Miranda Writes

After Michael died, the deeper I waded into my grief, the less anything made sense. None of the ways in which I had previously understood grief helped me, nor prepared me even a fraction of what I experienced. My agony was met with platitudes, bright-siding, and a general feeling of people desperately hoping and waiting for me to “get back to normal”, and a resultant shame that I was “doing grief wrong” if I didn’t. 

The people around me had limitations on what they could do to support me. This wasn’t due to any individual fault, but because our culture is largely grief-phobic and death-avoidant. 

I’ve since come to understand truths about loss, grief and stigmatized death that I never cared to know, that I never knew I should know, and this is a place I share those truths.