What They Don’t Tell You About Grief

Please keep in mind that this might not be the most…organized and sensical post. My brain’s a bit muddled, and I’m processing recent events as I write this. 

While we were opening presents on Christmas day, we reached the 24 hour anniversary of my Nana’s death. 24 hours. 

How was that even possible?

As I’m writing this, it’s been four days since her death. Five days since we got the dreaded phone call, telling us that she had been rushed to the hospital. 

I’ve lived my whole life in fear of recieving a phone call like that. For the past few years, everytime my mom’s phone rang, I would worry that someone would be on the other end saying that some horrible event had occurred. 

And five days ago, that fear came true.

It’s only been a few days, but it feels like an eternity since all that happened; since my dad assured me that everything would be fine, since I saw my mom cry in a way I’ve never seen, since I promised the Lord that if He spared my Nana that I would spend more time with her, since my dad started showing signs of worry.

I’ve experienced grief before, but never like this. I’ve never known the excruciating pain of losing someone close to you.

I’ve grown up reading books with protagonists who are grieving. I’ve held my friend’s hands while they lost various loved ones. I’ve even been to a funeral or two. But none of those prepared me for this.

I always thought grief felt like sadness. But now I know that it feels much more like boredom, like emptiness, like…grief. The word grief describes the feeling far better than any other words ever could.

In books, grief always leads characters onto magical journeys. It always has a certain…whimsy to it. But, friends, grief isn’t whimsical. It isn’t fun. It isn’t dramatic. 

Grief sucks.

My Nana was a huge fan of my blog when she was alive. She would always read my newest posts and tell me how much she liked them. She….I keep thinking that she’s gonna read this post, and that…that’s really hard.

I’m trying to believe that God is good, but it’s so hard. This whole thing hurts.

I miss you, Nana.