I just wasn't ready.

Like clockwork, it is suddenly August. 2020 you came in so hard, with no apologies forcing me to feel in ways I could never have comprehended. When I said I was ready to fully trust the unfolding of my life and heal parts of my past, when I said I welcomed you with open arms, I had no idea what was to come.. but no part of me anticipated this.

I didn’t anticipate being left to navigate the world without my father, I didn’t anticipate feeling pain so deep, so unfathomably strong, that I question my ability to ever stand again. I never anticipated having to process and find my way through the messy aftermath of losing somebody so dear, to suicide. I wasn’t ready to grieve the sudden loss of my dad. I wasn’t prepared to write my father’s eulogy and stand at his funeral speaking about the incredible human being he was, all of the things he had taught me throughout my 21 years, all of the lives he had touched and saved being in the armed forces and fire service, and all of the magic moments we had shared together in this lifetime. I wasn’t ready to watch my brother carry our dad’s casket down the aisle, or to see my family emotionally broken into fragments trying to stay afloat in the viscous sea of suicide bereavement. I wasn’t prepared to find myself in a room of over 500 grief-stricken service men and women mourning the loss of one of their most loved and respected brothers. I JUST WASN’T READY.

I wasn’t ready to grieve this.

But the universe gave me this path anyway. And I’m learning each new day to navigate the intensity of its flow. Some days I find myself flowing with the current, just about managing to stay afloat, whilst others I’m drowning and just don’t know how to survive the tsunami-strength waves that are grief. There’s brief moments where the ocean becomes calm. But still, the dull ache follows me, whispering at me to steady myself before the next wave hits.

It’s hard to have trust in the unfolding of life when it can be so devastatingly cruel, it’s difficult to find the light in the dark corners of the room when it feels like loss has carved out every inch of light your soul has ever carried. But somewhere, somewhere, deep beneath all of that, underneath the layers of embedded grief, guilt, sadness and heartache, there’s a little girl who’s reaching for the light. I can feel her pull. I can see the fear and pain in her teary eyes, but I can also see beyond that, into the depths of her soul. Into her big heart surrounded by barbed wire, that only ever wants to help others heal and ease the weight of their suffering. A little girl who’s struggling to have faith, but giving every ounce of trust she has anyway. A little girl who, in the expanse of her trauma and grief, is creating space for her heart to feel every emotion she needs to feel in order to heal. She’s frightened at what her life has taken from her, but holds unwavering courage and faith in knowing that one day, one day, though she will never be the same, her heart will heal and she will be whole again.

I wasn’t ready for any of this, but in this, I trust. I surrender to needing to understand and know why.

I trust that one day, I can use my experiences, my pain, loss and struggle to help others. I trust that this was the path I was meant to walk. To be a guiding light, a beacon, shepherding lost souls out of the dark to re-find strength in their vulnerability, power in authenticity, and healing in honesty.

Mental illness is real. Suicide is real. The aftermath of suicide is real.

This post is raw, authentic and messy. An honest reflection and open invitation to be gentle with yourself whatever your past or present experiences. Whether you’re grieving the loss of someone to suicide, grieving the loss of a relationship, friendship, pet or simply a past version of yourself - it’s ok. However you’re feeling is ok.

Grief, I've learned, is really just love. It's all the love you want to give but cannot. All of that unspent love gathers up in the corners of your eyes, the lump in your throat, and that hollow part of your chest. Grief is just love with no place to go.