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. It 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, hyperaware. 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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