The grief felt guilty.
Clawing it’s way up, dragging lung and trachea with it, it seemed confused. Why now, why this loss, why not some other more easily explained? They had through the same trauma, felt their own grief and worry, dealt with it in their own way. They had not been there to see the way in which you dealt, the way in which you coped, the things that kept you grounded.
When my Grandfather was very ill a few years ago I stayed at my Gran’s to look after the dogs and my Great-Gran while she spent her time with Grandad at the hospital. My Grandfather’s accident was probably the most traumatic experience of my life so far, and he was very, very lucky to have pulled through. During that time at my Gran’s there weren’t many people to talk to, and instead it was the older dog Bessy who provided the most comfort and reassurance by simply cuddling up next to me on the settee or being in the room. Last night I found out that due to illness she’d passed away. She had a wonderful life with my Gran and was one of the softest, cuddliest dogs you could have met. I will miss the quiet reassurance of her presence.