Enduring Grief Through A Pandemic

Are you truly alone if all the people around you are on your computer screen? Did I want to be alone? I’m not sure. When family members have previously passed away, the idea of congregating together, sharing memories and a simple hug would seem to make for a natural grief journey. The notion of ‘compassionate leave’ was non-existent as during national lockdown we all went virtual- so taking time out of your *now* online life seemed wrong. And despite the clear efforts of my support network to make sure I was okay, something still wasn’t quite right. Not physically meeting with people meant that my support network (outside of my family) were unable to pick up on the clear visual cues that I was struggling. That we were struggling, as a family, as a unit. 

 

There is no reasoning with death. And that is a hard pill to swallow when you’re not with the person to prevent them from doing something that could result in such an atrocity in the first place. Monday the 13^th of April 2020, Liam Michael Jones was found after his mental illness had taken so much away from him- and sadly his last breath as well. Five months on and his life and memories are still so prominently in front of me, when the rest of the world keeps moving, at what seems to be a faster pace than before. To me, Liam will never become a mere statistic of young men with mental health issues, he will be remembered as who he was, and all the amazing things he ever did. His experiences with mental health, I know, are to be shared to an extent, and I know he would want to as well in the hope of helping at least one person. 

 

The outdated concept that men should withhold explaining their emotions, bottle it up or deal with it independently is unfortunately present within current society. And for Liam, this couldn’t be more true. Letting himself become vulnerable to alcohol, it became difficult to define between reality and the blur, and eventually nothing quite made sense or worked how it should. After many hospital admissions and missed opportunities, Liam’s demons began to spiral out of control. The journey of where he was going began long before the signs became obvious to those around him, and even himself. 

 

During the pandemic and laden with grief, I found myself getting frustrated that I couldn’t talk things through with people properly. I didn’t have the opportunities to share memories, or build photo albums or just be in his presence at the funeral. I began to feel guilty as I became angrier, at what his brain managed to convince him to not be worthy, and to cause so much destruction to himself that would inevitably lead to what we were all dreading. And I still am angry. I still am pissed off. I had to watch his funeral from my computer screen, on my own, shaking and crying hysterically until I fell asleep. And I think that’s why I get so frustrated at those who flouted the social distancing rules and prevented my grief from happening how it should have. But that’s a discussion for another time. 

 

Prior to his mental health becoming mental ill-health, Liam was such a big character larger than life itself. Well to me anyway. Being 13 years older than me, he was always the cool cousin- even with floppy jet-black hair and his Bristol-ean accent that I always took the mickey out of. As a younger cousin of course that was my job. I remember him being a giant, mostly because I was smaller than him at the time, but he would always pick me up for cuddles and I would feel like I could touch the clouds. When I passed my exams at school, he was the first one to give me the tightest of squeezes and tell me how proud he was. And these are the memories that I will remember him by. 

 

As for me, and those who have had to grieve his loss in social isolation- I urge you that if you know anyone in this position, please get them to share. Share memories and spread the positive aspects of the lost-one’s life Because this COVID-19 ain’t half depressing enough without remembering the person in a negative light as well. Enduring grief through a pandemic is weird, and something I wouldn’t wish upon my worst enemy. But knowing that it can’t get much worse means that things can only get better, for me and the way in which I am still grieving. 

 

If you would like to hear more of Liam’s story, please visit the following link:

https://www.justgiving.com/fundraising/liammichaeljones