The grief that hits you

Whakatūpato | Warning: This content discusses bereavement by suicide and may be distressing to some readers. Please take care and remember that support is available if you need it.

Some losses change the shape of your life. The type of grief that hits you after the death of someone you love by suicide or suspected suicide is one of them. It doesn’t just bring grief. You can be swamped with shock, confusion and unanswered questions. Fractured relationships and sleepless nights can become the norm, and the world can feel as though it has shifted beneath your feet.

People around you may not know what to say. Some disappear altogether – there’s discomfort in a death, but there are added layers to this grief. Others try to comfort you with words that miss the mark, no matter how well-intentioned.

What many people discover is that bereavement through suicide is different. This is the grief that hits you differently, not because your love was greater than anyone else’s – suicide can leave behind questions with no clear answers.

And our minds are wired to search for answers while you’re feeling disconnected from the world around you. Sitting with things like:

• brain fog
• exhaustion
• irritability
• numbness
• anxiety

The questions that don’t let go.

Many people find themselves replaying conversations. You know there were other options and help available.

Did I miss something? What if I’d called that day? Why didn’t they tell me?

Sometimes these questions become so familiar that they feel like permanent companions.

The difficult truth is that our minds often prefer painful certainty over uncertainty. If we can find something to blame – even ourselves – it can feel more manageable than accepting that some things may never be fully understood.

Self-blame can become a way of creating the illusion of control.

You are left facing one of life’s hardest moments. That reality is deeply painful. And universally human.

Grief is love reminding you that it’s there.

You might cry every day.

Or not at all.

You might feel numb for months before the grief hits you all at once.

You might laugh one afternoon and then feel guilty for laughing.

You might feel relief that someone’s suffering has ended and unbearable sadness that they are gone.

You might feel anger.

Confusion.

Love.

Resentment.

Longing.

Sometimes all of these within the same hour.

The thing is, grief isn’t a straight line. We’re told to expect various stages, but in reality, that doesn’t mean you’ll move through them in a tidy order. Grief feels messy, individual and nothing like a textbook.

The best and kindest thing you can do is know that grief moves in waves.

Some days the sea is calm.

Other days it knocks you off your feet and takes the breath from your lungs without warning.

Over time, those waves become less overwhelming, but they can still arrive unexpectedly on birthdays, anniversaries or an ordinary Tuesday afternoon. A tsunami of emotion might hit you because you heard a song or caught a familiar scent.

That’s love reminding you it is there, finding its way into your day.

When the world moves on before you’re ready.

One of the loneliest parts of any bereavement is that the world carries on long before your heart does.

Work expectations return, and the bereavement leave that once sounded reasonable is now an unfathomable measly number of days.

Conversations move on. People become hesitant to mention their name, sometimes on purpose and with good intentions to distract you. Meanwhile, you might still be trying to make sense of a reality you never imagined and can’t comprehend.

This can leave people feeling isolated, even when surrounded by others. You might begin to wonder if you’re grieving too much or for too long.

But the hard truth is, grief doesn’t have an expiry date.

Life slowly grows around it. The loss becomes a part of your story rather than the whole story.

And that takes time. Often, a much longer time than society expects.

Keep moving, find the activities which can carry you through and know that as life slowly grows, it will also bring growth.

Remember them as a whole person.

When someone dies by suicide, it can feel as though the way they died overshadows the way they lived. Yet your loved one was so much more than the circumstances of their death.

They had favourite songs.

Funny habits. Inspiring habits. Annoying habits that now bring a smile to your face.

Dreams.

Friends. Hobbies. Favourite TV shows.

A laugh you could recognise from another room.

Things that made them wonderfully, imperfectly human.

Remembering those things isn’t denying what happened. It’s refusing to let one moment define an entire life.

The beautiful part of healing.

Many people also fear that healing somehow means leaving their loved one behind. But it doesn’t.

The beautiful part of healing is learning to carry both love and loss together. Healing isn’t about forgetting or ‘getting over it’.

You don’t stop missing someone because you’ve started smiling again.

You don’t love them any less because you’ve found moments of peace.

Our hearts are capable of holding both sorrow and hope at the same time.

You don’t have to carry this alone.

One of the quiet challenges surrounding grief is that we can try to cope by ourselves. Sometimes we can. Often we can’t.

And that’s okay.

There’s something deeply healing about sitting with people who don’t need the whole story explained. They’re the people who understand why certain dates feel impossible. The ones who know what it’s like to answer difficult questions.

Who recognise the exhaustion that comes from carrying invisible grief.

Being understood can make it feel less lonely. Sometimes that’s where healing begins.

If today is a hard day

Perhaps you found this because you’re searching for support.

Or perhaps you weren’t looking for anything at all.

Either way, if today feels heavy, this is simply a reminder:

To take today, one hour at a time.

Drink some water. Step outside if you can to connect with your environment.

Accept the help if it’s offered. Ask for help if it’s not.

Say their name if you want to and tell their stories.

Rest when your body asks for it.

And be absolutely gentle with yourself.

You have lived through something profoundly difficult.

There’s no timetable for finding your footing again.

But there are people who understand this path and who are willing to walk alongside you.

If you’re feeling ready or even just curious, our bereavement support programme offers a safe, compassionate space for people who have lost someone to suicide. You don’t need the right words or to be at a particular stage of grief. Come as you are.

Wherever you are in your journey, we hope this reminds you of one thing:

You don’t have to carry this alone. There is comfort in community.

Nā tō rourou, nā tāku rourou
Ka ora ai te iwi

With your food basket and my food basket
the people will thrive

You might like to check in on our event’s hub to see what opportunities for community and connection that we have coming up, including our next WAVES group sessions for adults bereaved by suicide.