Thank you so much, Rachel, for writing such an eloquent piece about catastrophic tragedy and grief. I couldn’t have been so eloquent when my husband had a cardiac arrest while cycling. It’s now been 11 years but I feel every word you’ve written - the pain, anger, exhaustion, stomach churning reminders and that depth of loneliness when the hooks have been ripped away. In a form of self preservation and a feeling of security, I walked around town and had a lasagne lunch at the same time every day in the same restaurant for 2 whole years. Like you, I was new to the area and I had to establish that new me, and meet new people as friends and family drifted back to their own lives. I started to write Irish Gran stories on twitter each day inventing a character, Grandpa, that was my husband. It gave me a chance to relive our lives, invent what should have been and dream what could have been.
This is such a good post. Catastrophic bereavement is so far beyond the understanding of most people- so different from a loved one dying from old age or an extended illness- that even as a friend who cares about you, I was unsure what to do or how to help or if I was just butting in and being annoying. Having these suggestions of how one can support someone else going through a similar horrendous experience, will help others. ❤️
Thank you for this, Rachel. A dear friend has just lost her 19 yr old nephew in a car accident, an incident that has torn a hole in the whole family. I am struggling to know what to do to support her, and her daughter of similar age whose cousin she has just lost. Swimming alongside them seems to be appropriate whilst they navigate their grief.
I don’t know if it will be helpful for you to know this but I was on the verge of killing myself yesterday. I am so deep in hurt and despair and sadness and it feels as though it will never end.
Reading your words on here made me realise that it wouldn’t be easier for my family to be without me. It’s given me a push to keep trying, so thank you x
This all rings true for my catastrophic grief as well. I remember likening it to having had half my body sliced away and badly cauterised and I was bleeding out. It destroyed me. Four years on, I’m starting to be able to think about the future, but it really has taken that long.
Thanks for this. The feeling of despair is just overwhelming at first. The coping of emotions becomes better over time, but the desolation of the loss never leaves you.
Thank you, I am very grateful for your post Rachel. I can feel bits of it seeping into me in a helpful way after loosing my youngest child, 31 years old, they took their own life nearly seven weeks ago (I could tell you that in days and hours!) I recognise the shitty island and I am recognising those who are swimming beside me. I sometimes welcome others not quite knowing what to do as it matches my inabilities. Someone sent me this quote from Tagore which so match my feelings is helping me not to completely drown when under the water.
“Those who are near me do not know that you are nearer to me than they are
Those who speak to me do not know that my heart is full with your unspoken words
Those who crowd in my path do not know that I am walking alone with you
Those who love me do not know that their love brings you to my heart”
Thank you so much, Rachel, for writing such an eloquent piece about catastrophic tragedy and grief. I couldn’t have been so eloquent when my husband had a cardiac arrest while cycling. It’s now been 11 years but I feel every word you’ve written - the pain, anger, exhaustion, stomach churning reminders and that depth of loneliness when the hooks have been ripped away. In a form of self preservation and a feeling of security, I walked around town and had a lasagne lunch at the same time every day in the same restaurant for 2 whole years. Like you, I was new to the area and I had to establish that new me, and meet new people as friends and family drifted back to their own lives. I started to write Irish Gran stories on twitter each day inventing a character, Grandpa, that was my husband. It gave me a chance to relive our lives, invent what should have been and dream what could have been.
Thank you again. Carrie xx
This is such a good post. Catastrophic bereavement is so far beyond the understanding of most people- so different from a loved one dying from old age or an extended illness- that even as a friend who cares about you, I was unsure what to do or how to help or if I was just butting in and being annoying. Having these suggestions of how one can support someone else going through a similar horrendous experience, will help others. ❤️
Thank you for this, Rachel. A dear friend has just lost her 19 yr old nephew in a car accident, an incident that has torn a hole in the whole family. I am struggling to know what to do to support her, and her daughter of similar age whose cousin she has just lost. Swimming alongside them seems to be appropriate whilst they navigate their grief.
I don’t know if it will be helpful for you to know this but I was on the verge of killing myself yesterday. I am so deep in hurt and despair and sadness and it feels as though it will never end.
Reading your words on here made me realise that it wouldn’t be easier for my family to be without me. It’s given me a push to keep trying, so thank you x
This all rings true for my catastrophic grief as well. I remember likening it to having had half my body sliced away and badly cauterised and I was bleeding out. It destroyed me. Four years on, I’m starting to be able to think about the future, but it really has taken that long.
Thanks for this. The feeling of despair is just overwhelming at first. The coping of emotions becomes better over time, but the desolation of the loss never leaves you.
Sue
Thank you, I am very grateful for your post Rachel. I can feel bits of it seeping into me in a helpful way after loosing my youngest child, 31 years old, they took their own life nearly seven weeks ago (I could tell you that in days and hours!) I recognise the shitty island and I am recognising those who are swimming beside me. I sometimes welcome others not quite knowing what to do as it matches my inabilities. Someone sent me this quote from Tagore which so match my feelings is helping me not to completely drown when under the water.
“Those who are near me do not know that you are nearer to me than they are
Those who speak to me do not know that my heart is full with your unspoken words
Those who crowd in my path do not know that I am walking alone with you
Those who love me do not know that their love brings you to my heart”
― Rabindranath Tagore
Thank you, Rachel.
Thank you. Thank you through hot, streaming, birthday tears.