Ways to cope when life deals you a heavy blow

One of my worst fears has just been realised. Just over three weeks ago, my father passed away. I pause just after typing that. It still feels so surreal, as though it were a dream or someone else’s story, not mine. The reality of it is still sinking in despite the ache that I feel in my broken heart. I’ve carried the fear of losing a loved one for a while now because, for one, it is devastating especially when it’s someone that close to you. I come from a close-knit family and now my family feels incomplete. There is a gap that daddy left that no one else can ever fill. Secondly, I have been here before. Ten years ago, I lost a daughter named Ruthe. The day she died, a part of me died with her. I gradually learnt to live again but I have lived in fear of going through that experience again ever since.

I noticed that since then, I wanted to hold on to my loves and never let go. I became more diligent about collecting memories, taking photos every chance I got. I could not part ways with a loved one before I properly documented the experience. I also tried to make sure that I didn’t leave things unsaid or undone just in case I did not get another opportunity. I remember certain moments vividly because I was intentional about being present and then filing away the experience in my memory bank so I could relive them again and again. On a subconscious level, I knew this memory bank would become a treasure trove when the time inevitably came that I didn’t have my loves with me anymore. It’s only now as I write this that I recognise what it was that I was doing.

One such time of memory collecting was four months ago at a cousin’s wedding. A wedding song was sung that my father requested. I saw him walk to the DJ to make the request and he made sure that it was slotted into the programme. When it was sung, he seemed to delight in it so much. I was seated at a table behind him and I watched him, his side profile, as he looked at the lead singer and sang along. He clearly didn’t know most of the words but he sang along nonetheless. He had this expression of pure joy on his face and his joy brought me joy. Daddy sometimes exhibited curiosity and joy that was pure and almost child-like and I loved it. So I filed this memory away like so many others in anticipation of the day when my fear might be realised and I couldn’t watch him or his joy anymore.

Yet somehow, through this loss, I no longer experience that fear as I did before. It somehow seems to have lost its power over me. Perhaps it’s a classic case where the anticipation of something happening is far worse than the actual thing itself. Perhaps it’s an acceptance of the inevitability of death and loss that I did not have before. Perhaps it’s the peace of God that I am experiencing. Perhaps it’s all of these things or maybe it’s something else, a reason I am yet to grasp. All I know is that I seem to be coping better than I ever imagined I would. I am heartbroken and devastated yet I also feel peace and hope. I want to share some of the things I am finding helpful in dealing with this loss.

My Faith

I believe in Jesus Christ. I believe that the Bible is God’s Word. According to that Word, Jesus holds daddy’s spirit just like He holds my daughter’s spirit. He counted out all of their days on this earth and when their days were done, He called them home to Himself. I believe they sleep now but I have the expectant hope that when the time comes, they shall be woken to live out in eternity with God. I believe that I will be called home someday as well. I was put on earth for a purpose and when it’s fulfilled I will also rest until I am woken or resurrected to live out forever with God and my loves. This belief comforts and strengthens me.

When I first wake up and the realisation hits me all over again that daddy’s gone, or when a memory of him brings me to tears I cry. Yet I do not cry in vain or in despair because of the expectant hope I carry. I also believe in the power of prayer. When I pray, I feel God comforting me and even taking my pain away. I pray in the moments when I feel unsure of this hope I carry or feel overwhelmed with sorrow. I feel at peace in my heart when I seemingly have no reason to because I look to a higher power. He brings me hope and strength for each moment of each day. He sustains me such that I feel a lightness of being. 

Relying on My Loves

Something else I’m finding so helpful in dealing with loss is reaching out to my family and my friends. I lean on my mum, my siblings, and extended family now more than ever just as they lean on me. My friends are a lifeline I draw on again and again. I always say that when I count my blessings, my loves, the people I hold near and dear, are right at the top of the list. A phone call, a text message, or sometimes just knowing they are available has been something I rely on every day. When I need to give expression to my grief, whatever that looks like in the moment, they allow me to do that and are there for me. Sometimes I just want to have a regular conversation. Sometimes I don’t want to speak at all. They are available through it all. If you’re reading this my loves, thank you very much. I love you deeply.

Doing What I Love

Doing what I love and enjoy can be so cathartic. For me, this means enjoying the simple ordinary pleasures of everyday life. I call this “going back to basics”. I find it can be healing for me. Things that I enjoy but would ordinarily take for granted give me something to do in the moments when, in my grief, I don’t know what to do with myself. They are like food for my hurting and broken soul. I take pleasure in a hot beverage much like Sheldon Cooper would recommend. Coffee or tea usually does the trick. At times, I sip it as though it were the last drink I will ever have. It reminds me that I am still alive especially in the moments when I feel like I really don’t want to go on. 

I take a walk in the park and immerse myself in the experience. I take a refreshing hot shower and feel grateful that I have hot running water. This past weekend I went to the beach. It was painful because I experience memories of daddy pretty much everywhere I go. The beach was no different. I tell myself it’s an indication of how much I loved him and the good times we shared. It’s a testament to the relationship we had. I tell myself the hurt will subside but the memories will remain. Sometimes I watch an inspirational or funny video. Whatever feels good at that moment, no matter how mundane or ordinary gets me through the rough moments. In short, I give myself some extra TLC.

Holding onto Good Memories

When something terrible happens, it may be difficult to remember the good times or to find the good in the world. I find that in those moments, my soul yearns for the good much like my lungs might yearn for air in an oxygen-deprived environment. Thankfully, I have a rich memory bank to draw from. I was pleasantly surprised and grateful at the good memories that flooded my brain even moments after hearing of daddy’s passing. I felt the need to surround myself with photos and thoughts of him, the things he said, the things he did, the things he loved and enjoyed. Every day I remember the good times we shared, the good things he did, and taught me. I talk about it every chance I get. I allow myself to be blessed and enriched by it even if, right now, it’s mixed with sorrow. When the sorrow clears, only the good will remain.

Talking About It

Grieving is a very challenging and difficult process. It is painful, life-altering, and may rock you to your core. You will need help as you go through it. One of the things that help is talking about it. They say a problem shared is a problem halved. I don’t know about halving but speaking what’s on my mind and heart has been really helpful. I give myself permission to talk about where I’m at emotionally, psychologically, etcetera. I say to give myself permission because a lot of the times I want to bottle in it. I am an introvert. I am a private person. Plus, I come from an African culture where talking it out isn’t the norm. I am intentional about letting it all out when I talk to my family and friends or when I am in a space where I feel safe and encouraged to talk it out. 

Choosing to Go On

This is a tough one. I will not lie to you, my friends. How do you go on when your life shifts in such a profound and painful way? How do you pick up the pieces when your world and your heart feel shattered? In the first few days after daddy passed, same as when Ruthe did, I remember watching people around me and thinking to myself, “How can they carry on as if the world is still the same? They are blissfully unaware that someone who meant the world to me isn’t in this world anymore. Even those that are aware aren’t affected as I have been. The world needs to take a pause.” 

However, the world doesn’t pause. Time doesn’t stand still. Whilst that sucks, I also find that there is power and a quiet strength I get from choosing to go on. Some days, going on means just making it out of bed and taking a shower. Yesterday I made it out of bed only to get back into bed at midday, vowing to “go on” later on because I couldn’t at that moment. Other days it means I have a productive, ‘normal’ day, ticking stuff off my task list and feeling like I have things under control. Whatever it looks like on any given day, I choose to carry on.

Taking Things Moment by Moment

A good friend of mine likes to say, ”How do you eat an elephant? One bite at a time.” I’m not sure why we’re eating elephants but I like the analogy. The best way to get past a mammoth task is one small step at a time. Learning to live in my new reality is a daunting and painful task I can only do step by step. Sometimes a step is 5 seconds because I feel I only have the strength and will to make it past the next 5 seconds. At times, a step is an entire day. Over time, I know a step will get longer and longer. What I need the most now is to be patient with myself and not rush the process. 

Helping Others

I find that shifting my focus to others’ needs and how I can help them to be very healing for me and possibly for them as well. I feel less alone when I help someone else. I feel really good about myself. My own pain doesn’t go away but taking the time to help someone with their need takes my mind of mine. I also like the idea of using my experience and pain to bring about some good for someone else. That, in turn, also surrounds me with goodness. Of course, this not an exhaustive list but these are the main things that are helping me the most during this time. I hope you get some value out of reading this and perhaps using some of it.

Love,