I am a grief and trauma therapist, and this is the most challenging and definitely the most personal piece of writing I have produced in years. So here we go.
I have lost significant others in my life and experienced traumatic loss, disenfranchised grief, and prolonged grief. I went through an existential crisis. I had symptoms very similar to PTSD for a number of years. During this time, I dedicated 4 years of my life to a PhD exploring grief and spirituality from a transcultural lens. I dedicated the thesis to my lost loved ones.
Upon graduation, I experienced another existential crisis. But having said all that, I was okay. With every hardship, I scrambled to make meaning from them and expanded my range of perspectives. Meanwhile, I maintained all my relationships, worked, stuck to my fitness regime, did my research, learnt new skills, ran a private practice, published a couple of books, got married and... you know, just went on living. Of course, there were episodes of just existing (as opposed to living). So, I continued to progress professionally, and griefwork became a passion of mine. I am now very comfortable working with grief, existential crises, addressing the unknowns and doubts about life and afterlife across various faith-systems and cultures, etc. Then two months ago, my father passed away suddenly. I dropped everything and flew home for 6 weeks.
Being a grief therapist does not make you immune to grief. Don't get me wrong - the knowledge I have amassed through theory, research, self-care, meditation practice, religious studies and philosophy has helped me IMMENSELY - but they do not take away the vulnerability of humanity. Our fragility is actually quite beautiful in a way. Our hearts break as hard as we love.
And you never really grieve just the ONE loss. Think about it.
When you experience a heartbreaking loss, are you not reminded of all your previous significant losses? My father's recent passing became a gateway to my previous losses. And it was really, really, really hard.
So, in this blogpost, I want to pay homage to all the wonderful souls in my life, who have supported me in so many ways, despite their own personal struggles. To all my beloved family members and chosen family, thank you. I would like to share with you, my dear readers, on how I have been supported.
My support system in Australia:
A dear friend of mine who was going through a complicated childbirth and healing. She delivered on the same day my dad passed away. She texted me every 2-3 days to check in, sharing her news (the good the bad and the ugly), and sending photos of her and her new baby. She would text things like "How are you? I love you and I'm thinking of you. Holding you close."
Another beloved friend who was also going through some loss would text me every few days, "How are you holding up honey?" Also continued to share her struggles honestly which maintained the normalcy of our relationship.
Another new but very close friend would call me during his long drives a couple times a week to ask me what was happening (there was a lot of familial and legal drama that took place back home since my father's passing which caused us all a lot of distress). And on a few occasions, upon "Hello", I would immediately breakdown and sob and this wonderful soul would just listen to me cry for what felt like 'ages'. He also shared his own personal experiences of having gone through similar challenging situations, which I personally found really helpful.
My professional and academic supervisors and my business coaches, all of whom I regard so highly, just put themselves on an even higher pedestal but sharing their own experiences around sexism, discrimination and ostracization within their own families as a result of a death. Their stories helped normalise my experience and helped me set more realistic expectations from difficult parties and the legal system. Their ability to reach their heart and hand out to me despite being in a professional capacity is unheard of.
One of my business coaches said, "It's winter" and asked me what came after winter. I said, "Spring." The premise was that I did not know how to operate my practice properly from afar during such a difficult life event, especially given my profession. His advice was simply that it was winter. He alluded that nothing lasts forever, even pain.
The sages of time have always emphasized the importance of teachers. How lucky am I to have such wise, loving and patient teachers?
Three decade-long beloved colleagues/friends (pretty much family members at this stage) reached out consistently, leaving voice messages and "Thinking of you" messages, pictures of them and funny memes with a caveat that saying, "You don't have to reply." I found this caveat extremely liberating because of the sheer amount of correspondence we received as a grieving family.
It is common to feel emotionally drained and not have capacity to respond. How considerate and freeing! It gave me space to receive without the social obligation to reply immediately. At times I was able to reply briefly, typically with a heart emoji or a one-liner expressing my gratitude for their support.
An awesome friend of mine who was going through a serious of serious medical treatments also somehow managed to extend her support by sending me numerous memes on Instagram that would just set me off in giggles.
I do not know how she operates but I am glad that she operates like that. Nothing like a bit of dark humour for more enlightened perspectives.
Other dear friends, some I do not see often but close to heart, one with very small children and infants, would call or text very regularly (I was often not able to take their calls given time differences) but I definitely appreciated seeing their names in my phone. I know they have so much on their plate - and yet here they are calling me in between errands, calls and screaming kids just to check in week after week after week...
Two very dear girlfriends and my neighbour would take turns as a trio to cat-sit for me and ensure my plants were alive. They continued to share pictures and videos of my cat whenever they could. They would also commune at my apartment as a hangout spot which made me smile. It made me feel somehow connected to them.
One of them very kindly, (without me even asking!), cleaned out my fridge for me so I did not have to return to spoilt food! They also kept my home so clean while I was away all those weeks. One of them also picked me up from the airport on her birthday!
I was scheduled to record a podcast on grief with an organisation a week after my father's passing, and I decided to go ahead with it. The podcast host and organiser were shocked that I did not cancel the engagement and broadcasted it requesting listeners to offer prayers to my father. I was so touched.
Weekly Zoom calls with my meditation group allowed me to receive support on how to deal with grief and difficult people through mental and emotional practices, stemming from a philosophical and spiritual lens. I found that the practices and wisdom they offered helped me go through the waves of emotion without judgment, with clarity, with compassion (to self and others), without rumination, and bounce back to my psychological baseline a lot faster.
Most of my friends provided me with such heartfelt empathy, reflected my feelings, validated them, and just held silence and space for me to sob, vent, go and withdraw.
It was THE MOST tangible feeling of being held without actual physical contact.
Friends and family back home had a different approach to showing support. It was less verbal and more presence oriented.
My husband flew in the same day and stayed for a whole week despite his very demanding role. He hung out with us as a family and continued to study/work. He kept himself regulated, which inadvertently helped regulate the grief in household. His booming laughter and humour were infectious. He was able to lift the heavy clouds of sorrow by just being. He continued to have daily calls with me after he left and made his presence (despite his physical absence) very prominent. He too struggled with some of the injustices we faced as a family, but he never withdrew his support despite his own anger toward our circumstances. I was also mindful not to rely too heavily on him due to his professional pressures and sought support from other avenues as well.
I had gone through a loss away from my sisters before and it was hell for us all, so I knew I had to be home this time around. My sisters and I did everything together. We would train at the gym together, went for runs together, cooked for each other, went for movies and comedy shows together, went shopping together, played SO MANY boardgames, create art together, attended to legal matters together, yelled, sobbed, screamed, and laughed together, cuddled each other, collectively developed a bubble tea addiction as a coping method... we even slept together. I remember having a bad dream one night and woke up sobbing and crawled into my sister's bed. (I totally freaked her out, but thankfully she went straight back to sleep whilst I talked AT her.) Just knowing my siblings were a few steps away meant the world to me.
A beloved aunt came and stayed for a whole week whilst I was still back home. She is not a talker. But she hung around like Casper the Friendly Ghost. She cooked my favourite meals for me, and we went on a few aunty-niece dates. It was really wholesome to just BE with loved ones. Words are less important in some relationships...
My long-distance best friends who happened to be in the country at the time of my father's passing picked me up from the airport, followed me around the different sites (mosque - cemetery - home) - and went on to the airport again that day to pick up my husband and took him to me to attend the wake. All they did was shuttle around with our luggage and essentially was our shadow for 5 hours. I barely said more than 10 sentences to them that day. As they did not share same faith as my family, engaging with prayers was not possible for them. But yet, they were there. Just there. They continued to show up for the next 6 weeks, they would come over with beloved local treats and once again, bubble tea became the care currency. Gone were the days of chocolates and flowers!
A week later, we all recorded a song together at a studio because one of them is a musician. Who knew you could weave such beautifully random memories in the midst of grief?
Friends from neighbouring countries flew in for my father's funeral and his 40-day prayer ritual. One of them actually created work to justify his trip and stayed in a hotel for a couple of nights, because I was unable to put him up at my house - just to see me and my sisters and offer his support. Another just left her shift a couple of hours in and flew straight to my family as soon as she heard the news. She arrived hours before I landed. Other family friends who had flown in flew back the same night. You know the love is almost unconditional when people instantaneously get on a plane to support you.
Long lost cousins showed up and reconnected. These are people I have not interacted with for at least a decade or two. That excitement to get to know each other all over again was indescribable. The main contributing reason to this happening was because they too have had similar losses or struggles when their loved ones had suddenly died. Reconnecting was so powerful. I remember thinking, "I have lost so many family members in the process of losing dad, but look at the genuine relationships I've gained instead..."
Other close family friends would just show up to take us out for a meal. Coming from a culture that is so food oriented, food was a means of support. In the past, aunties would often deliver food to our home so that we did not have to worry about the dailies whilst we were in acute grief. This time around, people were showing up to take us out for tea/coffee/various types of cuisines or inviting us over for elaborate feasts.
Another dear friend offered to drive us to the cemetery to see our parents' gravesite (we do not own a car). He too had lost his father suddenly 3 days after I had (it was such an unnerving coincidence). Our fathers' graves were next to each other. Till today, he would water and trim my father's grave whenever he visits his father's grave. Such acts of love truly transcend words.
A long-lost cousin of mine offered to take me to the airport when I was leaving, and during the ride gave me the warmest 'big-brother' conversation. That conversation left me with so much confidence and peace - it was exactly what I needed before getting on that plane and returning back to Australia.
The cultural variances in terms of love languages and support that I received during grief and mourning were so varied.
There were heartfelt words with empathy, silences of knowing nods and just listening, people simply showing up physically or through texts, engaging me in their lives as per usual, food, memes, offering transportation, pet sitting, household management, invitations, shared experiences, airport trips, legal advice...
The stream of support continues till today. Spontaneous hugs from community members, gym buddies, invitations to light shows, home visits, invitations to catch up over meals and hikes, offers to help me with work and errands... Support has been consistent, warm, patient, spacious, practical... and respectful. Thank you everyone. I love you all.
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