Finding Balance: Navigating Loss, Grief, and Social Connections

Jiji. Dara.

Grief is like navigating the ocean in a small boat. At first, you're in calm waters, but then a
huge wave of sorrow crashes over you, threatening to capsize your vessel. You struggle to
stay afloat, desperately trying to regain control. Just when you think you've found your
balance, another wave hits, sometimes larger and more powerful than the last.
As you continue this journey, you learn to adapt. You become a skilled sailor, not because
you sought this path, but because grief forced you to. You discover that, even in the
roughest seas, there are moments of calm, where you can catch your breath and find solace.
Grief, like the unpredictable waves of the ocean, can be relentless and unforgiving. But
remember, just as a skilled sailor can navigate any storm, you too can find your way through
grief's turbulent waters, learning to cope, heal, and eventually find peace.
Hi, I am Dara and I am Jiji, we will be your co-captains on the journey that we will take you
on today.

This journey will start with me telling you about my own experience of this internal storm.
37 days ago, I stood at a threshold. It wasn’t one I ever wanted to end up standing at. It was
the middle of summer holidays, a time when every high schooler should be at their
happiest, enjoying their remaining carefree days before returning to school. Instead, I found
myself pacing outside the entrance of the ICU- but it wasn’t only that physical threshold I
stood at. There was an internal one too, because inside that room was my grandmother. My
best friend, my biggest supporter. And she had just been pronounced brain-dead. As family
members rushed to her bedside, I stood frozen, as if stepping through the doorway would
mean that I had accepted this new reality. In the days that followed, I found myself sitting by
her bedside for hours, holding her hand and telling her about my day as her life support
machines beeped in the background. In my mind she was simply sleeping. Soon, the bubble
of peace I had built around us would be shattered and trampled on as doctor after doctor
would repeat the same thing: it is not scientifically possible for her to ever return. I felt
myself thrown into a world of grief, a world I knew nothing about. Apart from the
stereotypical experiences in grief: the denial, anger, bargaining, depression and eventually
acceptance. There were also other emotions that weren’t included in the so-called ‘5 stages
of grief’. For example, I would find myself constantly walking around with the confusing
combination of a lump in my throat and the feeling of my stomach constantly dropping
down to my toes. I later learnt that the emotion I was experiencing was fear. I was never told
that grief felt so much like fear. But fear of what? For me, it was the fear of forgetting the
sound of her voice, the fear of forgetting the memories we shared, the fear of losing myself
to the past, an alternative reality where she was still here. Grief makes you feel isolated,
damaged, and scared of absolutely everything. Everyone around me was grieving in their
own way. I didn’t want to burden them with more grievances. I didn’t know how to talk
about any of what I was feeling, or even what I was feeling, so I stuffed it down deep inside
and make grief this obstacle I had to overcome; a problem I have to solve. There is a problem
though. I didn’t even know if I wanted to solve this problem. I felt guilty every time I caught
myself trying to distract myself from my grief. Almost all the people who Ive talked to about
my loss would tell me to “move on”, “that would’ve been what your grandma would’ve
wanted”, “she would’ve wanted you to be happy”, “stop talking about her and let her rest in
peace”. But here’s the thing: how would we know what our loved ones would’ve wanted?
This is the question that had kept me from following any of their advice. I know my
grandmother would’ve wanted me to be happy, but that doesn’t necessarily mean that she
would’ve wanted me to stop talking about her, telling people her story. So, here I am, here to
tell you about the importance of having uncomfortable conversations about loss and what
your loved ones would’ve want you to do. It is during these dark times when this
conversation would act as a lighthouse, guiding you onto the path towards calmer waters.

In actuality, it is normal to experience losses. As human beings we experience different types

of losses every day. There are the ones that are more permanent than others like death or a
missed opportunity. And there are also those less permanent ones: the ending of a
relationship, an injustice, losing a meaningful object.

I haven’t seen my best friend from when I was 10 in 7 years, a very common experience. We
used play pranks on each other, play dress up together and swap snacks from our lunch.
Directed by distance and time, we drifted apart, following our individual tides. I haven’t seen
my aunt either, after she died 5 years ago, following a long battle with cancer. We would
watch documentaries and the news together. She would ask me all about the books I was
reading and give me treats whenever I came over. 3 years after that, my grandpa died
peacefully in his sleep. I haven’t seen him either. He liked to watch football and tell me
stories. After these losses I felt differently than Jiji. Don’t get me wrong, I was upset – very
upset. And I cried. And I was full of regret. But I interpreted these losses more as a “bye-bye”
and “I’ll see you later”. It felt more like they had gone on a long vacation or moved away so I
wouldn’t see them for a while. But what really struck me was the guilt that followed with the
fear of forgetting them. Forgetting their face. The wrinkles that formed with their smile. The
sound of their voice and the memories that we shared together. The fear of losing myself to
an alternate reality where they are still here. Losing the person that I was with them: the girl
that played dress up, gave book reviews, and watched football with her grandpa. And it was
partly true. You are losing the person you are when you’re with them. You present a
different version of yourself to everyone you know. This is you evolving.

 I want to talk about how a balance could be reached between remembering your loved one
and honouring who they were, and moving forwards with life. Remembering someone you
lost doesn’t mean you have to be sad all the time.