Working in the charity sector over the years I have met so many amazing people, from the relatives of loved ones with Alzheimer’s, to survivors of serious accidents - and the families of those who did not survive.
Dealing with grief at work is very different to dealing with
it in your personal life – and I mean both for the bereaved, and for the
professional. In the charity sector,
gifts ‘in memory’ of a loved one are hugely important; they allow the bereaved
to celebrate a life passed, and also to support a cause close to their heart in
that process. It could be anything from Air ambulances to Zoos – there’s
usually a relevance to the deceased.
Supporting a charity gives the family the opportunity to
share their memories, thoughts and wishes, often through dedicated ‘in memory’
pages on a website. This little bit of immortality can mean a lot to a family
and help them process their grief.
I lost my father when I was 13 years old. I was very young; I think you could probably equate it to 10 or 11, given the maturity
of young people today. My brother’s reaction was to protect me, initially,
and then – as my mother disappeared into her grief – to leave home. My
reaction? I can’t accurately recall, but I think depression was certainly a big
part of it.
Although my father died more than 50 years ago, I still
grieve. On the train home from London the other day, I talked to him – told him
all about my day (silently, I didn’t need extra space on the train). I clearly
saw him in my mind’s eye, sitting in the empty seat opposite me, and he reacted
(in my imagination) how I remembered he would have done.
I didn’t go to my father’s funeral – to the church or the burial. Maybe it would have helped me to have gone, I don’t know, but now at any funeral (even someone I don't really know) I am a useless emotional heap. That may be a legacy of unresolved grief, but it’s often embarrassing. Yes, I have grown around my grief – I don’t wear it daily, but it is easy for me to slip into sadness when I think of all the years I never had with my father, how he never knew me as an adult, or heard me sing (though he may well have hated my music choices), or met his grandchildren. But then again, I never saw him grow old, either.
Today someone said to me that grief is ‘love with nowhere to
go’. I found that very moving, but also hope that as we grow around grief, our
love is not lost, but finds new avenues, and stays true for those we have loved
and lost.
Useful links:
- Cruse Bereavement Support
- Ruth Strauss Foundation - pre-bereavement support for when a family member has a terminal illness
- Winston's Wish - post-bereavement support for children
- MuchLoved - an online in memory site
