(How I’m Still Learning to Heal, 20 Years Later)
I was just 9 years old when I lost my maternal grandfather. He was my world — the start to my day and the end to it. He wasn’t just family; he was my comfort, my protector, my safe space.
He passed away due to uncontrolled diabetes and an unfortunate fall — something that changed my life forever. I used to believe that grief heals with time, but now I know… it doesn’t quite work that way.
😔 The Weight of Guilt and What-Ifs
To this day, I carry a heavy sense of guilt. My grandfather did everything for me — he got me ready for school, helped with my homework, washed my clothes, wrapped my notebooks, fed me, and put me to sleep. He was incredibly loving… and incredibly possessive in the most beautiful way.
The day he died, he was washing my school clothes when he slipped in the bathroom. He broke his pelvis and needed surgery. But due to his diabetes, he didn’t make it. I’ve blamed myself for years.
Every pension day was our ritual. Coke for me, Sprite and jalebis for him. If we missed it, I’d throw a tantrum. And now, every pension day carries the weight of a memory that feels both sweet and unbearable.
I often think:
- What if he hadn’t fallen?
- What if we had managed his diabetes better?
- What if I hadn’t let him do my chores that day?
I remember every second of the day he died. That kind of memory never fades. The earth didn’t just shake — it shattered. It felt like the rug was pulled from under me, and I was left in complete darkness.
🖤 He Was My Person
He made me feel wanted, safe, and understood. He was my sense of peace and belonging. And even after 20+ years, I haven’t “moved on.” At least not in the way I thought I would.
But one thing I’ve come to understand is this: we have no control over life. He wasn’t a child — he made his choices. Does that stop me from breaking down with guilt? Not at all.
💬 Grief Is Love With Nowhere to Go
Grief arrives uninvited. It’s heavy, hollow, and unpredictable. Whether it’s the loss of a person, a pet, a relationship, or even a former version of yourself — grief doesn’t follow rules. It simply asks to be felt.
🌫️ There’s No “Right” Way to Grieve
- Some days I cry myself to sleep wishing he was here.
- Some days I feel nothing at all.
- Some days I laugh — and then feel guilty for it.
- Some days I believe I can solve all my problems if I could just talk to him again.
- Some days, I think: It’s been 20 years — I should be over it by now.
But I’m not. Grief comes in waves.
And sometimes, I fear his memories are fading — his voice, his face, the little things he taught me. It feels like betrayal.
But I’ve learned: that’s all okay.
Grief isn’t linear. It’s messy, personal, and valid in all its forms.
💭 What Helps When Nothing Else Does
1. Let Yourself Feel
Suppressing emotions only buries the hurt. Give yourself permission to feel it all — the ache, the guilt, the love.
2. Write or Talk About It
Speak to someone. Write in a journal. Start a blog. I’m not sure if anyone even reads this, but writing this? It’s cathartic. It helps.
3. Create Rituals
Light a candle. Visit an old memory. Draw something. These small acts can anchor you.
My mom removed all pictures and memories of him because it was too hard for her. The only memory I have is a self drawn potrait of him that I keep close to my bed. It really helps to have him close by.
4. Seek Support
Talk to a friend, a therapist, or a grief support group. And if you don’t have someone, reach out — email me. I’m here for people like me. Grief can feel isolating, but it doesn’t have to be.
🌱 Healing Doesn’t Mean Forgetting
We don’t “get over” grief — we grow around it. In time, the sharp edges soften, but the love remains. It becomes part of who you are.
If you’re grieving, please… be gentle with yourself.
Healing doesn’t require strength. It asks for honesty, patience, and heart.
One breath at a time.
Until next time,
Happy Healing. 🕊️
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