Navigating the Path to Grief Recovery: A Personal Journey

On 8th July 2016, I dropped my middle and only daughter, Ciara, at the Lidl car park in Kilkenny. She was catching the concert bus to see Kodaline at Marley Park. I never imagined that the last glimpse of her running after the car, smiling, would become etched in my memory as the final moment I would see her alive. The last words she spoke to me, ‘I need some money to go to Pegasus,’ remain a bittersweet echo in my mind.

Later that night, John and I received a phone call from her friend. Ciara had collapsed at the concert. That was the day our lives changed forever. Grief doesn’t merely take away the person you loved the most; it also strips away pieces of who you are. I couldn’t breathe without feeling unbearable pain. I couldn’t think clearly. A constant white noise consumed my mind. The joy of life and my ability to empathise were stolen away.

I had encountered grief before. My sister passed away when I was 17, and my father, to whom I was very close, died in 2012. But the anguish of losing Ciara was unparalleled. In university, I studied Elisabeth Kübler-Ross’s five stages of grief. Still, nothing prepared me for the complexity of emotions, including the madness and chaos that comes with losing a child.

The Stages of Grief Through My Experience

The Kübler-Ross model outlines five stages: denial, anger, bargaining, depression, and acceptance. While these stages offer a framework, my journey through grief was far from linear.

1. Denial

In those early days, denial protected me from the overwhelming reality of Ciara’s death. It felt unreal, like I might wake up and find it was all a terrible dream. I went through the motions of life, almost numb, unable to fully grasp that my daughter was gone.

2. Anger

Anger surged through me as I grappled with questions that had no answers. Why Ciara? Why us? I was angry at the world, life’s randomness, and even myself for not hugging her before she left for the concert. This stage was all-consuming but also an energy source when everything else felt bleak.

3. Bargaining

‘If only I had hugged her. If only she hadn’t gone to the concert.’ My mind replayed endless scenarios where the outcome could have been different. I made silent bargains with God or fate, as if doing so could reverse the tragedy.

4. Depression

The weight of Ciara’s absence settled heavily on me. I lost all sense of who I was. Writing, something I had cherished since 2013 when Ciara encouraged me to pursue it, seemed impossible. Reading even a single sentence felt insurmountable. The world had colour for others, but mine was drained of joy.

5. Acceptance

Acceptance doesn’t mean the pain is gone. It means finding a way to live with it. Writing became a lifeline. My grief counsellor encouraged me to write again, so I started a ‘Dear Ciara Diary’. At first, it was a way to pour out my heartbreak, but gradually, it became a space to share memories and updates about her brothers and dad. Writing helped me reconnect with myself.

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The Other Facets of Grief

The stages of grief don’t encompass the entirety of the experience. Grief brings loneliness and guilt. Watching others celebrate milestones their children achieve felt isolating. While I was happy for them, I couldn’t escape the sense of suspension, as though my life had halted when Ciara’s did.

Grief doesn’t end; it evolves. The searing pain has faded into a constant ache. Flashbacks and the madness have subsided, but Ciara is with me daily. Her presence is in my first waking thought and in everything I do. I still find it hard to talk about her openly, but I’m learning to carry her memory with love rather than pain.

For anyone navigating grief, know there is no right way or prescribed timeline. The Kübler-Ross stages offer guidance, but your journey will be your own. Lean on what keeps you going—for me, it was my family and writing. Ciara wouldn’t have wanted me to stop living, and slowly, I’m finding ways to live for both of us.