Small Things in Life – Coping with Loss After Losing a Loved One

Small Things in Life.

There’s one thing I’ve always been afraid of. And that’s losing a loved one. I used to think that this fear only existed because I had never experienced losing anyone in a major way before… up till now. It was as if there was another co-existing fear along with this one, which I called “the fear of the unknown fear”.  Now that I know how it truly feels like to lose someone, like the earth being scraped from under one’s brittle feet and darkness curtaining one’s vision with its ruffling drapes, I can safely say that my fear has irrefutably increased on many levels. Yet, I keep telling myself that this feeling, of a seemingly never-ending void and a miserable helplessness, is Temporary. Strength finds its way back to the feeble body and mind one way or the other.

When I was woken up in the middle of the night by the piercing sound of my phone’s ringtone, my hand froze momentarily and all my senses went numb. The very next minute however, I grabbed the phone and instantly scrolled down on the screen to view the latest text message. “She has passed away…” it said.

I did not cry. The news of my grandmother passing away was, at that moment, a relief I daresay. This was probably because somewhere inside I knew that she was finally at peace and felt no more the agony of the cancer that had been devouring her from within for those past painful weeks. I felt no sign of emotion cross my face, so I just lay down on the bed covering my face with the thick blanket and closed my eyes. But sleep had eluded me, so I waited… for something, anything to happen. I waited.

It was when I arrived at her house in the morning that a gush of emptiness blew all over my body, slackening my steps to the door of the house that I myself used to live in when we were kids. In her room I saw her beautiful corpse devoid of her soul, yet still so full of life that it seemed like she’d slowly wake up the way she always would. Soon she would smile her usual gentle smile at everyone around her. But she remained lying there, lifeless and still. After she was taken for the bath, she was brought outside to her favorite area, which was the drawing room where she loved to entertain her guests. Her children and grandchildren would gather around a massive array of mouthwatering food on every major holiday. I felt my eyes burn and my lips tremble but I’d immediately swallow the feeling and after a couple of deep breaths I’d divert myself with small insignificant jobs that needed to be looked at. And then it came. The time for burial. All I could see was my dad entering with his brothers and cousins to carry her. As soon as my dad lifted her, I felt air as cold as ice shunning me from my being and I embraced the first person I could clearly see. That was when I let it out, and cried out loud for what could possibly be the first time in my life.

“Time is the best healer” is very true in its own way, but in this case, time has not been the only healing factor there is. Losing my grandmother has made me realize that there is no time for unhappiness. In a way, it all makes sense now, of why God works the way he does. My grandmother is the first to leave us because, to me, she is the one most worthy of being a role model. Her leaving has made me realize not what is missing, but what I already have and what I have acquired even out of losing someone so precious to me. Her leaving brought together her whole family, strengthening former relationships more than ever. It has reinforced in me the fact that I simply cannot afford to take anything for granted because life is too short, and I need to hold on dearly to what I love. God has blessed me with more blessings than I deserve, and the fact that he is continuing to do so means that somewhere along the line there must’ve been Something that made Him very happy. A supportive family and loving friends make it to the top of the list of blessings. My grandmother always used to say “Everyone has a special quality. Find it.” So there’s that promise to work towards. Finding a special quality which will negate any undesirable quality there might seem to be.

Patience and contentment are therefore, acquired skills that one needs to work towards. The end will come in its own way all by itself. I can never forget my dad’s words which did not grieve her death but celebrated her life; “She had a great life and this was the end. And I think we can all agree on the fact that it was a Happy Ending”.

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