I thought when she passed away, time would stop moving forward. Didn’t the world understand that she was gone? I was carrying the pain of knowing I wouldn’t be able to talk to her again. The day after she died, I woke up and thought I should call her today; I hadn’t called her in a while. Then it hit me. She’s not here to call anymore. It’s been almost a week, and the grief is more manageable, but it still doesn’t feel real. I’m half convinced she will be at the next family get-together at my parent’s house. How can she be gone? I’ve never known life without her.
The part of life I live without her started when I found out she died.
When I was twenty-three or twenty-four, in 2019, we had to put our family dog down. This was the year I had my aborted suicide attempts, had to quit working, and Molly dying was another wound I could not bear. I had a difficult time processing my grief for Molly. I didn’t want to let her go. I tried to hold tight to her and drag what memories I could bear to think of into my next phase of life. This method led to more suffering. I would have dreams of her being alive, but in the dream, I would know she was going to die someday or soon. She was so accurate in those dreams. I could almost reach out and touch her. I would wake up crying, upset that what had been there in sleep was ripped away when I woke up. Waking up from each dream felt like she had died all over again. I wanted the dreams to stop because it was so painful, and at the same time, I didn’t want them to stop because I was afraid I would lose her even more. Eventually, my therapist recommended that I write a letter to Molly. After I had written the letter, my dreams stopped. I could think about her without crying. The pain eased.
When I thought about grandma dying and how I hoped I would grieve, the only hope I would have is, ” I hope I don’t ignore the grief as I did with Molly.” Ignoring grief did not serve me well. Bolting straight up from a dead sleep, sobbing because one of the beings you loved more than anything is still gone, was miserable. I would say I’m doing a better job of allowing the tears to flow this time. When Molly died, I thought if I didn’t cry that much, everything would go back to normal more quickly. I didn’t realize there was no going back to the old normal. I found a new normal and ways to remember her that didn’t hurt, but the old normal was gone. I’m less than a week into life without Grandma, but I imagine that I will have to find a new normal. On the outside, everything looks the same. I go to the same job and the same church, and I haven’t changed. What has changed is that something that anchored me in life is gone. I’m wobbly, and I’m trying to find my footing again.
I’ll have to let you know when I feel steady again. Any advice would be appreciated.
Living on the Spectrum 
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