HEY, IT'S OKAY
If you're not feeling quite yourself for a moment
It all started after reading an article in the Volkskrant about why you should talk more about death. How people treat you after losing a loved one and especially the grieving process that actually no one knows anything about until you find yourself in the situation where you have to say goodbye to someone dear to you. Some people compare grieving to depression: mood swings, confusion, and anger. I see the similarities, but to say that I'm depressed, no, not really. But ups and downs, a kind of rollercoaster feeling – I recognize it.
Mirthe Berentsen from the Volkskrant also spoke about the grieving process, or yes, she called it bereavement leave, and how nowadays people want everything to go quickly. Everything that is digital, everything must be fast fast fast, so also grieving. Standard, you get three days of emergency leave in the Netherlands when a close family member dies, and sure, your boss might give you more days off, but this also makes me aware of what a ‘luxury’ (strange word for this actually) position I am in when it comes to my so-called bereavement leave. Working for someone who gives you all the time and space to deal with your grief is not a given, but something I have received.
I can only say that I agree with Mirthe. Death must be made discussable. Did you know that grief counseling is not even included in the basic insurance? It's actually a shame, because especially when you want everything ‘quickly’, helpers like psychologists are good for you. People who let you know that being sad is okay. That you are allowed to show it. But showing it is easier said than done. It should be okay if you're not feeling quite yourself for a moment, if you're sad. Speak it out, that's the first step to ensure that you feel a bit better again.
Last week it happened to me again. You are present at the nicest lunch of the year to celebrate the second edition of the magazine, you're chatting with colleagues about how nice it was and suddenly you hear it. A song that you haven't heard since the cremation of your own father. A song that you actually never hear anywhere. There you are again, mascara down to your chin while just before you had said how happy you were that you, unlike the previous launch of the magazine, had finally managed to stay dry.
Grief comes in waves. Mine always at the happy moments in my life. But I see it as something positive. That he is still there at all the moments that are important to me. A kind of pat on the back in the form of a tear; ‘Child, you're doing well.’ Or in my case Truus or Trien or whatever silly name he thought was fitting. Twenty-six years, I would have preferred to have double that, but I am aware that there are people who don't even get that and so I am grateful. And at times when I feel a bit down, I talk about it. Like now, with you, because it's completely okay if you're not feeling quite yourself for a moment.
