My own bereavement.. (My Experience Of Bereavement)

Member Name: Aerith

Product:	My Experience Of Bereavement
Date:	06/09/01 (46 review reads)
Rating:

Advantages: sob story and true..

Disadvantages: sob story...

I have never wrote this down, but I guess sometime, someplace you just need to.
I know I will be crying even as I write it.

Everyone dies eventually.

I always knew that, always knew I would have to face it and stare at myself one day in the mirror and recognise loss. I just didn't think it would happen to me so soon...

Everything was going fine, loving boyfriend, wonderful friends, brilliant home and my course looked set to be one of the best things to happen to me.
I came home for a week... to see my family. I got a phone call at maybe, half eight on friday evening, friday the fifth was it? yeah, the fifth of last year. November. It was my father.

Let it be known me and my father don't have a good relationship, we never have since he and my mother got divorced in the early 90's... so I was cordial to him. When he told me to sit down I got rather suspicious, and mum was out of the house, so I listened as I sat down. Halfway to sitting he said, "Nicola, your grandfather died this morning."
I think my whole world shattered the instant he said that. I remember falling, fainting onto the sofa. I know he was speaking saying "hello" but I couldn't breathe or speak or think. My Grandfather. How I adored my grandfather, he had been my father when dad had left, my rock and support... and now he was lying cold somewhere... I felt sick, and picked up the phone, trying not to cry.
"I have to go, call mum back in an hours time."

I put down the phone and numbly went upstairs. I didnt tell my little sister anything, I couldnt bear to see the pain and loss in her eyes. I sat down on the edge of my bed and breathed in, trying to think and make sense. But nothing did. I phoned my closest friends, they called me, I called my boyfriend but nothing made me feel better. I cried myself to sleep...

After the funeral... I couldnt bear to spend time at my father's house s
o, my uncle brought me back to doncaster. I spent the night drunk on whiskey and singing to myself as I cried. I felt so lonely.

Grief is such an odd thing. You don't know how it will grab you and run away with your senses... I came back to uni and attempted to get on with my studies but found myself feeling lost. I wrote poetry and drew constantly, didnt want to get out of bed in the mornings, drank to make myself feel happy... and always cried myself to sleep. Every single night until after christmas when I finally recognised I needed help. But that's who I am, I never think I need help of any kind, but You will inevitably do one day. My grades had suffered and Uni suspended my studies until I was whole and well enough to continue. I was sent home with all my things, back to doncaster.

I was depressed, I felt ugly and unwanted and cried at the oddest times. I would just see something that reminded me of him and I would cry. My mum got in contact with a counselling service for me, suggested writing to let out my emotions and literally pulled me off drinking altogether. Im T total for a student now, but I know Ill be drinking in moderation come end of september, but then it was important to shake of that despair. I went to sessions and they helped, talking and thinking.

I'm at a stage now that I am comfortable, and happy with where I am and what I'm doing, and I recognise how much just talking to someone helped me.

But just the other day, I saw a picture of my Grandfather, holding me when I was just two months old, and I welled up with tears.
My poetry is still waiting to be read by someone, pictures seen.. but I know this much.

I can look myself in the Mirror now and not see loss, just someone who has had an old and gentle family member and friend, move on before her.

Hope that helps someone.
Aerith, xxx



(updated)

Hi, its been a while, but this is me, saying t
hanks for those who got me through the anniversary of my grandfather's death. Thank you.

Me. xx

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