Quietly

Yes, I know I said I’d be popping on here more frequently when I last wrote to you, but sometimes life, or more accurately, death, has other plans. I suppose I have been hesitant as it would seem wrong to have a grief blog and not write about another experience of grief we have recently been through as a family, and yet, as it is my Mother-in-law and Father-in-law who have both recently died, and as my husband’s family situation is complicated, it is not my story to tell.

However, it has made me think about cumulative grief, sometimes called compounded grief. This is when you face multiple losses in a short period of time, or when you have not been able to fully process a loss before another one comes along. It can result in both intensified and prolonged grieving, where the coping mechanisms that were helping before have too much to handle and don’t work as effectively.

For our family, the two funerals were the first we have been to since Bethany died, which was always going to be difficult. In the same way that each wedding I’ve been to in the past 25 years led me to reflect again on our own wedding day, I now realise that each funeral will always take me back to my daughter’s.

I’ve just got back from my annual work conference, where HR Dept licencees and their teams from across the UK get together to share ideas, learn new things, eat lovely food and have a party. Last year I spoke about Bethany and we raised money at the charity raffle for Grief Encounter in her memory. This year, another colleague was on the stage, sharing their story of her son who had recently died, and we raised money in his memory. A member of the Head Office team had kindly rang me the week before to let me know in case it was triggering and I wanted the option of leaving the room at that part. I chose to stay, found it extremely hard to see her so upset, and was comforted by a couple of people on my table who knew about my situation.

What I realised this time, was that with a number of new starters to the network, there were many people there who had no idea what I had gone through. There were also far less people than last year who asked how I was coping, although a few still did, and I was very touched by their care and concern. I’m finally starting to get used to new people not knowing and with people who know not asking me about it. I will always be grieving, I will always be missing her, but as the years pass, it’s no longer the first thing people think of when they see me, and I’m ok with that.

I came across this poem, Quietly, by Becky Hemsley, this week, which perfectly encapsulates how grief now feels to me.