Almost two months ago Sammy, my cousin and also one of my best friends, died. I mentioned it in two of my weekly Substack essays, went to her funeral and then stopped talking about it.
We’ve published articles on the website (womanalive.co.uk) by women who have navigated or are navigating grief long after their loved one has died, and everyone experiences this differently. However, I do feel as though there’s an invisible time limit put on how long afterwards we are expected to express it publicly.
Years ago, when my daughter died after birth, there was a flurry of flowers, cards and an outpouring of love that was much needed. But months later, though still hurting, that stream appeared to have stopped, and it made feel as though I, too, had to stop mourning. And so, I did. But I think it was too early for me, and I experienced a lot of delayed trauma as a result.
Now the truth is, life does go on, and it is fair to assume that while people do care, they also have their own things going on and may well miss those specific dates which are so important – and occasionally triggering – to us.
The year my daughter would have been seven, I felt the Lord lead me to visit the tiny children’s memorial garden where we had scattered her ashes. I hadn’t been back since the funeral service and I was the only one there on a beautiful sunny day. As I sat among the plants and flowers, I felt a sense of peace that my mourning was complete. It was a really healing moment for me which came with another layer of meaning once I realised that, biblically, seven is the number that represents completion.
Around 800 people attended my cousin Sammy’s funeral and grieving her looks different for all of us. I don’t know when or if we will ever feel as though there has been a ‘completion’ of grief, where we still miss her but the immediate sense of mourning has gone, but September in the UK is representative of a new season and is a reminder to me that everything is made beautiful in its time. Maybe that includes grief, because our God can turn our mourning into dancing.
Love and blessings,
Doll
Editor + Creative Director
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