Hello Everyone,
This is an account of my own personal experience of grief.
A set of words that I could never have imagined living through.
Since Pat’s death in October of 2015 I have encountered a million irrational thoughts and emotions, unmanageable sadness, bouts of uncontrollable anger, spontaneous breakdowns, sleepless nights, abandoned appetite as well as developing an ever present feeling of loss, which is hideous and overwhelming.
Cradling Pat’s lifeless body in my arms, feeling the coldness of her skin and seeing the blueness in her lips and fingertips, watching the pain in my son’s face and hearing his screams whilst pumping his mother's chest are visions that are at the forefront of my mind and appear at their will.
This is my grief and I hate it with a passion.
I look back to October 26th 2015 starting off as a normal day, at the end of that day I was hit with complete shock and devastation that has irreparably disfigured my life and it’s feeling of purpose.
The heartbreak of sifting through Pat’s personal possessions to the pain of driving to the recycling centre day after day and throwing black plastic bag after black plastic bag filled with items that have been carefully chosen on her regular shopping trips has ripped me up inside.
The offensive sounds of laughter from her friends helping to organise her belongings were like hammer blows raining down on my skull, forcing me outside making it impossible for me to return until they had left.
The intensity and the relentless pressure of grief has wreaked havoc with my thoughts and feelings, distorting them beyond recognition.
How can everyone around me continue their daily routine? Do they not know that Pat has collapsed and died?
Why are you telling me about the loss of an elderly parent or someone you knew well and how you felt after they had died 10/15/20 years ago? I don’t want to hear it.
Why do people compare deaths? Your acceptance and unemotional story telling isn’t relevant to my Pat and my grief, can’t you see or feel my distress?
Why am I stood here crying in this shop where I bought you that lamp you loved, I don’t remember driving here. I don’t want or need anything from here.
The pain inside when you couldn’t attend her funeral? One chance to say goodbye, that is all there is.
The people we shared our time with, the places we used to visit creates an overpowering feeling of anxiety inside my gut, I have to get away.
How can you fight this stuff, how the hell can you learn to live with it?
I was close to speaking to a grief counsellor at Cruise but decided against it on the day of the appointment.
I couldn’t stand the thought of pouring my heart out to a complete stranger who hadn’t got the first clue of who Pat was. I figured they couldn’t make me stop hurting, they don’t know me, they don’t know my thoughts.
They will tell me that time will ease the pain and life will become more bearable.
Time stopped for me on October 26th 2015.