Life After Loss:

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Join me today with Gemma, a resilient and admirable teen, who reveals to us her consistent tussle of moving on from damaging demise...

Life After Loss:

"I suppose this is where I try to lay it all out to you, in the hope that some, even one of you, are able to find comfort." 

Gemma is a British student, thriving in the pursuit of her dreams. However, the pedestal she may be standing on (and is still carving) today has required continuous determination and optimism, especially when your comfort is disrupted ever so suddenly: 


"My childhood didn’t exactly get off to a great start. Whilst the first 8 years of my life were better than you could ever imagine, the ones that followed, initially felt as though I was in a nightmare I would never wake up from." 

"Following the untimely death of my mum back in 2012, I knew that, at the age of 9, I had lost the only person who, through thick and thin, would be right beside me every step of the way. You see, the thing about death and the loss of someone so close to you at a young age is that it comes with the inability in knowing how to go forward in life when it seems as though everything is working against you." 

And this battle is harsher when the one you've lost is not only so prevalent in your life, but also in the lives around you: 

"My mum was the kind of woman who, no matter how big or small the favour was, she’d get it done. The kind to always make sure each of her friends had a shoulder to cry on, an ear to listen to and a hug to hold onto tightly when it was needed most. Her presence would change the atmosphere of the room and her smile, well … her smile did exactly the same."

An unmistakable life snapped out of existence; yet, the light still glows so profoundly in the present. Gemma still finds it hard today to accept the fact that her mother is never coming back, for she never envisioned herself walking her journey without her: 

"The fact that I won’t come to learn everything I was yet to know about my mum kills me inside. The fact that she won’t be sat there the moment I walk down the aisle nor be there to hold onto the life she, somewhere along the line, played a part in creating." 


"But, now I get it. I now understand the concept of grief, the idea that a loss is not a feeling we experience once and then it disappears, never to be seen again (I only wish that was the case). Grief comes in waves, some bigger than others, and there’s no particular time or place that it comes from. I like to think that love is proved in the letting go. The ability to set myself free from the pain that, if I focused everything onto, would tear me apart. It's the ability to move forward in my life knowing that whilst she may no longer here in presence, that she’s here in spirit."

"I thought I’d share one of my messages that I write to my mum every year whether that be for her birthday, her death anniversary or on mother’s day – for anyone who has experienced a loss as such would understand the emotions these days tend to bring up, I guess releasing it all onto a piece of paper is what helps me to cope with it most."

  

“In life I’ve learned many lessons, but you were the toughest one. In the timeframe of our journey together you taught me more about myself than I could have ever come to learn. You showed me the feeling of true heartbreak, but you gave me the tools to recover from it. You showed me how a loss can easily become a gain if you don’t give up at the first hurdle … but most importantly you taught me the real meaning of gratitude, the purpose of truly counting your blessings and being grateful for what you already have because that’s something you never realize until it’s no longer there”.

Despite how heart-wrenching Gemma's hustle with bereavement maybe, an unexpected paradox exists within this lingering mist of desolation: 

"I guess my message here is simple. Whilst the death of my mum showed me many things; heartbreak, loneliness, and pain that I'd really never really wish upon anyone, it also, after some searching, showed me the strength, resilience and power I had gained from such a terrible loss. Strength isn’t a word you’d often associate with death. But, for me, my strength comes from my motivation; my determination and commitment in making her proud in each choice and every decision I make. The ability in knowing that everything going forward is done in aid of her legacy, the legacy which she helps to recreate as she follows beside me through life's crazy journey."

"I’m a strong believer in that everything happens for a reason, I guess it’s the reassurance I give myself when I try to make sense of the life I have lived so far. I push myself to go forward because I know I’m destined for something greater, something bigger than what expectations sought on me and something greater than what I even anticipate."

"I now sit here, nearly eight years on, writing this for you as a young woman in foster care. I don’t say this for pity. Nor do I say this for sympathy. I can truly say that right now, I’m happier than I remember being in a long time. I’ve found my comfort; I’ve found my safe haven and I’ve found my home. You see … life as we know it, is never simple, never straight and narrow. That road is going to take some turns, turns that often lead to dead ends, as well as ones that lead to new beginnings."

To draw Gemma's story to a close, she herself has some fruitful and uplifting advice in regards to chasing your own personal hopes, dreams and aspirations:

"Stay on that journey, never put the brakes on and just accelerate. Accelerate all that you can, knowing that eventually the road you’re on … it’s leading you somewhere better. You cannot control what happens to you, but you can control what happens going forward. I couldn’t imagine going on without my mum, but I guess the truth is that she wouldn’t have wanted it any other way."

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