Good Grief Festival - Hearing From Someone Who 'Gets It'

Death is a thief. It stole my father suddenly in the night when he died following a heart attack. I was 9 years old.

My magnificent mother held the family close, and together we gritted our teeth and got on with it. We talked about Daddy, but not our feelings or fears. Silently, for years afterwards, I watched her as she slept in her bed, willing her to keep breathing, not to abandon me too.

Death robbed my husband and myself of our hopes and dreams when I suffered early miscarriages as I turned 30 then at again aged 31. Miscarriage is a lonely loss for a couple, private and rarely discussed. We clung together and grew closer through it. Our joy was uncontained when, in time and with medical help, we went on to have our two sons. The pain of the loss eased, but is still there.

Sadly, my lovely Mummy died a month before our second son was born, and never got to meet him. That loss felt less raw somehow, perhaps because it seemed more timely. She had lived a longer, fulfilling life, seen her children grow up well and happy, and was much loved and cherished by many.

My Christian faith is a great source of strength. I have clung to God’s promises to care for the fatherless, to be my comforter and that ultimately every tear will be wiped from our eyes. Thanks to the blessings of good friends and a loving family and much prayer I was apparently doing fine, but still I hated death and what it does to the people left behind.

I found myself drawn to, and wanting to support and care for people, who had also lost someone dear. I searched out others who felt the same way and got some training to improve my understanding and skills.

A key lesson was realising that before being able help others I had to process and work through some of the loss, fear, hurt and pain I had experienced first. I had buried it deep but was more fragile than I cared to admit. Although scared to go digging in fact I found talking with a counsellor gloriously liberating. I wished I had not waited 45 years to start doing it.

Secondly I understood that for me to reach out to help others who are bereaved, or are facing loss, I need to be part of a supportive team. We cannot do it on our own, and we can’t ‘fix’ anyone, just walk with them for a while and share some tools that have helped us, perhaps help to begin some tender and sensitive conversations.

We are discovering some great ways of creating opportunities to do that. Sharing our stories can be a powerful help, however talking about the really tough stuff to those closest to us is often too difficult. We ran Grave Talk Cafes allowing us to explore big questions around death, dying and funerals in a safe place. Our Bereavement Journey Course had started and was proving helpful when lockdown swept the rug from under our feet. The Bereavement Journey is now available nationally online.

There are times when we long for the physical presence of someone who cares, is ready to listen and maybe offer a hug. The current situation with restrictions around Covid 19 has prevented many bereaved people from receiving the comfort they so dearly need. Suddenly everything is online and through a screen, sometimes even death as people have been unable to be at the bedside or graveside of a loved one.

Even when we cannot be together though, help and support is available. Friends and family can reach out from afar with calls, cards, concern– but sometimes we want to hear from someone who just ‘gets it’. Someone who has walked a similar path – who just knows.

Well check this out.

Bristol was host to the Good Grief Festival of Love and Loss, over the weekend 30 October - 1 November. The event was for people who are trying to process, understand and live with grief. By necessity it moved from in person to online, allowing a much greater reach. I went along (from the comfort of my home) and learned a lot and found it really helpful.

The huge range of presenters and contributors who have experienced bereavement themselves, or who have cared for the dying, picked up the broken hearted, navigated a way through loss, counsellors, researchers and academics, all of them had great stories to tell.

They say there is no right way to grieve. The contributors to the festival demonstrated an amazing variety of responses. Some respond by campaigning, for example against knife crime or climate change, others take pilgrimages to special places, there were poets, filmmakers, writers, bakers, illustrators, musicians, comedians, podcasters, those who recover in nature or walk in wild places, some seek solace in faith. Sometimes men find it harder to talk about loss. A football team for bereaved dads offered solidarity and support. There were those whose response was very private and some bringing many others along with them.

I really wished podcasts such as the Dead Parent Club and the Grief Gang had existed in my youth to help me understand that I was not alone

Many of the discussions were hosted by Mark Lemon whose Podcast, Grief is my Superpower, is designed to help young people and adults through grief

If you have been bereaved, and maybe feel alone, or that no one else understands your situation, I recommend you take a look at the Good Grief website. I hope you will find a tribe of others who have experienced a similar loss and can help you as you journey through grief.

If you know someone who has been bereaved and are not sure what to say, or how to care for them you will find a great deal to point you in the right direction.

The whole event was free to watch live as it happened, and for £20 you can watch any or all the presentations and discussions again for up to 3 years. There is an extensive resources page and long booklist. I give it five stars!

You can find out more about Good Grief here - https://goodgrieffest.com/