The Ebbs and Flows of Early Grief: When Reality Doesn't Match Expectations

Meandering through the week, I have felt, well, less than I expected.

I thought grief meant I would be sobbing most of my waking hours, but this just was not the case.

Whilst in hospital I think I was existing on adrenaline – I was very stoic, matter of fact, making notes and relaying them to the people who needed to know. I cried in short bursts lasting a minute or so – normally triggered by seeing someone I cared about getting upset. I didn't stop myself from crying, but what I experienced seemed just temporary mini releases leading to calm.

As Mum was dying I felt confusion, concern and again: calm. I had my head resting on her hospital bed feeling really peaceful, dotted with anxiety. I would look at my brother and wonder if he was thinking what I was thinking: how long will this take? Is she ok? Is she dead now?

Since coming home – Easter holidays has mostly meant normal mum life has resumed. When possible, my ex, friends, and amazing childminders have been with the children while I have been clearing out the house, sorting through (and trying to make sense of) paperwork, talking to my brother, talking to solicitors, answering questions about Grandmarina dying from my innocent and curious daughters, informing friends and starting to inform businesses, charities, banks, etc.

It is all a total whirlwind and I am not unaware that this first stage will turn into a second and third stage of grief which may not be so 'easy' on me.

So for me, early grief has meant huge adrenaline rushes, pangs of deep upset, anxious moments balanced with strength, acceptance, empowerment and stoicism.

What I'm Learning About Grief That No One Tells You

Grief doesn't follow a script. The five stages we've all heard about? They're not a linear path.

Although I don't feel any denial, I do feel numb.

I have certainly felt anger but so far no bargaining or depression.

I really do feel the fifth stage: acceptance – and maybe that's because I found Mum and was with her, seeing the path to death, over the day and a half that it took.

But one thing that is crystal clear is that there's no "right way" to grieve, and comparing your journey to others is unhelpful at best.

The practical tasks become a shield

All the paperwork, phone calls, and sorting through possessions – I imagine these tasks that seem so clinical are actually serving as a buffer between me and the raw emotions.

But is that a bad thing? Perhaps it's exactly what we need at first.

Your body keeps score

Even when I feel emotionally stable, my body reminds me I'm grieving. Exhaustion hits without warning. I forget basic things. I know my metaphorical cup is full. And I'm learning to respect these physical signals rather than push through them.

A Challenge to My Readers

If you've experienced loss, what surprised you most about your grief journey? Was there a moment when grief taught you something unexpected about yourself?

For those who haven't yet faced significant loss, I invite you to reach out to someone who has. Not to "cheer them up" or "fix" anything, but simply to be present. Ask them what they want or need. The greatest gift you can offer someone in grief is your willingness to sit with them in their discomfort without trying to make it better.

Until next week – take what you need, leave what you don't, and remember that however you're handling your challenges today is exactly as it should be.