Loss.
This blog post has been a bit of a see-saw for me, I’ve ‘umm’d’ and ‘ahhed’ over whether to write it, started it, then deleted it and procrastinated so hard that you wouldn’t think I chose the topic myself. But I’ve finally managed to put my little chipolata sausage fingers to keyboard so here we go!
Loss, by its very nature is a uniquely personal experience. Sure, there are certain emotions or stages that you expect everyone to go through but the actual experience of it is something like a fingerprint. Each one completely unique.
Over the past year, there has been a variety of loss felt through out my family. Each one has brought with it different experiences and it sort of bought to my attention that there is no manual on how to deal with losing anyone. You all just sort of muddle through it the best way you can.
Just over a year ago, my Granddad passed away, his passing although not unexpected hit me very hard. The idea that this wonderful man wouldn’t be around anymore to flash his cheeky smile at me as he offered me a sweet from his much coveted tin or groan as I failed to grasp the rules of cricket for the seventy fifth time (I did try to make this number related to cricket in an attempt at an ironic joke but the sport goes over my head so much I just couldn’t manage it) or for him to do any number of the wonderful things that made him such an incredible person makes my heart twinge even now. I feel so incredibly lucky to have been able to spend the time with him that I did, I know that many don’t get that opportunity. He isn’t the first family member I’ve lost but he was the first person I lost at an age where I was able to really comprehend what that loss meant.

Earlier in the year, my oldest brother, who I have never had much contact with, took his own life. When I learnt the news, I was initially hit with sadness for those around me who would be affected by this. My mum and my brothers. Once the news had sort of settled so to speak, I was able to focus on my own feelings and what the loss meant for me. In all honesty, I wasn’t sure I had a right to mourn him. We had never really formed a relationship. We had no past. I felt selfish and self-centred for making the sadness in any way about myself.
I struggled to make sense of what I felt until I spoke with a friend. I wasn’t just feeling the loss of those around me, I was feeling the loss of what could have been, previously it had been a steadfast fact that he had always been my oldest brother. And now he wasn’t. It was a totally different type of loss to my Grandad but one that still hit as hard.
Recently, my middle brother and family completed the Three Peaks challenge in his memory for the CALM charity and I couldn’t be prouder of him.
Last week, I attended the funeral of my Great Aunt Connie, who was perhaps one of the loveliest people I think I will ever meet and at nearly twenty-seven, I’m still hoping I’ve got a lot of new faces to see along the way. Her service was truly beautiful. She picked out everything herself from the willow casket to the hymns (I was particularly pleased that ‘All Things Bright and Beautiful’ made an appearance because frankly, it’s one of the few hymns I don’t have to stumble my way through guessing the rhythm of the song.) I haven’t attended many funerals in my life, this one really felt like a celebration. There were tears shed and they were tears of respect and love for a sweetheart of a lady who had a life well lived.

(As a side note, it’s not an exaggeration to say that my Mum and I would have been in fierce demand back in the time when you could pay people to wail loudly at funerals. The women in my family sure know how to cry dramatically.)
Each of the three people I’ve mentioned represent a different type of loss to me. My Granddad was the loss of a loved one and losing that constant in my life. My brother was the loss of a someone I had ties to that were never fully explored, the loss of what could have been. Finally, my Great Auntie Connie was the loss of one of life’s, honest to God, wonderful people, someone worth celebrating through the tears. Each one will always mean something special to me.
Loss can come in many forms and each one should be treated with the respect you would give an esteemed colleague and the care when handling a new-born.
I know they say that the pain of loss fades with time but in a way, and this is not an original thought, I think it’s also ok if it doesn’t. Alright, perhaps not the soul-crippling, gut-wrenching kind of pain, that’s just a horrible feeling. More the kind that reminds you there is now a gap where someone was able to carve out a ‘them’ shaped space in your life. Because that gap can hold more love than you would believe.
There are as many types of loss as there are fish in the sea and whilst I don’t have an exact figure for either of those, I’m gonna say the numbers are high. Not every loss will be equal, not every loss will feel the same but you can be sure that each will leave it’s fingerprint-like mark.
