Why Writing My Grief is Helping Me to Process It
I don’t believe that nothing can prepare you for grief. The entire world is made up of it, of practice runs, of people dying — the news reports on it every day. We’re often told of something awful and devastating happening, yet rarely is constructive advice offered on the topic of grief.
In fact, one of the only things I appreciated hearing was “it is just shit, and you won’t ever get over it, but you will learn to live with it.” Honestly, if anyone had told me that I’d one day get over it, I’d have vividly visualised punching them in the nose. That’s because, in my mind, remembering and feeling grief, devastation, misery, pain and all that stuff was somehow a testament to how much I loved my sister.
One of the things I had and have a real issue with wasn’t always that she was going to die, but it was that I was going to live. That, one day, 25 years will have gone by and I’d have lived longer without her than with her — I hated that. The memories would become dimmer, and I’d be left largely with photos and videos to remember her by. Sophie wasn’t afraid of death, but she was afraid of how she’d die.
A piece of advice I did start to see dotted about on advice columns, heard from medical professionals and friends, was that the most important thing to do was to communicate about it. You can’t keep this sh*t bottled up, it doesn’t work. For many, expressing your innermost feelings probably feels like a privilege — we live in a society where showing sadness feels like it is perceived as a weakness. This is honestly one of society’s worst fallacies yet, being able to show, handle and deal with emotion is the biggest sign of strength there is.
I decided, after about seven months of watching my sister die, that I couldn’t have given a single f*ck about what most other people thought of me afterwards, I needed to feel everything without judgement or hindrance. Freedom to feel is liberating, to express grief, to cry. It’s healthy. It’s not simple, though.
Writing through grief allows you to express yourself, unhindered and uninterrupted. One of the best things I found was writing and talking to my sister. It sounds weird, why would I do that? She’s dead. Yet, it felt soothing. I’m under no illusion or certainty that she can hear or read what I’m saying or writing, yet somehow in the moment, it feels like that could be possible. I suppose that part depends on your belief system. These blogs act as a way of keeping her alive and sharing her story, and I’ve barely scratched the surface.
Writing about your grief is a way of acknowledging it and facing it head-on. It won’t take it away, but it will help your brain to process it. Grief doesn’t need to be the testament of love, but instead, remembering — I’m not there yet, I still feel a lot of grief, but I love talking about her. It keeps her memory alive and, as she was the number one person in this world who could make me laugh and smile, it means reliving the good moments too.
