holiday essentials: passport, towel, grief...

t/w death and grief

As we are in the midst of Summer, I’ve been thinking a lot about our family holidays, and have been reflecting on the bittersweetness that comes with making new memories without them.

All photos are of Dad on holiday :)



 We gave Dad’s 60th birthday trip to Iceland a miss as it felt slightly less celebratory going without the birthday boy himself. As much as family bonding time over the Northern Lights and hot springs would have been nice, we were unfortunately busy being bonded through something considerably less fun.

I’ve always loved travelling and going out of my comfort zone, something which has largely been inspired by my Dad, and I was fortunate enough to experience a year of travel and living abroad in 2023 which I absolutely adored. So, another strange adjustment of grief for me was the initial craving to spend as much time as possible in the comfort of my own home or university house. I think the most exotic places I went to in the first couple of months post death were the crematorium or Jesmond’s luxy new Gregg’s. This mundane lifestyle contradicted the new part of my brain that told me I need to live everyday like it’s my last and do all the things Dad now can’t, but naturally during that time skydiving and bungee jumping weren’t top of the priority list…


A few months down the line after lots of processing,  journalling, and binge watching Britain’s Got Talent golden buzzer auditions, although the sadness of the loss is as acute now as it has always been, I feel within myself that even 7 months later it is somewhat more manageable. It used to feel difficult leaving home at all, but now I not only feel able to travel but it is also something I want to do - this may seem trivial and insignificant; but to me it feels like a big step.


However, despite looking forward to going away and rationally knowing that there is an extreme likelihood that I will have a lovely time, leaving home for the first time to go abroad without family after something so shocking felt daunting. I’ve always been famously bad at goodbyes at the best of times, and unsurprisingly this year they feel even heavier than normal. But despite the mixture of excited and nervous anticipation, I went away to Kenya for a few weeks with some friends and had a great time. 


I was so blessed to experience so many incredible things and spend time with such special people in such a beautiful place, and I am so thankful to be able to have had these times. But despite this, there were definitely some humbling moments which crept up on me as, even though I hoped I could leave my grief at home, I was reminded that it doesn’t matter where you are or who you’re with, it is something that will always be there, even if it’s not invited. 


I have no shame in admitting that I absolutely love a cry, but I think my British awkward brain resists breaking down randomly in front of people to avoid potentially uncomfortable situations. Despite the fact I was around people I love and feel safe with, my bodily reaction to the uninvited waves of grief, instead of dissolving into tears, was to just completely disassociate. There were multiple occasions when people would repeatedly try to get my attention by asking me simple things like passing the water, but I’d simply be staring into space just thinking of my Dad. My record level disassociating meant sometimes I was so away with the grief fairies when I needed to be concentrating, that we almost crashed a boat. 


I had to remind myself that these moments are completely normal, and being in social situations when there is a lot going on in your head can be difficult, and I know that doesn’t just apply to people grieving. More often than not, it’s not a case of just ‘snapping out of it’, so I’m training myself into letting the people around me know that I’m having a moment. Although I know this is easier said than done, as randomly bringing up grief mid-wholesome evening can be a bittt of a vibe killer and might not feel fully necessary, however every time I have given someone a heads up, I’ve found it really helpful in feeling less isolated as others are simply aware.


Another thing that was lovely about Kenya, as well as the activities, was the downtime where I managed to read three books (something seriously off brand for me). There was one poignant paragraph in ‘Reasons to Stay Alive’ about the benefits of travelling (a book by Matt Haig who talks about his mental health struggles, and contrary to the title is an uplifting and heartwarming book that I’d really recommend);


 “Of course, travel isn't always a solution. Or even an option. But it certainly helps me, when I get the chance to go away. I think, more than anything, it helps give a sense of perspective. We might be stuck in our minds, but we aren't physically stuck. And unsticking ourselves from our physical location can help dislodge our unhappy mental state.” 


Given that this context is about depression rather than grief specifically, and grief is not always just coping with internal battles but also an external reality, it surprised me how much of it resonated with me, highlighting how the two can be so interlinked. 


One of the realities I’ve found is that although I still love doing the things that I enjoyed before Dad died (like travel), grief finds ways to infiltrate countless aspects of your life, so these once totally enjoyable things can now be seen as a double-edged sword. Or bittersweet. Or any other cliché of that essence. 


There is always good in the sadness, but also sadness in the good, and perhaps this feels exacerbated when on holiday, as you’re experiencing lots of those good times without them. Every sunset watched is another one they’ll never see, but at the same time you feel even more blessed to experience these things yourself and appreciate it even more. 


So yes, being away from home is hard, not being able to share new experiences with them is hard, and generally adapting to new environments when there is a lot going on in your head is also hard. Having said this, I feel so grateful to be able to still experience incredible things despite the loss, and it is reassuring to know that there are still happy times to be had. Maybe not with him, but for him- something which is perhaps even more gratifying. Dad travelled lots and while he never made it to Kenya, I know he’ll be glad I did, and would want me to travel more. He’d probably also want me to get a job at some point..!


Lots of love, Ruby

:) 








 

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