I’m in my 30s. I can’t say I’m still young but at this age, I’m at the point when I’m seeing the passing away of a family generation - my grandparents.
My grandpa passed away a couple of years ago and I miss him sometimes. I still dream of him often.
Last year, my grandma - who was very close to me, passed away and I was thoroughly devastated. It was the time I could truly appreciate what people meant about ‘stabbing the heart’. I could literally feel a sharp pain at the heart when I thought about my final moments with her, the last meal we had, and the trip to the hospital… it’s very very painful.
Over time, it has healed somewhat. I don’t feel the ‘stab’ anymore, but it’s depressing to say the least. We stayed together, so the house is filled with memories of her.
I miss her a lot, and I often lapse into a depressive state when I think of her again. Last month, my grandma’s younger sister (grandaunt) passed away which signaled the passing of her whole generation.
Could people here share with me some strategies and experiences on coping with bereavement? I can’t let this bother me my whole life… but I miss her a lot and it’s very very sad.
MODERATOR NOTE: This was posted in the “General Questions” forum, which is intended for questions with factual answers. I think you’ll get better responses in MPSIMS, so I’m moving it.
PERSONAL NOTE: I don’t think it ever goes away entirely, but time diminishes the pain. Life goes on, despite deep sadnesses. One thing I find is trying to focus on the young, doing activities with children (in my case, grandchildren) helps me focus on the hopeful future rather than despair for the lost past.
I was not close to my grandparents, so when they passed (when I was young) it seemed like a distant event and was not close to home. Death of a family member was a far-off thing. I have never been to a funeral.
My mother died in 2008 and my father died in 2011 (both too young). Dad shielded me somewhat from mom’s death, but when he died there was no one to protect me. I am still feeling the aftereffects, still feeling the pain (I miss both of them).
I, too, will be interested in the responses to this thread.
My father died when I was an older teen and my mom died when I was in my mid-20s, so I know how it feels to lose important people. My father has been dead over 10 years now, so I can look back on how things went over the years of grief and what I thought was helpful.
First, realize that grief often is a drawn out process. The first year is the hardest for many people, but it’s not like it just goes away after that. You have “good days” and “bad days” for a long time afterward. There are still times when, under the right circumstances (such as a very emotional time like my own wedding) I may still cry about their deaths, but certainly not as often as before. The ache and the constant weight on my shoulders is not there like it used to be. My life will never be quite as carefree as it was before they died, but over time the happy days have come more often than the bad ones.
Second, I think that it is healthy to talk about those we’ve lost and remember them. Don’t try to forget them or never speak of them. Talk about the good memories and encourage those who also remember the person to tell you nice stories about them. For me, talking about good memories keeps my parents alive in a sense. When someone dies, your relationship with them is different, but they are still a part of you.
For example, I’ve always really liked thisarticle by the second wife of a man whose first wife died. I think it’s beautiful how that couple still remembers the first wife with fondness, rather than trying to act like she never existed.
And, finally, I think it helps to try to look for new bonds to fill some of the emptiness left behind. Make a concerted effort to make new friends, look for opportunities to volunteer with vulnerable groups such as elderly people, children, animals or whatever it is that appeals to you. Keeping busy, staying socially engaged, and feeling like you are part of something bigger than yourself is a good tonic for many problems in my opinion.
Grief for me ebbs and flows like a tide only a lot less predictably. While we don’t like it, it is a normal experience and not to be rejected. It seems that many people who try to suppress it have problems later in life. I like to think of grief work as cleaning the house so the next time I have a loss I’m not piling more grief on top of old, unresolved grief. You may find that in time and with practice that you will have some control over when and how you grieve as well.
Life is a series of gathering up the gifts of living and also gathering up the losses. You have begun that process. I try to gather as many gifts as possible (kindnesses, beauty, friendships) so that my life isn’t overcome by the increasing losses.
I think if you accept grief you learn how to walk through it so that when it comes to visit again you feel less helpless and unsure about what it will do to you. When you have grieved a series of important deaths it becomes easier to say, “Oh, there you are again. Come in and sit. I know how to spend time with you, you unpleasant companion.”
If you are a reading person there are some good autobiographies of people who have lived with grief. Those help sometimes. The poetry of Gerard Manly Hopkins has helped me through a few tough spots.
Oh, the heart stab. I’m sorry. Now you know where the expression, “a broken heart” comes from. Hugs.
Sorry to hear about your grandparents, teddybound. I lost my grandpa this April and we weren’t even as close as you and grandma and it’s still killing me. Then his sister died a month or so later. My mom’s aunt (other side of the family) died shortly after that and so I’m down to just one relative in that entire generation.
I don’t have any advice for you…to be honest my reaction has taken my by surprise. I can’t hardly think of him without crying, and now I am edgy about other people around me dying.
I lost most of my grandparents when I was very young - I was blessed to still have grandpa through my 30s. But that just made losing him so much harder.
It’s just so sad. It has been a year and things have gotten better. But I still have moments when I just zone out and miss her deeply. I can’t seem to get anything going.
I really hope to pick myself up and get things going but the sadness remains. it’s not helping I’m single now. It’s perpetuating because I need someone to fill in the void, but at the same time, my sadness is overwhelming and resisting people.
I hope the sadness ends soon… I’m looking for proof of the afterlife now so I could see her again in the future.
You and I have a lot in common and seem to be at a similar point in our lives.
I’m 38 and both of my parents are only children (brats), so I have no aunts, uncles or first cousins. I have a sister who is 41 and we grew up VERY close to our grandparents. We lived next door to my dad’s parents and I spent time more time at their house than my own. My mom’s mother lived barely a mile away, so we saw her almost daily, too.
My mom’s father died before I was born, so I only had one grandfather. But he was truly a wonderful man and I miss the heck out of him, even though he died in November 1998
I never knew any relatives of either grandfather. My mom hated all of her cousins on my grandma’s side of the family, so I had no relationship with any of them either. But my dad’s mother was one of 10 children and I was (and still am) very lucky to know almost all of them and their children and grandchildren. Out of 10 kids, my Nana had eight brothers and just one sister. She was five years younger than my Nana and their mother died when Nana was just 20 and her sister was 15. Their youngest brother had just turned four years old and there were three other brothers under the age of 12. To those younger boys, they were more like mothers than sisters.
All of my life, I had a VERY close relationship with my Nana’s sister (her name was Betty, but she was nicknamed ‘Pete’ as a toddler, so she was always “Aunt Pete” to me). Being the only sisters and dealing with the loss of their mother and rasiing their younger brothers made them even closer than most sisters. So Aunt Pete (technically my ‘great aunt’) and her hubby, Uncle Allen, felt more like another set of grandparents to my sister and I.
Nana was diagnosed with terminal stomach cancer on Thanksgiving 2011 and they gave her 10-12 weeks to live. My sister and I both moved in with her and took care of her day and night until she died on February 8, 2012.
My Aunt Pete was diagnosed with early-onset Alzheimer’s Disease when she was 63. She was a school teacher and had to retire two years earlier than usual because of the diagnosis. The aunt that I adored faded away slowly over the years and by 2005, she rarely knew who I was. Uncle Allen died in March 2009 and her children had to move her into an Assisted Living facility with a ‘Memory Care’ unit for Alzheimer’s and dementia patients. As hard as it was, I took Nana to see as often as possible.
I am very close to her daughter, despite our 15-year age difference, and she lives in California. I live near the facility where Aunt Pete lived in Georgia, so even after Nana died , I would go by and check on her at least every two weeks or so. My cousin felt helpless being across the country, so I would call her after each visit and give her an update (usually sharing only the good parts and, if there were none, I’d make something up).
Less than a month ago, on August 11th, I gave the eulogy at my Aunt Pete’s funeral. Out of the 10 siblings, only one remains (and his family are all freaky Holy Rollers, so we’re not close).
Her death hit me a lot harder than I expected. In many ways, because of the disease, I felt like she had been gone for years and just an empty shell of a body remained. But all the people who were so special to me when I was young are gone now. My mom’s mother is still living, but at 94 and with countless health issues, she won’t live much longer and I honestly don’t want her to if she has no quality of life.
This may sound harsh, but my sister and I have both come to the realization that we actually loved our grandparents even more than we do our own parents! The oddest part of losing my Nana last year is that I didn’t hurt and grieve the way I expected to. I thought it would hurt like it did when I lost my Poppa or one of my great-uncles that I adored. But spending those last three months with her day and night was an amazing gift. We made sure that everything we’d ever wanted to say, good, bad or otherwise, was said before she died. I also made sure she knew just how special she had always made me feel and that I couldn’t imagine what my life would have been without her love and support!
So I don’t grieve and ache for her like I thought I would….but I miss the hell out of my best friend, which is what she was to me and my sister!!! Any time something happens in my life, my first thought was always to call Nana…and I still do for a split second even though she’s gone. I especially hate mornings because sometimes when I wake up, just for a few seconds, I forget that she’s gone…then I remember and my heart breaks a little bit every time…
There’s so much bullshit advice out there about how to deal with grief and things you should or shouldn’t do to help you through the process. They’re all BULLSHIT! They’re well-intentioned Bullshit, but Bullshit nonetheless!
I had to put my cat to sleep last November and it still feels like a dagger through my chest sometimes. I feel the same way about my Uncle Doug (Nana’s favorite brother) who died in 1990, when I was only 15. I used to feel that way about my Poppa (grandpa) but I’ve worked through that one somehow. I think all of the conversations with my Nana before she died and taking care of her helped me with that. But for at least 12-13 years, the grief and pain from losing him hit me at some point almost every single day!
I went to a therapist a few years after Poppa died and it did not go well. She basically told me that it was unnatural and unhealthy for me to still be in such emotional pain after three years…and I told her to go fuck herself and drop dead!
I’ve read a few books that had at least some useful and helpful information….and some bullshit to go along with it. I’ve found that talking about them with them other people who knew and loved them makes me feel better. I also visit their graves at least every few months and take either red tulips (Poppa’s favorite) of Blue Irises (Nana’s favorite….and mine). I usually spent a few minutes just sitting on the grass nearby, then I spend a few minutes pulling weeds, tidying up the gravel or doing anything else to make it look neat and perfect. It’s the last I can do for them….
This may sound counter-intuitive, and may not help everyone (or maybe not anyone, maybe I’m just odd): sometimes, when I’m feeling really low because I miss my sister, or my father, or others I’ve lost, I go ahead and wallow in it for just a little while. Have a drink, play sappy sad songs, page through photo albums, and cry it out for a half hour or an hour. I find it cathartic.
Others above have described how time cushions the pain. It will get easier, and you’ll help yourself by focusing on the many ways your life has been enriched by the people you love. I hope you find peace.
Hi Beelzebubba, thank you for sharing your story. It was such an inspiration and encouragement.
I truly empathise what you meant by ‘bullshit’. I read through articles and books, but none can truly describe the pain I am suffering (as a result of the loss). Like you, I don’t believe in these theories anymore, and the word ‘bullshit’ captures the essence of the meaning.
My grandma was a homemaker and my primary caregiver. She made breakfast for me every morning. I could remember her sending me off from my doorsteps every day. She would peer out of the window until she could not see me anymore. As I grew older, I decided not o trouble her and wake her up for this routine, so she could sleep longer. However, she chided me and really wanted to do all these for me.
Only now can I appreciate her insistence to do these things. She knew it would end some day and wanted to do these while she could. I regret not waking her up…
sigh
Thanks everybody… it’s nice to know of people who care to read, then generously share their experiences and thoughts.
In “Cast Away,” after Wilscon (the volleyball) was lost at sea, Tom Hanks’ character grieved for his loss in an absolutely uninhibited way; he had no reason whatsoever to hide his grief.
I think that sort of uninhibited physical expression of grief is important and helpful. Several years ago, when a friend was killed in a motorcycle crash, some other friends put together in memoriam videos - nothing more than slide shows set to music, really - and posted them on YouTube. I had a day off of work, and I found myself watching the videos repeatedly, deliberately provoking a state of profound sadness, leaving myself wracked and sobbing. I always felt better aftward.
I recall his widow complaining that in the days after his death, she struggled to find the privacy she needed so she could grieve like that; every time she let out a sniffle or gasp, someone from the next room would come running in to comfort her.
So yes, absolutely, find the time to wallow in it, let it out, process it. Lock yourself in at home alone, and look at pictures, videos, whatever you’ve got; grab the sadness and go through it. Resisting that grief is sort of like feeling nauseous, resisting the urge to throw up - but when you finally do stop resisting and go through that messy process, you invariably feel better afterward, despite your now-disheveled appearance.
In “Cast Away,” after Wilscon (the volleyball) was lost at sea, Tom Hanks’ character grieved for his loss in an absolutely uninhibited way; he had no reason whatsoever to hide his grief.
I think that sort of uninhibited physical expression of grief is important and helpful. Several years ago, when a friend was killed in a motorcycle crash, some other friends put together in memoriam videos - nothing more than slide shows set to music, really - and posted them on YouTube. I had a day off of work, and I found myself watching the videos repeatedly, deliberately provoking a state of profound sadness, leaving myself wracked and sobbing. I always felt better aftward.
I recall his widow complaining that in the days after his death, she struggled to find the privacy she needed so she could grieve like that; every time she let out a sniffle or gasp, someone from the next room would come running in to comfort her.
So yes, absolutely, find the time to wallow in it, let it out, process it. Lock yourself in at home alone for complete privacy and look at pictures, videos, mementos, whatever you’ve got; grab the sadness and work through it. Resisting that grief is sort of like feeling nauseous, resisting the urge to throw up - but when you finally do stop resisting and go through that messy process, you invariably feel better afterward, despite your now-disheveled appearance.
I’m almost 41, and I have one of my grandparents still alive. The first one (the husband of the still-living grandmother) died in 1989 when I was 17 when he was around 70, and the other two passed away in 1997 and 1998 when they were 83 and 82 respectively.
The first one (paternal grandfather) was totally unexpected- he got sick while visiting my aunt and uncle and had some sort of fatal arrythmia that did him in really fast. The other two were as a result of congestive heart failure for one, and the complications of long-term diabetes(like 30+ years) and a series of strokes for the other.
You never forget them, but what ends up happening is that the memories transmute from being painful ones where you miss them terribly, into fond ones that you treasure and laugh about with family. Or at least that’s how we do it in my family; the best times and hardest laughter has often been while remembering the quirks and funny things that the grandparents did or said.
That doesn’t mean that you don’t miss them, it’s just that with time, you come to terms with it. Everyone’s different in that regard.
I’ll say this though; losing my grandfather when I was 17 was a hammer blow and took me a lot longer to deal with than my other two grandparents. I think it’s because of the unexpectedness of his death versus the expectation in the other two’s case. I think I ended up doing a large portion of the grieving ahead of time in coming to terms with the knowledge that they were going to die relatively soon versus having no clue with my grandfather.
That’s not to say I didn’t cry copiously at the funeral, or tear up thinking about them for a long time afterward, but it wasn’t nearly so overwhelming as it had been when my paternal grandfather had passed a decade earlier. Maybe some of that was age and maturity on my part, but I suspect that was less of it than the timing of it all.
When you die do you want family and friends grieving for you for years at a time? I don’t and I assume that my departed grandparents and father wouldn’t either. I think about them frequently but in a way to celebrate their lives. I remember the many good times. I hope that my kids and grandchildren smile when they think of me after I’m gone.
It was only last year? My mom died three years ago and I wasn’t even that close to her and I still tear up from time to time. In my case, I’m mostly grieving that as I go through my thirties, I don’t have any kind of a mom to help me or go to. She wasn’t a good mom, but there is a shelter from having your mom alive that gets yanked suddenly.
It takes time. I would definitely focus a lot on all the happy memories. She wouldn’t want to see you crying all the time.
My mother died in my early teens - a little more than 20 years ago now.
I don’t think there’s any real strategizing about this kind of thing - you feel what you feel and you need to give yourself that space without wallowing. I think it’s as bad to avoid the pain entirely as it is to get stuck in it. Don’t expect to follow any kind of a schedule. Even the five steps of grief are not a strictly linear process. Lacunae Matata’s suggestion works for me.
I also find as I get more and more distance from the event (and I’m talking like 10 years or so) that memories of my mother are now more of a net positive for me than a negative. In a sense, it’s like I recognize that while I’ve lost her as a person, there are permanent changes in me because of my experiences with her and in that sense, she really isn’t gone. So… I wouldn’t say that the pain ends, exactly, but it’s kind of a good pain now. It kind of sounds stupid to say it that way… we really don’t have good words for those feelings.
Yeah, I notice after I go to my grief support group (where I basically sob for an hour) I feel like a literal weight has been lifted off of me. And I know that’s a saying, but I’m serious when I say literal. I feel lighter when I walk out and I stand up straighter.
I suppose this is a good a time as any to say-- try a grief support group. Since it’s other people going through the process too, it isn’t just a therapist spouting BS. In fact, (in my experience) there’s really no advice at all. Everyone just talks about being sad. At first I thought it was kinda pointless, but now I can see how therapeutic it is. My grieving is complicated in a lot of ways (my brother, who was also my very best friend, committed suicide last December) and so I go to a group for other people who’ve lost loved ones due to suicide. And it’s so immensely helpful to say something; something deep and private and awful and mean and embarrassing and scary, something you feel crazy for even THINKING, and then to see everyone nod after you finally spit it out. Sometimes just knowing you aren’t alone, and that others feel this way too and you aren’t losing your mind, can be so gratifying.
When my dad died ten-or-so years ago, I was over it by the time I called the nurses to tell them that their presence was needed in his hospital room and half an hour later I was calling around to cancel his newspaper delivery and notify his landlord. When my puppy died three years ago it took me almost a year to get back to normal.
That’s not to trivialise what you’re feeling - just to note that you can’t deal with it by doing what you’re expected to do and anyone who’s telling you how you should be feeling is talking out of their arse.
Do what feels right to you. If you want to wallow for a while, do it. If you want to shut things down and pretend that it never happened, do that. Just be careful that you don’t indulge your feelings to the point where they’re becoming a problem for yourself or anyone else living around you.