We all grieve differently

"I'm fine". It's what I said when my beloved grandmother passed away. I felt that in my heart I was ok. I had felt at ease knowing she was not suffering anymore. I felt at ease I had said my goodbyes the night before her passing. I had convinced myself and was struggling to convince my family I was strong and that I could get up and ream a poem dedicated to her at her funeral. Truth was, I could do that. In fact I was strong enough to hide most of my emotions. But is that strength?

I had shared a very close bond with my grandmother. Joy was her name and she lived up to it in every way. She was my baby sitter when I was younger and my partner in crime as I got older. She was my comfort, companion and someone I cherished. She filled in such a large part of my life. Her love saw no bounds and she treated me no different when I converted to Islam 3 years ago.

It was my faith that had convinced me of her being at peace. "Believe in God, and do good deeds" is something essential in my belief in order to enter heaven and I found my grandmother was the epitome of this. My belief was what made me convince myself I was fine and how I became the rock who rarely cried despite being so close to her. What surprised me months later was that I was not so strong.



Believe it or not, I have never had anyone close to me pass away. I have never had someone who formed a huge part of my past and present leave my life. I was not used to the thought of death. That is what changed me. I started to focus on death. My mind dwelled on it. I thought about it almost every day. How can people just go?

My faith tells me their souls go to heaven and that is what I believe but I am still left with that emptiness.

At the same time as my grandmothers passing, my cousin had attempted suicide and was in a critical condition. Soon after her funeral, he too passed. His grandmother, sister in law to my grandmother, had lost her grandson and best friend in a couple of weeks. Sadly she too passed this month and like before I held it together.

But here is where I fall apart....

When people get on with life and just think lovingly of the person, I focus on the death. I focus on the ending and have a nauseating feeling of emptiness. My thoughts have become dark and I have changed in my outlook and behaviour. I have become snappy. I have become detached. I have not been able to return to my family home since my grandmothers funeral. Why? Because death is there and I am afraid of it. I don't even know why I am afraid.

All I know is that I am still grieving and I still get upset in my own way. Sometime I wish I could cry because at least people would still see I am grieving. But I don't and many are just left with a sometimes detached, sometimes irrational, sometimes lost woman.