Becoming Melancholy: How My Grandson’s Death Changed The Way I Live

I continue to learn and grow as this new person I have become, a griever making my re-entry back into life among those untouched by loss. In adjusting to the new me I have come to accept things about myself that at first I assumed were temporary. I now know that I am permanently changed.

Self-awareness is a good thing. If grief has provided anything positive, it would be the soul-searching that I needed to do in order to overcome my loss. Grief shatters you, tears you apart. Rips open your soul, breaks your heart and forces you to open your eyes. When I was able to put myself back together I found my perception of everything had been completely altered.

Grief makes you aware, hyper-aware. You become more of who you really are and you see the truth of who others are as well.

In this new state of being I tend to over-analyze everything. Not to be weighed as right or wrong or to judge but to prevent the mental unrest that may unintentionally harm my fragile psyche.

I find myself living a life mostly melancholy. Although I have consistently tried to resume an overtly happy life, I now realize this was also misguided. There is absolutely nothing wrong with living my life the way I am. It is not a dishonor to Konnor to be sad at times. I am in fact, honoring him when I have moments of sadness because I am expressing my love for him. To continue to falsely create a facade of a life that does not exist would be a mockery.

I am doing much better than I was. I am for the most part happier now. I can laugh when something is funny. I smile more. For this I feel proud considering where I was two years ago. I am settling into myself, content in who I am. Shaped by grief but surviving by my love for my family and everything that is left in the here and now.

Grieving and feeling melancholy has turned me into a deeply emotional human being. Some handle loss well and manage to go unscathed. For me, the changes I have felt within myself are irrevocable. I am emotional. I am aware. I am more alive now having experienced the trauma of death.

I am blessed to experience a sunrise, my grandchildren, a beautiful song. It doesn’t bother me to feel everything so deeply. So what if I cry more than the average person. I get melancholy. I know what it means to lose someone I treasured and thought so beautiful.

Being melancholy does not mean I am depressed or sad. It is not a mood. It is a state of being. It is loving your family more. It is recognizing beauty unnoticed before. It is hearing a song and crying because it brings forth a memory whether good or bad. It is a feeling of stillness, fullness while at the same time experiencing emptiness, numbness. Melancholy is staring off into space, lost in your own thoughts in a room full of people. It’s that lump in your throat and the ache in your chest.

I have adjusted to the overwhelming emotions I can experience. I am comfortable with who I have become. Truth be told, I would rather feel so much more than care less in a world that at times can seem so cold.

When sadness knows the reason of tears, heart prepares to carry the ache for years.”  ~ Munia Khan 


Image from Pinterest

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Grieving Grandmother to Konnor Mason who passed suddenly at eight years old on November 22, 2015. With this blog I hope to share my thoughts and feelings as I move forward through grief toward hope and healing.

6 thoughts on “Becoming Melancholy: How My Grandson’s Death Changed The Way I Live

  1. I love this. I could relate to it in so many ways. I lost my granddaughter last May. I too feel like a different person. But not in a bad way but in the way you wrote about. I’m so much more aware…I feel deeper…I appreciate and celebrate everything more. Thank you for this.

    Liked by 1 person

  2. I cannot relate to losing a grandchild. I just lost the first man I ever loved, my fixer, my role model, my favorite soldier, my hero, the most giving man I’ve ever known, my dad. Although today marks 1 month since I said goodbye to him, it seems like yesterday. I didn’t accept it then, nor do I today. I’m heartbroken & devastated. The pain feels endless. After reading your blogs, I feel different, knowing there ARE people who feel & can relate to me, even when it seems like there aren’t. My heart truly hurts for you & the void you must feel.

    Liked by 1 person

    1. My Dad was also the first man I ever loved as well. I lost him in 2004. I also wrote about him in a Blog as well. I am sorry for your loss. I know losing my Dad was like losing my childhood, my best friend and the only one who truly loved me. Fathers and daughters 💔


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