Processing Loss, Grieving, and Acceptance For Those Who Understand That Nobody Really Dies

I attended a lot of funerals as a child. My dad was very transparent to me and my brother about what he believed death to be. There were no kid-friendly metaphors or stories. If someone died, he casually mentioned it to us as if he were telling us what we were having for breakfast.

I don’t recall ever crying at any of these funerals. Maybe because I didn’t think it was appropriate. My parents taught us that death was simply just a part of life. I never saw them cry or mourn anyone’s death, so I simply followed suit. Plus a part of me didn’t think I was allowed to mourn something so natural.

The day my paternal grandmother died was treated like any normal day. It was a Tuesday. That morning my father called us into the master bedroom to tell us the news. There was no crying, words of remembrance, anything. “Granny died this morning,” he said with no emotion in his voice. After receiving the news we went downstairs to eat breakfast and afterwards we were transported to school.

Growing up, I oftentimes tried to process how I would react when my maternal grandmother finally transitioned. Make-believe scenarios were created in my head to figure out how I would live my life without her. After all, she is everything to me. I am her favorite granddaughter. Whenever I didn’t feel loved, I knew she was the only person in the world my depression could count out as a person who was always on my side.