I’ve experienced grief many times in my life.

When I was 4 years old, I learnt what grief was after my Dad lost his brother. I couldn’t understand it of course, but I have vivid memories of my Dad howling on the sofa for many nights. All I could do was gingerly pat his arm, unsure of what was going on or what to do.

When I was 11, I realised that my secondary school peers had very different lives to me. Although every individual has their own problems, family issues and nothing seems as it is to the outside world, their parents were able to walk, work and run around the teachers at my parents evening, whilst I wheeled Dad around in his wheelchair, occasionally receiving a sympathetic smile in our direction. My life up until I was 19 years old became one of sorrow as I watched him slowly lose the ability to walk one step at a time with his diagnosis of MS. On holidays during my teenage years, I silently watched as parents walked around holding hands with their kids and I yearned for the days that I had done that as a child. I didn’t realise it then, and perhaps I’m still going through the process, but I grieved my Dad as I knew him previously, running after me if I’d been naughty, enjoying his hot holidays in Portugal eating pasta by the Marina, walking in at precisely 6pm after a day at work with his smart looking briefcase that contained nothing but a sandwich but which he carried because it made him look cool. I grieved the dream of father/daughter activities because I had never had that opportunity growing up as a teenager and my years were spent in hospitals praying an MS episode would get better.

Years later, grief became a more common emotion, with the loss of grandparents, the breakdown of relationships and of previously close friendships. Now that I’m processing another loss, I’ve realised how grief is often exclusively linked with death, but in fact it’s such a common emotion during many aspects of our lives and through various relationships that sometimes we don’t even realise. The emotions stay the same, the emptiness becomes so deep that it can sometimes feel like your chest is hollow, desperate for something warm and loving to fill it. The unwillingness to accept the situation for what it is, the numbness, the anger, the despair .. if you’ve ever experienced losing someone in some capacity, you must remember.

However, with these incredibly deep and despairing emotions eventually comes a sort of sad peace; a miserable solitude that becomes eventually a little easier to bear. Life, which previously felt like an empty painting by numbers book, starts to get coloured in a little. Not much mind, but some of the shapes show dashes of colour which, when you cannot see the world in anything but black, provides some much needed hope. Arrangements become a little easier to sit through, and the tears happen at certain points rather than an every hour, on the hour pastime.

I don’t know if I ever believe the grieving process is over in life, that feels too complete to me. But I do believe that the minutes and hours of the day start to show glimpses of colour and hope as time continues to move forward, forcing you to move with it. I hope that if you’re grieving anyone or anything, the process will start to feel slightly lighter as the days roll on by. Speak to someone about how you’re feeling, write a diary, listen to podcasts, surround yourself with good friends, read a book.. whatever your preference, do something to make yourself feel better but please, feel the emotions out. Don’t hide them. Let yourself heal day by day, there is light at the end of the tunnel.