The news of death was always a surprise to me.
I remember how my grandmother was dying - so quietly, diminishing in body, time and space. Her body gradually dried up, the time she spent communicating with us became less and less, and her separation in space, so to speak, became more and more. Separation was that the grandmother now did not leave her room, slept and lived more and more, in her sleep separately from us.
I knew my grandmother was dying.
And yet, when one morning my brother called and said that there were no more grannies ...
It was experienced as “thunder from a clear sky”. It was not just a surprise, it was something that CANNOT BE. It can’t be that my grandmother was no more ...,
but it was necessary to organize a funeral, and the day after the funeral, my friend and I flew to Amsterdam. The trip was planned, and I decided not to cancel it. We need to live on, I thought, not even suspecting then that the tears that had not been cried out by themselves would not disappear.
It hit me completely unexpectedly and, thank God, quickly, when visiting one of the museums in Amsterdam. Looking at paintings illustrating the events of the Old and New Testaments, I suddenly felt unbearable pain, thoughts about my grandmother appeared and tears flowed. I sobbed. I finally understood, or rather felt, that there were no more grannies. What pains me and bitterly from this ...
And when, now I am writing these lines about her, about myself, wiping away the tears that have come over again, I understand that then - in 2009, I didn’t completely fade away, did not cry my granny. Spinning, as they say, in a whirlpool of events, and the tears - here they are - have not disappeared.
Later, when I received a second education - psychologist and psychotherapist, I got acquainted with the science of grief. First met purely theoretically at the seminar: "Woe and the stages of his residence." And then, when a person close to me unexpectedly died, I had to take a practical exam.
She handed over with her psychotherapist, because, despite all her excellent theoretical knowledge about the process of grief, about the stages of grief. Despite the thoughts that everything is about to get better, and I will begin to live again because I have something for which: children, husband, interesting work. Despite all this, I finally realized that I was experiencing intolerable, aching, suffocating pain and MYSELF I DO NOT DO IT ...
We started “from the simple”: I talked about this man for a very long time, I used the time of my therapist because I did not want to waste the time of my loved ones. I finally could talk about my grief. It is very important - not to tell, but to tell. Tell as many times as I need. I “found ears” that could listen without stopping my experiences, and there was a lot of support.
Not at once - gradually my pain began to decrease. Together with the therapist, I gathered myself in pieces. I then said so: for me now the most important thing is to put myself together in a heap, into a single whole. Happened.
Together you can survive the grief.
Together with whom, probably, you are mentally asking now? Differently. For me, this person became a therapist.
The therapist helped the therapist! - Just a slogan of some sort. I am smiling. No, in this case, the therapist helped an ordinary person cope with his inhuman grief and taught him to live anew.