One Friday night last March I was overwrought with grief and exhausted from, what felt like, constantly swimming against the stream. I crawled into bed defeated from the working week and simply cried. I wanted to shut the whole world out and grieve.

All the while my phone was on the side buzzing constantly. It was Evee bombarding my WhatsApp with excited messages about all the comments we were receiving on one of our blog posts.  

Up until that point we hadn’t received much traction. Our blog was simply an online abyss where we would scream “I’M REALLY SAD TODAY AND LIFE HURTS” and then we’d shut the laptop and carry on swimming against the current. 

When we were plunged into such dark and uncertain waters in a life without our mum, we created this blog. We created this blog to become the people that Katie and Evee needed in the darkest moments. 

What we didn’t realise though was that, through this blog, we were entering into a community where we would receive comments daily telling us of similar situations: from other daughters, sons, husbands, wives, mums and dads, all grieving like us. 

We never expected to feel so supported by your comments of encouragement or simple “me too” messages or a “hang on in there, it does get better”. Knowing other people were able to survive such loss gave me hope and shined a light on a future that I thought I’d never be able to attain after losing our mum. 

Today, Evee and I are reflecting on the progress of our blog from a little café on Dartmoor over a cream tea (how very quaint). This blog has given us a weekly slot where we force ourselves to look beneath the surface of “I’m fine thanks” and truly reflect on how Katie and Evee are feeling. 

It has also given me the opportunity to write something for the first time that isn’t going to get graded. In my first post I think I mentioned that I wasn’t much of a writer, but through this blog I have come to know that I actually quite like it!

The Grief Reality has been a place for the pair of us to put our grief into very honest words. Without realising it, in our time of need, we reached out our hands and all of our readers reached right back.  And, for that we are so grateful. 

Thank you.


25 thoughts on “Grateful

  1. Wonderful post. Bless you. This is the truly wonderful thing about blogging. People just pop up out of nowhere and say kind things. 🙂 I’m a new reader of your blog. But I had the same experience with mine. My dad died three months ago on Sunday after 14 years of Alzheimer’s. It’s a different kind of grieving I guess because you grieve so much while they’re still alive you are surprised that it still hurts a lot when they die. I have found your blog really helpful. So thank you, you’re doing something wonderful. 👍🙂

    Liked by 1 person

    1. I’m sorry to hear about your loss and thank you for sharing. No matter how “prepared” you feel nothing can prepare you for the aftermath of grief without that person. Glad you have found some of our posts helpful, thank you for following 💗

      Liked by 1 person

  2. I’m glad you have had such a positive and supportive experience with your blog. The WordPress community is certainly lovely and supportive I have found at difficult times.

    Liked by 1 person

  3. I was struck immediately by the excellent quality of the writing. The internet is full of people in pain, but you both articulated yours in ways that climbed right inside the hurt and dug it out, excavated it into the full light of day. It felt like catharsis for you, and at this end was like a novel where you cannot stop turning the pages.
    Brilliant, helpful, honest writing. Hats off to you both!👍👍👍

    Liked by 1 person

  4. Your words bear such genuine honesty and truth. Anyone who has grieved the loss of a loved one walks with you every day in spirit. Most important of all, God continues to help us work through our grief with His Word and prayer. You are never truly alone.

    Liked by 1 person

  5. I came across your blog thanks to your like to a comment.
    I’m experienced in being grateful since God touched my heart in 1989. My brother Francesco died of an overdose at the age of 30.
    That’s not all but… Not now.
    Step by step.
    Hugs from Italy
    Vicky 😊

    Liked by 1 person

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