Hope Architect

We are currently a part of a fragment in time of our own lives moving along a continuum with an ending that we all know we will have. I find that to be a strange concept on its own. That at some point, we are no longer going to be here, and all that will be left are memories. This is the same for the loved ones that surround us, inevitably no matter how much we don’t want to we are going to lose someone in our lives, and for many of us, we already have. The grief that follows that loss is generally quite considerable, it’s not something that you ever just get through ‘in time’. 

Over the course of the last week, my therapist let me know she is going to retire, ending what will now be a therapeutic journey together of almost eight years. The lump that came to my throat on the day I found this out was painful and in the days since been told this it still sits with me but a point where I am beginning to accept what is to come. This acceptance doesn’t make this any easier, I’ve begun to feel the same kind of pain I felt when I lost my Grandma two years ago. The all too familiar onset of grief. 

Do you know that feeling? The one where you hope that what happened was just a dream even though you know it wasn’t? That heart-wrenching pain that sets in when those first few stages of accepting that what is to come will come whether you like it or not is something I absolutely loathe. 

I heard a quote about grief on the TV Show WandaVision recently delivered brilliantly by Paul Bettany (Who plays Vision) it goes: ‘What is grief, if not love persevering’. Since hearing it I’m sure I’m not alone when I say this but I’ve spent some time pondering over the meaning of this sentence and how it fits into my story. Two of the hardest moments of my life were when I lost my Grandma first, followed only 11 months later by my Grandad. Two very strong pillars in my life, people who I always looked up to and will continue to do so until the day that I am no longer a part of this world. Therapy gave me the tools to get through both of those losses (on top of so many other things) that turned me into the person that I am today. It feels strange knowing that the one thing that taught me how to process grief, is now giving me just a little bit more to process. It’s not quite the death of someone, but it’s the death of a journey that isn’t going to be a part of my way forward for much longer, which for me, is the hardest part to accept. 

I recently did a meditation called ‘Death Meditation’ (which you can find in Mary Hoang’s book Darkness Is Golden) in which you envision someone very close to you who’s still alive in this world passing away and before doing so telling you all the things that they loved in their life and wish they could have done differently. I was a sobbing mess as I did this meditation, bawling my eyes out as I watched my friend pass. In the next scene I had to see all of my friends and family grieving the loss of me, realising I was no longer there. Since the night of that meditation, I’ve worked really hard to make sure those closest to me know just how much they are loved. As soon as I found out my therapist was retiring I was straight on the phone to three of my closest friends and every single one of them was there for me when I needed them. If you are in a place where you are suffering from anything (it doesn’t need to be a loss) call your friends, call your family, and talk. Even if it seems like a mediocre issue I bet those people want to hear from you. Even when you feel like you may be at your lowest. 

During the meditation, a voice asks me: Is there anything that I regret that I didn’t do while I was alive? I had two things, the first was to tell those in my life that I love them more and make sure they know it. The second? To forgive someone who caused quite a bit of damage in my life. A journey that is now well underway. 

Accepting the fact that at some stage in my life I will no longer be alive has changed my perspective on so many things, I feel like my mind has opened up. I feel different, I feel lighter. I still turn to my Grandparents throughout my everyday life, I still feel their presence, I still hear Grandma’s stern tone of voice telling Grandad off & Grandad looking at me with a wink. When I’m in difficult situations at work I always emulate Grandad’s kindness through my own heart. If there is anything that grief has gifted me, it’s knowing they’ll forever be in my heart.

In a few months, when this journey with my therapist comes to an end I’ll write a story about what hurdles and bumps I had along the way, but until then I’d just like to thank anyone that makes a choice to help others, to go out of there way to make sure other people are okay. My therapist saved my life on countless occasions and continued to believe in me when I didn’t believe in myself. I know that the end of our journey is on the horizon, and it’s bittersweet that we were just approaching the point of tapering off the number of sessions we had as I have managed to complete a majority of my work.  I can’t help but feel that this is the beginning of a new path for me, one where my life is no longer about healing my trauma and is instead about taking care of the life full of love that I have in front of me. That’s the gift my therapist gave to me, and a gift that will stay with me for the rest of my life. Love. 

‘For what is grief but love persevering’