My Grief Journey: When Grief Surprises Us

Grief has a funny way of popping up in moments you least expect. It doesn't wait for you to be at home, kleenex in hand, to bring up a memory. I always expect certain days to be hard; Mother's Day, birthdays, and anniversaries. But occasionally it catches me off guard.

I was sitting at work this morning and a wave of grief passed over me. I felt it catch in my throat and my eyes began to well up with tears. I went for a walk to catch my breath and try to regroup.

Last week my brother Chris passed away.

Chris and his sister came into our family when I was seven years old. They were teenagers and my mom had made a promise to their mom, to care for them before she passed. My mom had a special place in her heart for Chris. Although Chris struggled his whole adult life with addiction, she made sure he always had a place to come home to for the holidays and always kept tabs on where he was living.

Christopher's passing would have broken her heart.

I feel like my grief right now has compounded. I find myself relieved that my mom wasn't here to bear witness to Chris' passing, but I also feel responsible to ensure that we honor him for her. I also want to make sure that I am honoring Chris and my mom in a way that feels respectful and true to who I am.

We plan to spread his ashes at the same park as his biological mom. I will never know the pain of losing your parents in childhood, but I can only imagine the heartbreak and devastation he must have felt. To have his entire world turned upside down and to leave his home to move in with a family he just met, must have been incredibly scary.

I have fond memories of the first few years after they moved in with us. Our house was always chaotic, but they brought a new energy and dynamic. The memories of us all gathered around the kitchen in our house in Westbank, cleaning up after supper, him chasing us around the living room trying to whack us with a wet kitchen towel. We would run and laugh hysterically, doing anything to avoid having to finish cleaning the kitchen. Or when they learned to drive and we got to sit in the backseat and go along for the ride. My dad was a horrible driving instructor, and we all found it quite amusing watching them all fumble trying to remember to use the clutch and brake and not stall out on our side street near our house.

The memories flood back, whether I am ready for them or not. Grief hits at moments when I am least expecting it or want to experience it. I've learned to let them wash over me in the moment. If I don't, the waves of grief only seem to come stronger and more frequently.

I hope that some of this resonates with you, and if you ever need someone to connect with, I love speaking with parents about this journey. You can find me at This World's Ours Centre in Vancouver.

Take care,

Koryn