04/08/2025
Grief takes the firm ground from under us. It makes us wobble like never before. It makes us question our being and pretty much everything else. We look around not knowing what to do with ourselves. Or what to do with anything.
I believe with all my heart that you don’t have to change a thing until it feels right for you. Until you are ready. Until the ground feels like it’s back again, just a bit. Until you want to move their glasses or their slippers. Until you want to clean out the cupboard and take out the clothes that hang there as a physical reminder of the person you loved and saw get dressed without realising what a wonderful sight it was that you took for granted. How we wish we could tell them again, yes, you look good in that.
Our loved ones things are the physical evidence that they were actually here. Our lasting tactile connection to them. If we can’t stand to move these things or put them away because they’re no longer needed, that’s okay. Because they ARE needed by us as we try and navigate our grief. Shut your ears to Pressure tapping its watch, nagging you to “move on.” Ignore that doubting voice that s telling you its not normal that you want to sleep with a piece of their clothing because it smells of them. You ARE normal. You are grieving as best you can.
I often eat my breakfast with a spoon that I found when I cleaned out my mum and dad s house. It’s just an ordinary old spoon to look at but to me it’s so very much more. As a child my mum gave it to me with the porridge she made me every morning . Now as I hold it once more I can see here in her blue dressing gown, hips swaying rhythmically as she stirred my Ready Brek hard enough to get rid of the lumps I hated. I love that old spoon because it’s my mum and me back in my hand again. A precious connection.
I still have the outfit too that my Mum wore to hospital the day she was diagnosed with that horrible brain tumour that stole her from us in just nine weeks. Not that it’s a day I want to remember but I can see her now sitting there in the consultant’s room. It was the last day she ever picked out clothes to wear with any purpose but as I look at them now it reminds me of how smart and beautiful she looked that morning and how proud I was that she was my Mum.
Memories come in all shapes and sizes. And when the time is right for you, you may like to gather some precious possessions together to place in a box, creating a treasure trove full of them.
You could personalise the box however you like, perhaps with a photo or just leave it plain and simple if you prefer. Tin or wood or anything that feels right ....you’ll know it when you find it.
And once you begin, you’ ll know just what to put in it. Tickets that take you back to somewhere special or to somewhere ordinary where you went together time and time again without even thinking about it. A scribbled note that means so much because it reminds you why they were in a hurry the morning they wrote it. A favourite hat or scarf that you can see them in without even trying. Their watch, their glasses, their anything can all go in with photos, letters and postcards sent that time you were apart and but still had so much to tell each other. Their perfume too, giving you the scent of them once again when you lift the lid. Family members can make their own boxes too safeguarding the personal connections they shared.
Pieces of precious life tucked away. Continuing bonds safe for ever. To be touched and revisited as often as you want. On your own or with others around you. A special trigger to memories that you might like to share with grandchildren one day, on anniversaries, birthdays, at Christmas or just whenever you need to a feel a physical connection to the love you shared. There for you forever.
Grief is good at isolating us, making us feel weird or mad for doing whatever we need to do to get by. Knowing that you are not the only one who kisses their photo or takes their jumper on holiday eases that. We are stronger together. And stronger still for knowing that 💜❤️
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Four Little Words