Loss & Grief – Two Years On


When I wrote the post “Loss & Grief – A Year On” I had no intention of it becoming a series. I guess I didn’t realise I would still be struggling so much a year later.

I obviously didn’t expect sunshine and rainbows, but I definitely thought it would be easier to get on with my day-to-day life.

Most days I still struggle to get up in the morning, or even the afternoon. I feel like I have nothing to get up for. Nothing feels important enough to me anymore because Dylan has always been my priority. I often go days without showering. I don’t eat until dinner, I don’t feel hungry, I don’t feel anything. I don’t sleep until 2am, 3am, 4am. In fact, last week, I didn’t go to bed until 6:30am when Sam got up for work.

I’m not myself but how can I be. I don’t know what myself is. Dylan was such a big part of me, I don’t know how to be without him.

I want to write these posts at least once a year because the more time has gone on the more frustrated I’ve become with how taboo grief is. None of us are taught about it in School or at any point in life. We don’t know what to expect until we have to go through it ourselves.

I want to write these posts to show the people who are grieving that they are not alone, the crazy things you do are not so crazy after all, grief is a strange thing. I want to write these posts to help people who haven’t been through it to be able to understand how it feels, to try to be more empathetic towards those who are grieving, and so that when you are unfortunately but inevitably forced to go through it yourself you will be better prepared than I was. But above all I want to write these posts for Dylan.

“Dia de los Muertos” or “Day of the Dead” is a Mexican tradition I’m sure we’ve all heard of. Yet somehow I only recently discovered the Mexican belief in three deaths. This is a belief I have now adopted and adore.

“In our tradition, people die three deaths.

The first death is when our bodies cease to function; when our hearts no longer beat of their own accord, when our gaze no longer has depth or weight, when the space we occupy slowly loses its meaning.

The second death comes when the body is lowered into the ground, returned to mother earth, out of sight.

The third death, the most definitive death, is when there is no one left alive to remember us.” – Mexican tradition, Dia de los Muertos

If I continue to write these posts and share Dylan with you all, he can live through you. If I share the messages Dylan taught me well enough, he can live on long past me. That thought gives me so much comfort.

I have tried and tried to find a way to write down how I feel, but it’s not possible. There is so much I want to say, but for now I’m too exhausted. So I’ve decided, for now, the best way is to show you my most vulnerable.

I have a book, it’s leather bound, engraved with my initials. A present from Dylan, on my 18th Birthday. It’s priceless. In this book I write letters to Dylan.

In the hope that maybe this will help you understand, here is one of my recent letters to Dylan.


20th September 2016

“Hey DD,

It’s well past my bedtime but I couldn’t get to sleep. I couldn’t stop thinking about your beautiful brown eyes and hair. I miss you so much.

I’m trying really hard to stay positive. Lots of things are going well for me at the moment. I just can’t seem to be happy without you.

Not a single day goes by that I’m not thinking about you.

Your beautiful smile. The way you smell. The way you giggle. Your raspberries.

It’s so hard to keep going without you. I know I have to. It’s just not getting easier.

The worst thing is, people expect me to be ok now. As if two years could possibly be enough time. A lifetime isn’t long enough.

You still inspire me so much. To work hard, to make the most of absolutely everything, to cherish everyone I love.

All I want is you.

I want to hear your laugh. I want to feel your cuddles. Hold your hand. But I can’t. And I don’t know how to cope with that.”



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