A year without her: Lessons on love and loss from a friendship tested by grief

Last week, in a group chat with my two lifelong friends, Debra invited us to an event this month. I excitedly declared my availability – followed by a couple more messages discussing possible dress code ideas. The journalist in me could also not resist the urge to ask several questions, to understand the event better. The third member of the group (Josie) was not online, but I was excited and sure of her availability.

When Josie’s message came half an hour later, it was to first say how excited she was about the event, but also to apologise because she will not make it. “Unfortunately, I cannot be there. The day is my mum’s first anniversary,” the message said. For a moment, neither Debra nor I said anything. I was quiet because I could not think of how to adequately respond to the message. It was unbelievable that a year has gone by since my friend’s mum passed on because I still have fresh memories of that week, like it was yesterday.

Read: Helping a friend to grieve

That fateful Thursday a year ago, Josie sent a text to inform me that her mother had been rushed to an intensive care unit. After a few exchanges that night, with me reassuring her that I was praying for her mum, I asked her if I could call. She told me to wait. I eventually fell asleep without speaking to her. Early the following morning (Friday), she sent a text informing me that her mother had passed on. Something inside me broke. I was not sure what to say to her after that – words became painfully inadequate. The rest of that day became a blur, as I waited to see my friend and say sorry to her in person.

The passing of Josie’s mother is the biggest shocker our tight friendship of three has had to deal with, thus far in our lives. Nothing could have prepared us for that level of grief. I do not even remember who, between Debra and I, called the other to make plans of how to support Josie. But I know we spoke and made plans.

Read: How best to comfort someone who is grieving

Debra and I travelled together to be with Josie. But even while making arrangements for the trip, we avoided directly mentioning the reason for the trip because we were not ready for that kind of finality. It felt as if not saying it would buy us some time. We also spent a huge chunk of the seven-hour road trip talking about the past because we knew speaking about the present would lead us to the pain we were struggling to make sense of.

That season turned out to be a test of friendship, which evolved over the last 12 months to become a teacher in at least two ways. Firstly, it was a reminder of just how fickle life can be – how quickly time comes and goes. Whenever we can, let us love wholly and deeply, be really present in the moment, because as they say, tomorrow is not promised.

Read: Off my chest: Appreciate loved ones now; they will not always be there

During that period, I asked Josie several times what her last conversation with her mother was. I was glad that my friend was left holding onto love and meaning. Secondly, the loss was a lesson on gentleness. What do you say to your friend after the loss of her mother? What can you possibly even say? Debra and I had no clear guide because obviously our ‘friendship manual’ had not contemplated such a significant loss. Instinctively though, we both knew that we needed to be there for her. Even if it was the only thing we’d end up doing, that was enough.

It has been a year of watching Josie navigate life with her dad and brothers. Watching her evolve to become more mature – she has always been the mature one of the three of us, but her mother’s loss accelerated her maturity before our eyes. I have no way of estimating the magnitude of losing a mother. However, being there for my friend these past 12 months has shown me that it is not possible to quantify that kind of loss.

The writer is the Research & Impact Editor, NMG ([email protected]).