30/09/2026
So I haven’t written about grief for a while.
Maybe it’s because, even though my resolve grows and time continues to move, it just doesn’t bring new words with it.
There are only so many ways to describe something that you continue to live every single day. Right?
We do things. We laugh. We go places. We make plans. The boys achieve things. I study. I work. I campaign. I build things in Barry’s name. There are photographs of happy days that capture a moment even where the memory implants in my mind forever, and there are moments when we genuinely are happy.
But I’ve realised there is a difference between having moments of happiness and having a quality of life that can be sustained.
We have pockets of life.
And then we return to everything that still hangs over us.
Bereavement itself is heavy enough. And those who experience it understand the almost permanent state of fatigue that can come with it.
But when a death is traumatic, when there are unanswered questions, investigations, legal processes, meetings, reports and decisions still to come, grief doesn’t get to quietly find its place in your life. It is continually dragged back into the present.
Nearly four years on, I don’t feel the way I did at the beginning. Of course I don’t. Human beings somehow adapt to things they once thought impossible to survive.
But adapting is not the same as being okay. Functioning is not the same as living. Laughing is not the same as being healed. And a good day does not cancel out grief.
I want Barry back, knowing I can’t have him. But I also no longer fit my old life. I’m a completely different person, and that is a lot to process.
I don’t want to and will not “move on”. What I do consider is moving forward, carrying trauma, but moving forward still.
What I really want is something far simpler.
I want the pockets of life to start joining together.
I want a good day to become a good week without something pulling us straight back into survival mode. I want ordinary things to actually feel ordinary again. I want to make plans without everything being built around what happened to Barry, and what still has to happen because of what happened to Barry.
I want my children to grow up carrying their dad with them, without having to carry the weight of everything surrounding his death as well.
And I want us eventually to reach a place where we are not merely incredibly good at surviving a life we never chose.
I want us to have enough space within it
to actually live.
Thinking of all who are grieving.
- Shelley Martin