real life

'I was blindsided.' What no one tells you about losing an elderly loved one.

When my nanna passed away 18 months ago, I heard the same words of comfort quite a lot.  

"At least she lived a long life," people often said.

I completely understood the sentiment. She was 87.

In the grand scheme of things, that is a long life compared to what some people get, and she’d proven to be an unstoppable force during her lifetime.

Watch: 5 Things About Grief No One Really Tells You. Story continues below.


Video via Mamamia

After surviving three strokes in her 30s and raising two children after her divorce, my nanna Olive spent more than 30 years volunteering at her church and then her retirement village looking after people she called "the oldies" – despite the fact most of them were younger than her.

She never wavered in her commitment to be there for people who needed her.

As part of her volunteer work, she often sat with those who had no family in the last moments of their life so they weren’t alone.

But when it came to her last moments, I felt completely blindsided.

I know that might sound silly, but I just always thought we’d have more time.

She still had so much to live for and I’d given birth to her first great-grandchild, who I named after her, just six months earlier.

ADVERTISEMENT

But in the time since, I’ve realised that losing a grandparent when you’re an adult takes on a different depth of loss than it does when you’re a child.

Here’s what I’ve learnt:

People tend to minimise the loss.

Let me be clear: I know this is absolutely not intentional.

I’ve done the exact same thing to pretty much every person I know who has lost an elderly relative, saying things like, "She had 80 amazing years" or "At least he lived a long life."

After all, it is the natural order of things, so it’s much less of a shock than when someone younger dies unexpectedly. In a way, you assume that someone will be able to move on quicker and accept the loss as part of the circle of life.

But when my nan passed, I couldn’t shake the feeling that she’d been robbed of at least a few more good years.

Image: Supplied.

ADVERTISEMENT

I guess it’s because the sentiment that it was someone’s "time to go" doesn’t really account for the memories you still expected to make with them.

It’s never enough time.

I heard some profound insight into grief from a Hollywood actor (of all people!) last week.

It was a resurfaced video of Andrew Garfield when he appeared on The Late Show with Stephen Colbert back in 2021. The Amazing Spider-Man star got overwhelmed with emotion as he spoke about his mum, Lyn, who died of pancreatic cancer in 2019.

"I love talking about [her], by the way, so if I cry, it’s… only a beautiful thing," he said.

"This is all the unexpressed love. The grief will remain with us until we pass because we never get enough time with each other, right? No matter if someone lives until 60, 15, or 99.

"So I hope this grief stays with me because it’s all the unexpressed love that I didn’t get to tell her. And I told her every day!"

I couldn’t have put it better myself.  

As Andrew says, it doesn’t matter if your loved one was young or old, you’ll still always want more time with them.

And what I wouldn’t give to have one more afternoon cup of tea with my nan.

Your grief is still valid.

Still feeling deep grief for someone who passed nearly two years ago is a complex feeling when I look around and see some of the suffering going on in the world.

ADVERTISEMENT

Particularly in my job as a writer, I hear of shocking family tragedies and losses daily.

So sometimes I do find myself thinking I need to, in a way, just suck it up.

But I’ve come to learn that a loss is still a loss. Regardless of what other people are going through, you’re allowed to mourn your loved one however you like.

Everyone’s grief is unique to the relationship you had with the person and there can’t really be a finite timeline on it.

The "constant" in your life has to shift.

For the first 33 years of my life, my nan was one constant presence.

While my parents both worked hard, she often cared for me and my younger brother. She seemed bulletproof to us.

Listen to No Filter: On this episode, Mia talks about grief – because it’s okay not to be okay. Post continues after video.

But when that steady relationship suddenly disappears, you do have to go through a period of readjustment.

I’ve lost count of the number of times I’ve gone to call her on the phone when I jump in the car (because it's what I always used to do), or wanted to ask her a question I’ll now never know the answer to.

But, like anything, it takes time to adjust to the new normal in your family. What I do know is I am grateful to have had her in my life for 33 years.

And that will have to be enough.

Feature Image: Supplied.