When Something Wonderful Happens and They're Not Here to Tell

The unexpected grief that can arrive in the middle of a happy moment.

There is a particular kind of sadness that arrives when something good happens.

Not when life is falling apart.

Not on an anniversary or a birthday.

But right in the middle of something wonderful.

You get the job. Your child achieves something extraordinary. You hear some exciting news. Something happens that would have made them laugh.

And for a fleeting moment, you want to tell them.

Perhaps you even reach for your phone.

Then you remember.

And suddenly, this lovely thing has a sadness running straight through the middle of it.

Because the person you would have told first is no longer here.

The people who knew what our happiness meant

We all have people who understand the significance of things without needing an explanation.

The person who knew how hard you worked for something.

The one who understood why a particular achievement mattered.

The person who would have been ridiculously proud, even when you thought you hadn't done anything especially remarkable.

They knew the history behind your happiness.

And when they die, we don't just lose somebody to share our sadness with.

We lose somebody who knew how to celebrate our joy.

That is a loss in itself.

Because there is something irreplaceable about hearing the voice of someone who loves you saying, “I knew you could do it.”

Or imagining the expression on their face when you told them your news.

Or knowing they would have been the first person on the telephone, telling absolutely everybody.

Happiness doesn't cancel grief

One of the more confusing things about bereavement is discovering that happiness and sadness can occupy exactly the same moment.

You can be genuinely delighted about something and desperately sad that somebody isn't here to see it.

You can laugh until your stomach hurts and then find yourself crying five minutes later.

You can celebrate a milestone while feeling the absence of someone who should have been standing beside you.

Neither feeling makes the other less real.

Your happiness isn't a betrayal of the person who died.

And your sadness doesn't mean you're incapable of enjoying life.

It simply means that something important is happening in a life that no longer contains someone important to you.

Of course that can hurt.

The milestones they will never see

Sometimes this kind of grief is about the future.

The wedding they won't attend.

The grandchildren they won't meet.

The new home they won't visit.

The person you've become that they will never get to know.

And sometimes it's something much smaller.

A television programme they would have loved.

A ridiculous story from work.

A photograph you know would have made them smile.

An ordinary piece of news that means very little to anyone else.

Those smaller moments can catch us completely unprepared.

Because we tend to anticipate grief around the significant occasions.

We don't necessarily expect it when we're standing in the kitchen with a piece of good news and nowhere to send it.

What if someone shares their happy news with you and then becomes upset?

If you are supporting someone who is grieving, this is worth understanding.

They might tell you something wonderful and then unexpectedly become emotional.

You don't need to rescue the happy moment.

You don't need to tell them that the person who died would want them to enjoy themselves.

And you certainly don't need to suggest that being upset is somehow spoiling the occasion.

You can simply acknowledge both things.

“This is such wonderful news. I wish they were here to celebrate it with you.”

Or:

“They would have loved hearing about this, wouldn't they?”

Or even:

“I know there's someone missing from this moment.”

You don't have to choose between celebrating their happiness and recognising their sadness.

You can make room for both.

And sometimes that is exactly what they need.

Finding somewhere for the news to go

There isn't a single right way to handle these moments.

Some people still speak aloud to the person who died.

Some write things down.

Some share their news with somebody else who knew them.

Some keep a photograph nearby.

Others simply allow themselves a quiet moment of remembering before carrying on with their day.

And some don't want to do anything at all.

There is no obligation to turn every achievement into an act of remembrance.

No requirement to find meaning in the sadness.

Sometimes you just wish they were here.

And that is enough.

You can be happy and still wish everything were different

Perhaps one of the hardest things about living after loss is accepting that life will continue to contain beautiful things.

Not because the loss has become smaller.

Not because we have forgotten.

But because life, inconveniently and sometimes wonderfully, continues.

There will be reasons to smile.

There will be achievements worth celebrating.

There will be days when something unexpectedly lovely happens.

And there may always be moments when we think:

Oh, how I wish you were here for this.

I don't think we need to make those moments into something positive.

I don't think we need to explain them away.

Because sometimes the sadness we feel in the middle of happiness is simply the recognition of how much somebody mattered.

They were part of the life in which we imagined these things happening.

And now, when those moments arrive, we notice the space where they should have been.

So celebrate the good news.

Feel proud of what you've achieved.

Laugh when something is funny.

And if the tears come too, let them.

You are allowed to love the life that is still happening while missing the person who should have been here to share it.

Both things can be true.

And neither needs an apology.

With love, Di

Words Worth Keeping

Thoughtfully written words for grief, love and life's hardest moments.