When I was grieving for my sister, Cindy, I was blessed to have time with wonderful people who supported me, who listened to my heartache, who cried with me and who uplifted me in some of my darkest moments.

There were countless times when I was alone with my despair and countless times when I felt totally alone in my grief (even when I was around people who cared about me and supported me).

Today I realize my social support had been a lifeline (To talk with I’d had: my sister, Marlene, a counselor, sometimes my husband (bless his heart—he had wanted us to “move on” and “be happy” but I needed to work through a lot of grief before I could do that, so I often needed to explain to him how I was feeling and ask him to be patient with me), and various friends—it had been up to me how much I shared with any of them.)

At the time I never felt I had a resistance to mourning, but now I realize I had. (I initially could not cry in public—I had mistakenly thought it was a weakness and was ashamed…or perhaps I was too frightened to “let myself go” for fear of never recovering.)

It’s so easy to enter the realm of complicated or unresolved grief with its various psychiatric syndromes (such as prolonged clinical depression) and psychosomatic syndromes (such as anxiety attacks), if you have inadequate social support or a fear of or resistance to mourning.

Adjusting to a life without Cindy took time—an awful lot of time! I had to find new ways to focus my energy and I had to restructure my social network.

With gentle urging I acknowledged my heartache by talking about what had happened to Cindy, to me and to my family (sometimes repeatedly). I expressed my feelings (Oh, what a struggle that was at first). And by remembering, I mourned.

When I was stuck I answered the following questions:

• “What do you wish you could have said to her?”
• “What do you miss the most?”
• “Where were you and what were you doing when you heard the news?”
• “What was she like?”
• “What kind of a person was she?”
• “What is the hardest thing for you?”

Eventually the bitter sadness of loss transformed into a sweet sadness or nostalgia and I was able to love again and reach out to others, touching their lives and letting them know they are not alone in loss.

Melanie Hack
Author of Who Killed My Sister, My Friend
Read an excerpt now
The unsolved mystery of the death of Cindy James