Loss and Other People

If you’re reading this, then you know that the loss of a parent is catastrophic. The total and absolute emotional trauma is violent, like opening up your head and your heart to a tornado; nothing is left as it was. 

The people around, your friends, your colleagues or maybe your school mates; they express sympathy in different ways and to different degrees. When my dad passed away, I was 15 – and I remember appreciating every kind word, being surprised and a bit embarrassed at the level of attention I was getting. I even recall wanting it to end. Until it did. 

Whilst I struggled with that attention, I wasn’t prepared for everyone to move on so quickly. I was even a bit bewildered by it. Last week these people were in floods of tears, telling me stories about my dad, in pain at the cruelty of a life cut short. Now, the same people are asking me if I’m still okay to bring stuff to that party next week, because if not, they need to find someone else. I couldn’t believe that I was expected to get over it all so quickly. 

After a while, I realised a harsh reality; it wasn’t actually their problem, it was mine. 

All our family friends, my schoolmates, my mum’s colleagues, their pain was utterly genuine. When they hugged us and sympathised, they truly could not believe that my dad was gone. But the whole he left in their life was considerably smaller than that which he left in ours, so they moved on quicker. In fact, had they still been hugging and weeping 2 months later, we should probably have been a bit worried!

There’s a subtle difference between sympathy and empathy. Those who empathise have often suffered loss themselves or are just naturally a bit more sensitive. They tend to continue to be thoughtful long after some have almost forgotten your bereavement. These are the people who will message you on anniversaries, or check in at random times just to see if you’re okay. 

Those who sympathise are still genuine friends, they just tend to forget your grief sometimes. ‘Life goes on’ was the most infuriating phrase for me when I lost my dad, mainly because it was true and I didn’t want to face up to it. But the fact is, we need a world to go back to when we’re ready to make that step and start our lives again; and we need both the sympathisers and the empathisers to help us get back there.