I lost everyone by age 24 - Here's what I've learned about grief
12 things I wish I'd known before the waves hit.
A lot of writing on this topic right now. It’s on my mind. Because of our recent loss of our ‘last’ grandma (we still have one grampa and some chosen older aunties/uncles, but have lost all four birth parents) we have a vast empty space that can’t be filled. It doesn’t mean we’re not happy, but it’s a new reality to adjust to, and the loss is big. So much of the last five years has revolved around us travelling to America and being with grandma.
Before that, I’d lost both parents by 24, and both grandparents just a few years later. It gets quiet, sometimes. I’ve done death five times, now. The looking through a house full of memories. The wait. The way it floods you. I think overall, I’ve been incredibly lucky to have people around who shouldered the main burden of the physical organisation - probably because I was so young. Not everyone has that.
It seems grief on a lot of people’s mind, given the feedback on this newsletter recently. On that note, I thought I might try to provide some actual help if you’re standing knee-deep in it. I was young when the worst of it happened to me. If you’ve never experienced grief, it’s coming, unfortunately. It’s usually just a question of when. I hope yours is as kind as possible on you and your family.
You’ll get sick. If you’re of the strong opinion body and mind are separate, you can forget about it. You’re going to get terribly sick, somewhere along the line. When mom was at her worst, I had been given a random gift of a massage session. I’d been struggling with persistent chest infections that year, and I was physically exhausted. The lady giving the massage was of the alternative persuasion and casually offered ‘oh, grief sits in the lungs. You have to deal with the it or you won’t get better.’ At the time, I was very anti this kind of thinking and didn’t believe her, but oh boy. Random A&E trips, and a debilitating throat-and jaw infection later, I’m with her. I remember laying in a friend’s lap weeping from pain. I’m usually a one-paracetamol-on-sufferance kinda gal, but I was popping those huge pink Ibuprofen to no avail. Damn. Sorrow and grief takes a huge toll. Taking care of your body whilst you’re grieving is so, so important, or believe me, the illness you’ll get will knock you flat. It’s like a red light signal from your body going STOP. REST. Take care.
You will have fights with family members. This may be something you’ve heard before, but everybody grieves differently. You have to give a LOT of space to that. You may intensely dislike the way a family member is grieving. It may not be like yours. You may find it ridiculously ostentatious, or you may find them a closed-off, difficult grump. None are exactly wrong, unless they are actively harming you, in which case keep your distance. You may discover previously unheard of chasms in your relation to those people. Don’t put too much on that right now - it’s a bad time to judge any relationship. Give it time to settle.
If there’s money involved, people can and will get weird. If they don’t, you are very lucky. This isn’t news - people smell money and get awkward and even greedy. Attempt as much calm and fairness as is humanly possible. If there is a family member who is always fair and organised, give the task of dividing money up to them - if you can. Don’t assume anything - you don’t always know your immediate family’s money troubles, and people can act out of desperation if they smell a way out. Don’t be surprised if you see strange or even sneaky behaviour. Try to refer to wills, lawyers and an organised person if this is an option for you.
You will get weird about stuff. You know those worn slippers your dad wore, that your brother wants to throw in the bin now he’s gone? Did you have a big fight about that because you had a profound desire to keep them and you now think your brother is a dick for not understanding it and you feel like, in fact, he never cared about dad in the first place? It’s okay. You’re not being weird, and your brother probably isn’t either. What you hold sacred is different. How you feel about objects may be different. What you cling to is different. Don’t be harsh if someone wants to keep something that seems odd. Equally, don’t be surprised if someone doesn’t understand your desire to. Try to offer to sort it yourself if you want to keep something, and politely explain it matters to you. If people around you are mean or lack understanding, or worse, mock you, distance yourself and save what you can. (You can’t keep everything. But going at something fast, as often needs to be done when clearing someone’s house, is tough. If you have an opportunity to do it slow, it may be good to take that option.)
You’ll find out who they organised sibling/family member is almost immediately. This is about grieveing differently, and you may find old irritations getting way worse. Some get organised, anal, want every duck in a row - and some turn chaotic, volatile and angry. Spare a thought for the one who takes on all the organising or diplomacy - it’s a big job. Try to be helpful. If it’s you, ask for help. I know you don’t like it. Give your siblings/relatives tasks they can manage. Try not to resent it. (You won’t manage). That’s okay, too. The emotional one will inevitably get on the organised one’s nerves. Because the organised ones has feelings, too, they just don’t get the same space. The world isn’t fair, death isn’t fair. Nobody will give you the prize for being the ‘best’ at death. You can only take care of your heart, try not to hurt others, get through the necessary stuff that needs doing a little at a time. Death involves a lot of acceptance. It’s not fun.
If you’re alone, it sucks. It’s too big a burden to carry alone. I’ve felt this, and all I can say is, have a passion or a pet to exist for during the worst couple of years. even a cat as a companion helps. A boxing class to keep you saying hi to people, sweating and taking some care if your body. Writing. Making art. If you’ve experienced a double bereavement, or a shocking one, get professional help at all costs, especially if you’re solo. Travel can help, if you have the money, but take care - you’re prone to accidents, forgetfulness, and attracting trouble right now. Keep it simple. Now is not the time to explore the jungle. Nor to tumble headfirst into a huge relationship, business venture or other distractions.
Death is expensive and annoying, especially if the person who died didn’t organise anything. I remember cold fury at the funeral agent taking us through the ‘packages’ and different prices for mom’s service. I still hate it. Putting a price on a person’s life, forcing relatives to choose a ‘cheaper’ option or spend all their money on showing how much they ‘cared’ - it’s all tasteless, gouhlish and unfair. It’s an enormous help if the person who died was old, organised and had set out money for a funeral. Many, many people don’t do this. Many are not old. Many didn’t want or expect to die. Some just unhelpfully landed the burden in relative’s lap through refusing to deal with it. Also, our bureaucratic lives often put up maddening barriers, such as access to accounts, overdue bills in a dead person’s name that won’t be changed because they didn’t authorise you to deal with it - the list goes on. Those are societal shortcomings to how we deal with bereavement, and all I can say is I’m sorry. It will pass. One day, it’ll be done. It’s fucking unfair.
You will think you are perfectly rational in the year after, and you’re actually certifiably nuts. (Yes, you too.) It never feels like madness when you’re mad. You feel like you’re actually doing pretty well, considering, and that might also be true. Several things can be true at the same time. Take it easy the first year, especially the first few months. You are vulnerable, more than you think, and support around you when it comes to big decisions is wise. The problem is, death often comes with earth-shaking change whether it’s a good idea or not. If there is someting you don’t have to change, like a place to live, a relationship, big money decisions - maybe wait just a little while. You will thank yourself later.
The hardest balance to strike is between giving yourself grace because this time in life sucks so bad, and not tipping over the edge of getting addicted/alienating everybody/spending all your money/falling into a black hole of sad. If you have dependents, this is crucial. No, it’s not fair, but you may not let your kids down because you are sad. This impacts them too, and likely they are grieving too. You have to dig in and find a crushingly unfair amount of superhuman strength. Of course that also means you’re allowed to ask for help, and allowed to need a day to just cry. Try to get that, if you can. You’ll be a better carer if you do. If you’re alone, it’s easier to grieve, but also more dangerous, as nobody will stop you from engaging in self-harm of one kind or another.
Everyone didn’t suddenly turn into an asshole, but they may struggle to support you. I’ve had so much death, and even I don’t know what to say. Especially if it’s extra awful. It takes some real zen to be able to be comfortable around raw pain, and many can’t manage. It can be truly hard to discover the lack of support from people you expected to help - but if you stay open, you will also find extraordinary support in unexpected places. There are incredible people out there. Here’s a little thing: Consider that you may also be acting like an asshole. That’s okay, for a bit - but try to not push people away. You’re hurting, but don’t hurt others. Setting boundaries is 100% okay, you don’t have to people please right now- but pain isn’t an excuse to inflict it on others.
Now may not be the time to hold firm to non-religious principles. By that, I don’t necessarily mean seeking out a faith community. Seek any healthy community, and if you feel like your loved one is still somehow close, go with it. Talk to them. We know nothing, really. You don’t have to convert to Catholicism. Just - like - if the infinite floods you right now, accept our tiny role in the universe and let yourself feel what you’re feeling. Related to this, you’re allowed to appropriate traditions. (Respectfully, of course.) I found Western grieving woefully lacking - go to a funeral, wear black, then continue as normal? What, when my world just came apart? You can make beautiful traditions of your own. You are obliged to no one when it comes to your own process. You can light candles, make a float, attend a parade - personally, I found Dia De Los Muertos to be helpful. The colours, love and offers of what your loved one used to like eating and doing seemed appropriate to me. Charles and I keep little altars with memorabilia in the house, and Viola and I held a 7-day candlelit memorial in our house, for grandma.
Vultures circle when you’re vulnerable. Watch your back. I cannot stress this enough. Predators can smell prey. Especially if you inherited a house or money, or if you’re low and easily attracted to the notion of a saviour. A saviour will appear. They are not. Steer well clear.
— Kat
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