What I’ve learned of life and loss.

Words by Kelly Müller.

Tomorrow marks the second December without my forever friend. Her favourite month of the year, December is Michele’s birthday month, the month she got engaged, Christmas and a time where she was surrounded by loved ones, eating good food and drinking good drinks.

Tomorrow marks the second December I have come to dread, if only for a moment. I grieve for the time I won’t have with Michele and the memories she won’t be part of. I grieve for every December we’ve had together before and every December I shared in her joy.

But then I remember, life is for living. She has taught me that. And I know she will be watching and celebrating and toasting to us, from a nice glass of course.

So for today, I’m letting myself sit in contemplation. About life and loss. About how Michele’s death has changed me.

There was nothing that could have prepared me for the sudden, tragic and too-young-to-die death of my friend and I will never forget the moment I got the news.

Just weeks earlier, in December, this human being, this effervescent force had wrapped her arms around me and laughed as I ruined far too many photos of the two of us due to my lack of “knowing my angles”. I had sent her photos of my kids from the beach just the night before she died and she replied that she was lucky to call us her family. I told her that we loved her.

 After Michele’s death, I looked for her everywhere. I saw her in sunrises, in sunsets. I found meaning in moths and butterflies, birds, rainbows and the rain. It may have been a story I was telling myself but it simply didn’t matter - believing that her energy wasn’t gone, but had simply transformed was helping me through each day.

Until it wasn’t. Because there were days I couldn’t find her, when I couldn’t feel her and that reality was something I didn’t want to experience - a world without her in it.

But that’s the thing with grief, it is far from linear and by the time I realised I was consumed by it, every part of me was broken.

I was exhausted, irritable. My mind was hazy and I moved in autopilot. I had headaches, I had heartache. I couldn’t concentrate. I lacked motivation. I didn’t feel happy. I cried, loudly and often.

And I knew I needed help.

I saw a healer. A psychologist. I slept. I ran. I wrote. I found solace on the shoulders of my husband, of my neighbours. I came to understand that grief is very different to sadness. I learned to say no to more than I said yes to. I set boundaries. I prioritised the things that mattered most.

Grief has taught me that I can’t always do everything I want to do and I can’t help everyone I want to help. I have learned that my grief isn’t something that will go away over time, it’s something I’ve had to grow with and it’s slowly becoming a smaller part of my everyday instead of being the biggest.

Michele inspired me in life but the most profound lessons she has taught me have sadly, been in death. Losing her has made me realise how easily we take life for granted. How quickly we get frustrated with what we don’t have, how we wish away the current years and hope for something better or different. How little we sit back and appreciate what an absolute privilege it is to be alive.

In every moment of every day there is an opportunity for joy, for compassion, for connection. Life is not guaranteed, and it wasn’t until I lost one of the most important people in my life that I could see that. She has shown me the fragility of life firsthand.

And because of loss, over the past two years, the message has become clear. Direct. Instructive.

“You need to live.” 

So, I made a promise to her, and more importantly, to myself. I promised to live. That I wouldn’t sit in the what ifs or whys. I wouldn’t waste energy on what I couldn’t change. That I would make time for myself. I promised that I would look for moments of happiness in every day. That I would acknowledge the blessings I have and that I would fully feel it all, the good and the bad. And since making that promise, I think I’ve managed to honour it. Of course, that doesn’t mean I’m happy all the time, it just means I don’t stay in the sadness for too long.

This past year especially has been about learning to live in this new way. The first year following Michele’s death I was overcome with so much heartache but this year, I’ve tried to channel that into gratitude. Of the times I did have with her. Of the memories we created together. Of the business, the family and the life I have made with my husband, something she was so proud of. Of my body working hard for me. The food I am able to fuel myself with and the home I have to live in.

Tomorrow marks the second December without my forever friend. And even though it is a month that will be tinged with what will no longer be, December, and my beautiful friend, will always be reason to celebrate.