Processing Guilt

Of all the emotions I felt after my father passed away, guilt wasn't something I expected, or was ready for.

On reflection, I suppose that depending on the circumstances, it's actually pretty common for anyone who has lost someone close. But at age 15, in the direct aftermath, all I knew was pain; defining it or categorising it as an emotion wasn't something I had the means to process.

But just days after we lost my dad, I was already feeling like I couldn't leave my mum - and whenever I did, it felt like a terrible betrayal. I think that much of this came from seeing my parents make a really strong team. They argued, of course; every couple does. But they were a unit, they were the foundation of our family and what one of them lacked, the other made up. Now half of that foundation had been suddenly torn away and the shock of seeing my mum look vulnerable brought out a lot of new emotions in me.

We get used to thinking of our parents as bullet proof. If we’re lucky, they are our protectors, our saviours, our reference points and our knowledge providers - I was lucky, my parents were all of those things. So when my dad died, it was like being plunged, blindfolded, into ice water. I was completely disorientated because I hadn’t thought it possible that this could happen. Then, after the funeral, I was forced to rejoin the world. And when I came up for air, I found my mum was in pieces. Almost worse than she had been straight after his passing.

I think this is where my guilt came from. My mum was (and is) a ferociously strong woman but all of a sudden, she was severely weakened, dazed and in shock. The one person who she would always lean on whenever she was off her game wasn't there anymore. So when I felt pain, I also wondered how I could be so selfish; okay, I had lost my dad, but my mum had lost the other half of herself.

Leaving her, even to go to school felt like I was doing something fundamentally wrong. Sometimes, she would have to drive me to the gates and reassure me that she would be okay. It still didn’t feel right. I would spend the entire day fighting a desperate pull towards home. 

We’ve spoken about it in the years since and realised that we were both feeling the same way. Mum would tell herself, ‘Pull yourself together - stop crying and be there for the kids.’ Not knowing that that was the last thing we needed. Including each other in our grief was actually helpful and cathartic. 

I didn’t recognise it at the time but I think the guilt is more complex that just feeling like you’re not being there for someone who is suffering. I think it’s a natural defence mechanism that is telling you to stay close to your people after a trauma. But now I can see that despite how much we needed to be together, to talk, remember, or just break down; we also needed to learn to be alone. We both needed space to process our individual grief - and feeling that guilt played its part. 

Our family dynamic was in pieces and, at the time, seemingly beyond repair. It wasn’t. It could never be the same again. But taking time apart, time together and all the emotions that brings was vital to determine what shape the new dynamic would be.