him one last cuddle and told him that he was my very best friend. “Goodbye, my sweet Buddy, I whispered. I love you.”
When I was 13 years old, I was at home playing card games with my two older brothers, when at around 9 pm we heard a loud knock at the door. My mum went to see who it was, and after about 5 min, all I could hear were people crying. I ran out into the garden with my brothers, and I could see the fear in their eyes; they knew something terrible had happened. “What’s wrong mum?” asked my brother, nervously. Two people were standing at our front door; we quickly realised they were our neighbours. My brothers knew them well; they were parents to their best friends Mollie and Ava. “We just came to tell you”, said the man with a deep trembling voice. “Mollie and Ava, our beautiful twin girls, were in a terrible accident, and both passed away this morning. I know that both of you were very close to them and I wanted you to hear it from me”. I watched my brothers who were 15 and 17 at the time, falling to their knees, gasping for breath and screaming their friend’s name in agony. My mum ran towards them, but they were inconsolable. All I could think about was the pain they were going through; I could feel it in the atmosphere. I was confused, scared, and desperately anxious. I didn’t know what to do or how to act; I could see my big strong brothers curled up into a ball and I couldn’t do anything to help. Hearing their distress and feeling their sadness was overwhelming, and I didn’t know how to cope. It was one of the darkest moments of my teenage years, and I will never forget it.
That day I learned about the fragility of life and how no one is immune to suffering and loss. We navigate day after day with the idea that we are invincible, but nothing is further from the truth. We live a journey that is both tumultuous and serene, and all we can do is hope to have the strength to overcome pain and heartbreak when we experience it. I believe that grief never goes away; it only becomes more tolerable with time.
I was 21 years old when I felt a pain like no other before; my grandmother had passed away after a long battle with cancer. She was the light of my life. Beautiful, smart, funny, caring, generous and madly creative. When she died, I was beyond devastated. This time I had experienced grief at a more personal level and I didn’t know how profound an impact it would have on my life.
I was at university one-day having coffee with a friend. We were laughing and talking about our weekend adventures, planning what we would do for the summer holidays. I remember that a few moments before I received the dreaded phone call, I had an overwhelming feeling of sadness, and I couldn’t understand why. As I went to answer the phone, I knew it wasn’t good news, “Oh my darling, cried my mother, I’m so sorry”, she said in a soft-spoken voice. “Is it, Gran?” I desperately asked. “She’s at the hospital. You have to come right away”, she answered. I got there as quick as I could, taking shortcuts to avoid any traffic, while my eyes kept filling up with tears. All I could think about was getting there in time to say goodbye; I wouldn’t have been able to deal with the grief if I had got there late. As I walked along the hospital corridors searching for her room, I felt her close to me, like she knew I had arrived. I got to her place, and she was laying on the bed, awake. I immediately held her in my arms. I told her that I loved more than anything in this world and thanked her for everything. She looked at me and whispered, “I couldn’t leave without saying goodbye; you were always the brightest star in my sky”. She gently closed her eyes, just as heaven had gained an angel.
My older brother was the most beautiful young man. Tall, dark and handsome, with a brilliant mind and a wonderful sense of humour. He was passionate beyond belief and very talented; he could sweep you off your feet in a second, and make you feel like the most special person. He was my best friend and the only person in this world that I could trust. He always knew how to put a smile on my face whenever I felt down; he was there when I was healing my broken heart and helped me through the pain. He was an avid supporter of every dream I had and always believed in my capabilities. I was immensely grateful to have a brother like him and experience life by his side. I couldn’t imagine being without him, not for a second, but unfortunately, life had other plans.
My brother passed away when he was 33 years old. I cannot begin to explain the magnitude of pain that I felt when I heard the news; it was far deeper than what I could withstand. The saddest part of all was that I never got a chance to say goodbye. I was living overseas and couldn’t reach him; I was so heartbroken. He suffered a heart attack due to an underlying health condition. It was never detected, and there was nothing we could have done to prevent it.
After my brothers passing, I became a shadow of my former self and shut the doors to life. I didn’t want to know about anything or anyone; all I wanted to do was numb the pain. It took me three years to get my life back to some normality, but things were never the same. The colours in my life always carried a shade of grey; the sadness overshadowed every happy event; memories were vivid and present. Missing him was overwhelming, and knowing that I would never see him again was tragic.
After a time, I learnt to live with it. Even though the pain was still profound, I felt I could deal with it in a better way. Life had taught me that though grief, we become more resilient and love deeper.
To know pain is to reach the limits of your strength, beyond the storms of your heart. Then you must become the force that is required to endure it.
