The strangeness of grief ...
I've always been very good at compartmentalising ... Papa Koala's technique was to put the bad stuff/grief/sorrow/frustration/anger onto a "floppy disk" and put it away ... That's what I've done my whole life. Martyn's always been unimpressed with the technique - he calls it denial and says I don't want to deal with the issues. It's my own coping mechanism and it works for me - it has to.
But grief ... grief is such a strange thing because you can bury it deep inside, move on, laugh and be normal for a long time - years even ... and then random things will trigger a reaction. When Papa Koala died, it was like a raw wound. I cried so hard, I threw up to the point I was just dry heaving ... I had a splitting headache which led to even more nausea. I cried constantly ... I couldn't stop. Everything made me cry. I feel really sorry for Dan who had to cope with this blubbering wreck of a human being. In the days after Papa Koala died, every time he turned around, I'd be crying. Sitting at my computer, tears pouring down my face.
I still remember a plaintive post I sent to a random stranger on a dog discussion forum of all places because I saw that she had posted about losing her father. I remember asking her: "Does the pain ever go away? Does time really heal all wounds? because it really doesn't feel like this is going to go away." She said the pain doesn't go away but it becomes more bearable. She told me the truth. Papa Koala's death still hurts and when I allow myself to think about it (which I do very rarely), I still cry and it still hurts and I know that I probably haven't really got over it. It's better because I can actually talk about him/think about him/tell stories about him without breaking down and crying - which for a very long time was what happened.
There are some things though that are so immediate that you can't avoid having it reopen the wound. I found out this week that during the long weekend, a colleague with whom I had worked very closely on a project from last year, had taken his own life. In 2014, one of his beloved daughters had been killed in a car accident. She had been 25 years old at the time of her death. Three years later, I knew that he was still hurting, but none of us around him suspected that he was still struggling and his suicide was a complete and utter shock to so many of us.
For me, I am sad because I knew him and even though we'd had many spirited differences of opinion, he was a kind man and a gentle soul. We'd shared an office wall for over a year and he heard my loud, obnoxious voice through that time without ever uttering a complaint. He leaves behind a grieving wife, daughter, grandchildren, friends and colleagues - all of whom are confused and shocked.
I'm also stunned and unable to process the fact that he chose to leave. I know that such decisions are often not rational .. that the person in question convinces himself that his family is better off without him ... the grief and pain is too much to bear. I know that he did not do this to hurt his family and friends, but the fact remains that I know that his family will never recover from this. I think about how hard my own father fought to stay alive, how desperately he put his weak, dying body through radiotherapy and chemotherapy ... that even when the doctors told him that there were no more possible treatments, he clung onto hope with the desperation of a hopeful child. My heart still hurts, my throat still tightens, my eyes still sting and I still miss him desperately and it hurts me to think that my colleague's remaining daughter has lost a father in such circumstances.
Occasionally, not every often, I see Papa Koala in my dreams. I have no real belief in the afterlife so I don't try to pretend that the dreams are anything other than my subconscious remembering him and missing him. My colleague's tragic death very much rips open the "floppy disk" and lets the grief pour out again ...
But grief ... grief is such a strange thing because you can bury it deep inside, move on, laugh and be normal for a long time - years even ... and then random things will trigger a reaction. When Papa Koala died, it was like a raw wound. I cried so hard, I threw up to the point I was just dry heaving ... I had a splitting headache which led to even more nausea. I cried constantly ... I couldn't stop. Everything made me cry. I feel really sorry for Dan who had to cope with this blubbering wreck of a human being. In the days after Papa Koala died, every time he turned around, I'd be crying. Sitting at my computer, tears pouring down my face.
I still remember a plaintive post I sent to a random stranger on a dog discussion forum of all places because I saw that she had posted about losing her father. I remember asking her: "Does the pain ever go away? Does time really heal all wounds? because it really doesn't feel like this is going to go away." She said the pain doesn't go away but it becomes more bearable. She told me the truth. Papa Koala's death still hurts and when I allow myself to think about it (which I do very rarely), I still cry and it still hurts and I know that I probably haven't really got over it. It's better because I can actually talk about him/think about him/tell stories about him without breaking down and crying - which for a very long time was what happened.
There are some things though that are so immediate that you can't avoid having it reopen the wound. I found out this week that during the long weekend, a colleague with whom I had worked very closely on a project from last year, had taken his own life. In 2014, one of his beloved daughters had been killed in a car accident. She had been 25 years old at the time of her death. Three years later, I knew that he was still hurting, but none of us around him suspected that he was still struggling and his suicide was a complete and utter shock to so many of us.
For me, I am sad because I knew him and even though we'd had many spirited differences of opinion, he was a kind man and a gentle soul. We'd shared an office wall for over a year and he heard my loud, obnoxious voice through that time without ever uttering a complaint. He leaves behind a grieving wife, daughter, grandchildren, friends and colleagues - all of whom are confused and shocked.
I'm also stunned and unable to process the fact that he chose to leave. I know that such decisions are often not rational .. that the person in question convinces himself that his family is better off without him ... the grief and pain is too much to bear. I know that he did not do this to hurt his family and friends, but the fact remains that I know that his family will never recover from this. I think about how hard my own father fought to stay alive, how desperately he put his weak, dying body through radiotherapy and chemotherapy ... that even when the doctors told him that there were no more possible treatments, he clung onto hope with the desperation of a hopeful child. My heart still hurts, my throat still tightens, my eyes still sting and I still miss him desperately and it hurts me to think that my colleague's remaining daughter has lost a father in such circumstances.
Occasionally, not every often, I see Papa Koala in my dreams. I have no real belief in the afterlife so I don't try to pretend that the dreams are anything other than my subconscious remembering him and missing him. My colleague's tragic death very much rips open the "floppy disk" and lets the grief pour out again ...