one year on: an imperfect story of grief

This time last year, I was queuing in Nino Aquino Airport preparing to leave Manila after spending two weeks saying goodbye to my father.

I’d known he was sick for some time, but late November last year I got the call from my family that it wasn’t looking good, and I had to make a decision.

Being around 8 hours closer in Dubai than they were in the UK, I felt pretty confident in my decision to fly over, thinking the probability of me missing him was quite low.

I was right. He hung on almost two weeks.

Now this isn’t going to be a sob story or a poem or a detailed account of every emotion I felt over that fortnight and the year since. If you know me, you’ll know that isn’t my style.

Rather, here’s a few pearls of wisdom that I took from an experience no 23-year-old should have to endure:

1. Don’t take anything for granted. Standard, I know, but – for real. The good times are good because you’re there and you’re living them. They’ll end soon. Appreciate them.

2. Grieving is hard. Especially if you don’t know how to (spoiler: no one does). If you don’t feel it there and then, that’s fine. It’ll come. You probably won’t be prepared for when it does either, so don’t worry if you have a 30-minute cry after you over-do your toast. You deal with it in your own way. I wore a black dress to my dad’s (Filipino) funeral because I had to pay my respects the way I know how, even though everyone else wore jeans and sandals. You still have to do your own thing. I also honoured him by cracking open a cold one (which most brits would find offensive). He would’ve loved it, so who cares?

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3. Look after your family. I personally dealt with it “well” – no tears, no drama, c’est la vie and all that. Those around you might not be the same. If you’re fine (for now) then look after your family. They’re feeling loss harder than you right now, especially if it’s their spouse/sibling/child/parent. Be there. The converse is also true – if you’re taking it harder than everyone, don’t be afraid to ask for help. It’s what family is for.

4. Remember everything well. There’s no point dwelling on the past. It’s a time to celebrate someone’s life, not point out their shortcomings. Who cares if they were a drunk or a grinch or had 28 unpaid parking tickets? They were and they are and they will be. Love them for it. My relationship with my father was far from straightforward so, for me, this was the hardest pill to swallow, but by far the most important.

5. Say what you want to say while you still can. Boy, this one hurts. Good or bad or somewhere in between, just as they say you only regret what you haven’t done, you’ll definitely regret what you haven’t said. Say it while you still have the chance. Considering this, pick your timing. Don’t pick someone’s last 5 minutes to tell them off. It won’t make anyone feel better. What I mean is tell those you love them that you do and make sure your hatchets are buried while you’ve still a shovel to bury them with. Closure doesn’t come as easily without this.

The take-away here is that it’s a really shitty thing to happen and there’s no right way to deal with it. Drink, write, cry, bottle it up, deny it – whichever way you deal with it, it’ll be your way and that’s fine*. Just try not to do it alone.

No one can prepare you for how weird and sad and life changing it can be, even if it’s someone you don’t see all the time or aren’t super close with. Do the best you can with what you’ve got. Most importantly, give yourself a break.

There’ll never been a perfect time or place or way to grieve. Trust yourself and that time will heal you, even if it doesn’t feel like it at the time.

*I don’t personally recommend bottling it up or denying it. Doesn’t get you far long-term. There’s nothing wrong with a bottle of wine and a cry over a blog post, though.