I Can See Things Clearer: Occasions Without Loved Ones.
By Amie McBye (Social Media Volunteer & Grief Cafe Attendee) Occasions can be strange without loved ones. This past Christmas there was a gaping hole where my brother used to be for me and my mum. It wasn’t as bewildering as the previous December when I had to visit the mortuary and register his death whilst people were Christmas shopping. I felt like I had come from another planet and, at that time, could not relate to anything in the world. Christmas is presented as a time with loved ones, but it is now also a reminder that my sisters, dad, and now brother are no longer here. Occasions look different now. This February, I celebrated my birthday with a trip to Iceland with friend. I’d always wanted to go and thought there was no time like the present. Due to adverse weather in Iceland that week, a couple of our planned tours did not go ahead and my friend was really upset by this. But what was so interesting for me was that I didn’t feel the same – I didn’t even feel that disappointed to be honest. A little while ago, I was talking with a wonderful friend of my mine (who I’d met at my first Grief Cafe) about how things can look a lot clearer after loss. You see people, experiences, pain, joy – everything – differently, like the focus on a camera or the lens during an eye test at an opticians. You thought things were clear until you get shown a clearer view that you never knew existed. Life can change in an instant, and things that once may have been annoying or stressful do not have the same impact anymore. This may not be understandable to those who have not gone through such life changing events. My previous birthday was four days after my brother’s funeral and it was so strange and surreal. Needless to say, I was not feeling happiness then. I didn’t really feel anything. But equally, now, any joy is magnified. How you feel is how you feel, you just have to go with it. For example, earlier this year I cried watching Madison Keys winning the Australian Open women’s singles title for the first time. People had been saying for years that she had the talent to do so but people had doubted her. Her joy at almost 30 and having got there after the struggles, doubt, hard work and ups and downs was so beautiful. I also cried because the person I wanted to share that moment with was my brother; my ally and fellow big sports fan. In that moment I really missed him and felt real pain. In Iceland, however, I felt so much joy. I had an unbelievable in-water massage at The Blue Lagoon, got caught in a hailstorm while soaking in outdoor thermal springs, and enjoyed thoughtful surprises from my partner, including a birthday playlist and gig tickets. My birthday was filled with kindness—from champagne at breakfast to a surprise wrapped pastry in a café, VIP tickets from a friend to the LAVA Show, a free cocktail, a stunning dinner at Fish Market with a special dessert and Polaroid keepsake, and a kind birthday message with Icelandic chocolates from the staff at the hotel. I felt such good will and positivity from the people of Iceland. And all that in 3 nights – I was so far from disappointed. I actually felt internally very happy. Returning home, I cheered in the street as my team Liverpool FC scored their 3rd and 4th goal in the League Cup semi final. Another joyful moment for my birthday week. Another final without my brother. He would have been thrilled. I am grateful to be here seeing things so very clearly. I couldn’t ask for any more than that. So, birthdays, Christmas, occasions – there are no rules. ‘You don’t have to do nothing’ but you don’t have to do anything either. Related articles: Experiencing occasions without loved ones – the Guardian A change in perspective after loss – The BBC
Me Without You
By Amie McBye (Social Media Volunteer & Grief Cafe Attendee) “Sometimes I still find myself in shock, because grief is like waves. Sometimes I’m like, I’m okay, I can function, I can take my kids to school, I feel like I can be involved in my life. And then some days, I’m like, woah, he is never coming back.” Shannon Abloh (Virgil Abloh Foundation) talking to Vogue Australia in 2023 about her late husband, the influential fashion designer Virgil Abloh I know what she means. A therapist told me I was in denial about losing my brother, but respectfully, I know she was wrong. She didn’t understand – I was simply in shock. It was sudden, unexpected and too much to take in. How could it be true? When I was born, a small, three-month-premature baby, my brother was 13 years old and already established as a big lover of Liverpool Football Club, sports, and Run-DMC. He was always there, even when we argued, and he drove me mad. He was like a protective shield; always walking me to the train station after I would visit. Always walking on the inside, he insisted, closer to the road just in case, which made me laugh. He was always my big brother and I was always his little sister. A world where he is not around is a strange place and in some ways, does not make sense. I don’t know if it ever will, at least not in the same way. There is an empty space in my life where he used to be. It’s like the narrative of how life is supposed to be has malfunctioned. Not quite right. There is a particular kind of isolation that comes from losing someone and I don’t think that I have ever felt as alone as I did in that moment that I found out he was gone. The Grief Cafe came along for me at the right moment and I found out about it by accident, from the East of Eden email newsletter (I do Pilates there). The Pilates was the only time I had for myself amongst death admin and trying to make sense of how things were now. But at a time when I felt alone, isolated and a bit of a mess, I felt grateful to have gone alone to a Grief Cafe. Even though I didn’t know what to expect and was nervous, once there I felt like I was speaking a language that people understood. It was a relief. I mean, there is not even a pressure to talk at all. Generally day to day, I felt like an alien and very vulnerable all the time, but it was different there. It wasn’t about finding answers, but having a space to be where I was. Everyone there has lost someone (or people), they were always kind to me and listened every time that I have been to one. The thing is, the people that know you are used to how you are ordinarily. But losing someone can shake your foundations and change you and people can’t always cope with you not being as you were. It’s what they know and how they are used to you. Change is hard and scary, especially when your life fells like it’s not as you know it anymore. The world can go from technicolour to grey in a blink of an eye. Sometimes often multiple times during one day. It’s hard to explain this, so I found it so heartening to not have to. Having been to a few sessions now, I know that it is okay to be exactly how I am when I go to a Grief Cafe. Plus I always feel better when I go to one. And that helps. A link to Shannon Abloh Vogue Australia interview quoted: https://www.vogue.com.au/celebrity/interviews/shannon-abloh-virgil/news-story/eac4315732af468be75cbe4628f14fd6