Take your time, hurry up: grief is a complicated journey

Grief not only torments: it teases, too.

Just as you think you might be turning a corner, moving forward, feeling more able to do things grief grabs you again. Stamps on you. Rips the scabs off the wounds that have been carefully healing, and makes them bleed once more.

This happened to me last week: I had experienced what for me were a really good couple of days. Feeling positive, lively, like the ‘old’ Leigh.

The next morning I woke up feeling angry. The rage was entrapped inside my chest, a mass of fearsome monsters clamouring to get out. Frustratingly, I could not articulate what exactly, specifically I was angry with – I was furious with life, the universe and everything.

I wanted to shout at everyone – even if I have no idea what I would have said. It was an overwhelming urge to express my hurt and my pain to a world that seems to be carrying on as normal when my world has been destroyed.

Objectively, it is understandable that I would feel angry. After all, my ‘normal’ pregnancy ended far too early and in dramatic fashion with a rare, life-threatening complication. My much-wanted, much-loved son Hugo died in my arms after a brave 35 day fight to live.

Anger, in combination with confusion, was an overriding emotion during the earliest days after Hugo’s death. Before this happened, I was generally a relaxed person with a laissez-faire attitude to life. While I would get impassioned about issues that were important to me, I would rarely get really angry with anyone about anything.

Grief can feel frighteningly overwhelming, especially in the early days. That meant the anger felt particularly disturbing to me, and I felt exasperated when it returned – which, of course didn’t help the anger.

During this time, I had another urge – to listen to Nirvana, one of my favourite bands. This in itself represented progress, because I have been disinterested in music for the past few months. One song in particular kept circulating in my head: Come as You Are. I realised this lyric has a particular resonance:


Kurt Cobain, Nirvana’s lead singer, is quoted as saying the meaning of the song is “people and what they are expected to act like.” While others’ unreasonable expectations of a bereaved person’s recovery after grief can be an issue, the lyric helped me remember that the journey of grief is never linear.

Grief exists in a time-space continuum with no respect or consideration for the passage of time.

The Kubler-Ross five stages of grief model is often used to describe the steps the bereaved will follow:

1. Denial

2. Anger

3. Bargaining

4. Depression

5. Acceptance

This model is incredibly useful in terms of articulating the emotions that the bereaved commonly feel after losing a loved one. It helps to know that your emotions are ‘normal’, especially when it feels like the world has disappeared from under your feet.

The trouble with the list is that it makes grief seem neat and tidy. It would be wonderful if you could progress through each stage like a project plan, plotted out in a Gantt chart.

But it doesn’t work like that. It is so much more complicated. Grief is messy, ugly and painful.

There are occasions where you feel each of the stages within the course of a day, and even – as I did in the raw days after Hugo’s death – within the space of an hour. My head was spinning, and I did not know which way was up.

Grief cannot be compared with the emotions of ‘normal’ life. I thought it might be useful to compare and contrast non-grief and grief emotions in a (wholly unscientific) graph.


The non-grief emotion graph shows how in ‘normal’ life (with everyday things, everyday troubles) your mood goes up and down, undulating over the course of time. The grief graph is a right old mess: it demonstrates how much is going on in your head, often all at the same time. Highs and lows can happen quickly and unexpectedly.

It is no wonder grief is exhausting.

My heart is broken, and it will remain so for the rest of my life. There is nothing that can repair a parent after the death of their child.

Parents who are further along their grief journey tell me that it does get better. They tell me that you never recover fully – or at least not in a sense that can be meaningfully articulated. The grief just feels different. You find a way to continue with life.

It has been nearly six months since Hugo’s death. The balance of better days against the bad has been shifting recently, and that is a positive to keep hold of.

The graph will help remind me that grief cannot be hurried: it follows its own path, and its own timescale. It will remind me that grief can come crashing down on me when I least expect it. Being prepared for the lows does mean I can prepare some resilience measures to help me get on with life.

Ultimately, though, as Cobain sings: I need to take my time. This is a journey to be taken day-by-day, step-by-step.

I will come as I am.

Me and Hugo

Me and Hugo


15 Comments on Take your time, hurry up: grief is a complicated journey

  1. Tim
    September 15, 2014 at 9:49 pm (6 years ago)

    What you’re going through sounds like a perfectly reasonable reaction to your grief. Kubler-Ross’s five stages of grief is a good, rational and often accurate summary of the general process of grief – but there is nothing rational about the way individual humans grieve. There are no words of comfort I can give you, only the reassurance that nobody who knows anything about you will judge the way you feel.

    • Leigh Kendall
      September 16, 2014 at 8:13 am (6 years ago)

      Thanks Tim. It felt good just to get the words out in that post. You’re right, there’s never anything rational about grief – and it’s good to be open about that. Thanks for your support as ever x

  2. Mummy Tries
    September 15, 2014 at 5:26 am (6 years ago)

    There is nothing anyone can say that will make you feel better lovely. Grief is a complicated messy affair, so you take all the time in the world. Huge hugs xxx

    • Leigh Kendall
      September 15, 2014 at 8:43 am (6 years ago)

      Thank you for your kindness xxx

  3. The Polished Widow
    September 15, 2014 at 12:34 am (6 years ago)

    Beautifully written Leigh, so honest and true xx

    • Leigh Kendall
      September 15, 2014 at 8:43 am (6 years ago)

      Thank you lovely. I’m sorry you understand it so well xxx

  4. liquoriceuk
    September 14, 2014 at 9:17 pm (6 years ago)

    The graph is such a good way of illustrating the chaotic emotions and feelings that come with grief. Sending you love and hugs xx

    • Leigh Kendall
      September 14, 2014 at 10:39 pm (6 years ago)

      I hoped the graph would be an effective illustration, and I’m glad it seems to be hitting the mark. Thank you for the love and hugs xxx

  5. meghanoc
    September 14, 2014 at 7:45 pm (6 years ago)

    such a true graph! I love it! (for the accurate depiction, not for the real life experience)

    • Leigh Kendall
      September 14, 2014 at 8:05 pm (6 years ago)

      Thanks Meghan. I thought it was an effective way to show what my head is like, and it’s a useful thing for others to be able to relate to, too xxx

  6. menain
    September 14, 2014 at 7:44 pm (6 years ago)

    Another outstanding post helping us all to understand. Your love for Hugo shines through that chaotic graph – and our hearts go out to you both, his loving, heartbroken parents. xx

  7. Goldie
    September 14, 2014 at 5:41 pm (6 years ago)

    You sweet wonderful brave woman. Your journey has been incredible and heart breaking. I’m so sorry for your loss of Hugo and I cant imagine how you must be feeling. I must say I liked the second graph of grief emotions. Its a true representative of what it feels like day by day. I wish you all the love in the world.xxxx

    • Leigh Kendall
      September 14, 2014 at 5:43 pm (6 years ago)

      What a kind comment, thank you so much. Hugo was such a special boy, and I miss him so much. Thank you for taking the time to read and comment xxx


1Pingbacks & Trackbacks on Take your time, hurry up: grief is a complicated journey

  1. […] really does come in waves. As I described in this post, grief can be a tormenting tease. The positivity I felt from events […]

Leave a Reply

Your email address will not be published. Required fields are marked *

Comment *

CommentLuv badge