By Sarah Roberts, whose brother died suddenly nine years ago
1. At first, I tried to carry Jonny with me everywhere. I looked for him in everything I read, heard, or saw. I brought him into every conversation. I needed to constantly remind people about him, I felt that I owed it to him to never leave him out of anything I did. After a while, that became too difficult, and I had to try somehow to let him go. With that came a new grief, a guilty one. I realise now that I don't need to be consciously thinking about him all the time for him to still be with me. Make sure you forgive yourself for moving on.
2. It doesn't get easier. I wish I could tell people that it did, but it does become easier to manage. I've learned to lean into the anniversaries. I try to really mark them, to do something nice. I take the day off work, I celebrate his birthday, I go to the beach and write him a card. Allowing myself to be really sad during those times somehow helps me not to be overwhelmed all the time.
3. Try not to let the black emptiness you feel become them, learn to separate them from the sadness. I started to think of Jonny as incredibly vulnerable because dying is the most vulnerable someone can be, but he wasn't just that. He was the kindest person I've ever known, with the most brilliant mind. He was also incredibly witty and sometimes rather smug, and a million other things. Don't let their death become so big that it purloins the life they once had.
4. Let yourself be unproductive. I didn't take any time off. When Jonny died I immediately got a retail job to distract myself, and then I went to uni two months later to study Creative Writing. I'm still not sure whether that was a good idea. I spent years partying and writing nothing but odes to him, not giving myself room to write about anything else. Perhaps I should have let myself just be for a while, or perhaps if I'd done that I would have spiralled. I found trying to be creative too painful at the time, I didn't want to connect with that part of myself, but I had to because I had deadlines. I couldn't let myself process things in my own time, and I also had to force myself to make new friends. All I really wanted at that point was to watch the Real Housewives Of Beverley Hills and cry. I wish I'd done more of that. Trying to carry on under the weight of all that sadness was exhausting.
5. Remember them with your actions. Make a list of all your favourite things about them and try to bring those qualities into your own life if and when you can. It helps me remember all the things I loved about Jonny, it makes me a better person, and it lets me remember him in a way that feels positive and constructive.
6. Remind yourself that grief can be quiet and surprising. It's not always crying on the floor, a lot of it is trying to distract yourself. Forgive yourself for the times you do weird things that you didn't realise were you grieving at all. For me it was sleeping with people I didn't really want to sleep with, or getting obsessed with people who didn't feel the same way about me. I spent a lot of time trying to feel fresh pain so I wouldn't feel the pain I felt for Jonny. These are your coping mechanisms, recognise them, and give yourself the time and compassion to change.
7. Know your triggers. There are some things that are not yet positive or helpful to me. I weep when the song Brimful Of Asha comes on because it was one of Jonny's favourite songs, and he and I once had a very silly argument about its lyrics. Letting my friends know this means they don't play it at parties when I'm around, or will step outside with me if it does. Another trigger for me is when characters in films/books/TV shows are reunited with long lost siblings (a trope more common than you'd think). It sends me into a spiral of fantasising about seeing Jonny again, and imagining what that would be like. I'm not sure how to deal with that one yet, but recognising it's there is a step towards overcoming it.
8. You won't have the right words for other people. Recently I've watched so many friends lose people, and I feel heartbroken seeing them go through something similar. I've wanted to reach out and pour love and support onto them, but I can never find the right words. All that comes out of me is the same basic hallmark card stuff. Sometimes it feels like I would be lying if I said anything positive. I also know how much it hurt me when people said the wrong thing when Jonny died, so I'm extra careful with my words. I feel extremely unhelpful, but it's good to remind yourself that every grief is so different, and take the pressure off yourself to give any guidance. Having lost my wonderful friend Katy in March, all I want is to be there for her family, but I can't find the words to tell them just how sorry I am. You won't ever be able to help other people who are grieving as much as you want to, but I still remember all the people who were there with me holding my hand in my darkest hours.
About Sarah Roberts
”My brother Jonathan died in 2011 aged 20, after being hit by a car on a night out at the end of his first year at university. He was 18 months older than me, and I found his death incredibly hard to deal with. He was the most brilliant, caring person I've ever known, wise beyond his years, and I couldn't imagine life without him. In many ways, I still can't. Thankfully I still have two lovely sisters and parents who make everything much better.”
You can follow Sarah on Twitter and Instagram.
