On finding our own personal journey into and through grief
Observing the grief of a friend has reminded me that processing the loss of the people we love most is a deeply personal experience, but that there's strength in walking alone, too
I’d been planning to write about the intersection of the rise of trad wives and the use of the word “demure” on social media at the moment, but instead I’m thinking a lot about grief.
A friend I’m very close to has recently lost a parent. (I’m not going to write about the specifics of who has died here, but instead will refer to them here as “they”, and the person they have lost as “the parent.”) Spending time with them as they grieve their parent has been a humbling experience. I’ve watched so many emotions moving through them, and observing the power of their grief took me back to the way I felt after my sister died. Grief is the most humanising experience, when all artifice and bravado is stripped away, and the “front” we usually present to the world is suddenly all gone. Grief, at it’s most raw, and when it is most active, most powerful, removes that front, whether we like it or not. This is terrifying, since we’re most vulnerable, but it’s also incredibly beautiful, because in this state we’re most human, too.
So while I thought I’d be writing about butter churns, the Mormon church and why disruptive, messy female behaviour matters more than ever, I’ve decided that trad wives can wait until next week. Instead I want to share with you here something I’ve learned about the very personal, specific nature of grieving, and why and how we must find out own way through it.