5 Things I Did Not Know About Grief

Grief is defined as a response to loss, often related to death, that feels like intense sadness. But it also takes a second definition that may mean “to trouble” and “annoy”, as if to say that someone or something was causing you grief. It’s an interesting word really, that while I may have encountered versions of it before, it appears that I may not know grief very well. In a way, it has become an underlying theme that has accompanied me over the last six (6) months, that sometimes can feel annoying.

You see, my father passed away 4 months ago, but it turns out I was grieving much much sooner than the day he died. I now live 11,900 kilometers away from home, so as an expat based in another country, my experience of grief seems to be teaching me a few things I never imagined I would have to go through. I hardly write about my own life in this blog, but I figured it would be cathartic, because there are 5 things I did not know about grief that I wish I had known before, and they are:

  1. Nobody tells you about “ambiguous grief”. Ambiguity refers to a lack of clarity or exactness. The uncertainty of not knowing whether a loved one will be alive or dead the next day due to health complications can lead to a profound and complex experience of grief. In my case, I felt a significant loss when my dad lost his ability to speak and was placed in the ICU for several weeks.
    I vividly recall the moment I broke down, overwhelmed by emotion, because I could not call his mobile phone. Although he was alive, he did not have the phone with him, and the distance made me feel disconnected. The weeks that followed were some of the most challenging of my life as I struggled to comprehend what was happening. I could only communicate with him through family members who visited the ICU, waiting for opportunities to call. He could hear my voice, but I could no longer hear his, intensifying the sense of loss 7 weeks before our final goodbye.

  2. The constellations shift. Family constellations is a term used in therapy to explore family dynamics. The word constellation, however, refers to a group of stars forming a recognizable pattern. Losing someone I loved, who was integral to my life, caused a significant shift in my perspective. The experience of a daughter mourning her father prompted deep reflection on my own existence and choices. I found myself craving bold moves and sudden changes. My previous definitions of success and love no longer felt valid; they needed to be reevaluated in light of this profound loss. Grief suddenly liked to pepper everything with a bit of its own flavor. Including the way I viewed my own life, direction, and purpose.

  3. Honoring anger is so important. Grief as we know comes in stages - denial, anger, bargaining, depression, and acceptance. Anger, it turns out, is the stage of grief I dislike the most. When sadness would creep in, it often brought anger along, as if it rejected the presence of depression. Sitting with this anger revealed its purpose: it stemmed from a profound sense of self-love and self-worth. However, my sadness complicated my ability to move forward. Anger yearned for an end to the pain, wishing for a return to the functionality I once had before grief entered my life. Indeed, grief is exhausting, and I frequently find myself wishing for this experience to just disappear. But I have learned that honoring the anger is just as important as honoring the grief.

  4. Grief ghosting happens to everybody, not just me. At one point, I began exploring grief blogs and testimonials to help me navigate this challenging experience. I discovered something I hadn't anticipated: the isolation that can accompany grief. Friends had cautioned me about the potential loss of relationships, but I was skeptical. Yet, the phenomenon of being ghosted during such a vulnerable time is very real. Many people seem unsure of how to handle grief, and this can lead to unexpected silence from those I once considered close. Now, they expect you to reach out to them when you are ready, but no longer offer you any friendship in between. * shrug *

  5. Distance makes grief so profound. Living far from home can amplify feelings of grief, turning an already heavy burden into an even more consuming presence. The physical distance often intensifies the emotional gap, creating a profound sense of isolation. While everyone back home still have each other, I feel that in moments when support is needed most, it is the inability to easily connect with familiar places or people that can lead to feelings of helplessness. Memories tied to home become reminders of what is lost, making the heartache feel larger and more daunting. I have never felt more scattered in my life - struggling to find that sense of deep connection and lifelong relationships.

Today marks four months since we lost Dad. Each day, as I navigate this journey, I find myself forming an unexpected relationship with grief. It has become clear to me that I must invite her in and get to know her, just as I am learning about myself in her presence. This journey with grief is not a quick path; rather, it unfolds over time, revealing layers of emotions and memories. Despite my attempts to move forward, grief remains close. She surfaces at unexpected moments, reminding me of her constant presence in my life. These reminders can be jarring, appearing on days when I thought I had made progress. Yet, in this process, I've come to understand that grief is not something to simply overcome; it is a part of my journey that I must acknowledge.


As I continue to walk this path, I am learning to coexist with grief. It's not about getting rid of her, but about understanding her role in my experience. Acceptance is a gradual process, and each encounter deepens my understanding of who I am now, shaped by loss but also by love. This ongoing journey, while challenging, is teaching me resilience and the importance of cherishing memories, both of Dad and of the moments we shared. In that sense, grief may not always be the adversary I once perceived, but instead, a companion guiding me through this new chapter of life.