Closure is a funny thing. And I’m not referring to it’s ability to tell a winning joke either.

I remember leading up to Uncle Murrays funeral, everyone was saying “At least you’ll get closure after the funeral” or “At least you’ll begin to heal” and all those other sentiments.

Don’t get me wrong, death is hard, and knowing what to say to someone going through a death is pretty fucking hard too.

People grieve differently, and in the early stages of grief, emotions are all over the place. Well mine are at any rate.

I’ve already commented on my general style of coping – I was the rock, I tried to get things organised and set up. It was a transaction, a series of events that needed to occur.

So, as the funeral happened, we get autopsy results, we enroll Mia in school, I was waiting, ya know? Waiting to grieve and move on. Where was my closure?

Life just went on, and my life adjusted around it. It was assumed closure.

The past few months have been consumed with clearing Uncle Murray’s/Nan’s house, which I’ve written about before .

The house was successfully sold, and settled. However, it left me unsettled.

For a long time, over a year in fact, I couldn’t fucking wait for this house to be gone. It was a hassle I didn’t need. But it’s done now, ya know? The house is sold, possessions stored in boxes, boxes strewn throughout my house, and my relatives house.

And it made me really effing sad.

A lot has happened since Uncle Murray passed away,

• Mia started school
• Our house caught fire
• Work decided to be hectic and insane
• I cut off part of my finger, because I fail at showering.
• Trump / Brexit / Turnbull
• Mum had fun hospital times
• I had fun gallstone times
• Mia finished prep
• We sold the house

The world has kept spinning. For better or worse.

And as I sat there one night, in my car, listening to music and reflecting on life post Uncle Murray, on my own journey to “closure”, I asked myself a question.

“What closure did Uncle Murray get?”

As he sat there in hospital, knowing deep down that he wouldn’t get a miracle recovery, despite what people were telling him.

Did he give up?

Did he look back at his life and pinpoint mistakes? Remember the great times? Did he come to terms? What happened?

From his hospital bed, he scribbled in a notepad, messages, his final thoughts. One of his funeral songs, his desire to keep Mia and her dog Bryan together, a message of love to his god mother. The fact that he wanted Mia to have all of his sports trophies (hundreds of them).

It wasn’t in depth, but they were some of his final thoughts.

How can you come to terms with your own mortality by using an A7 notepad? Did it help him? maybe.

I pose a question to you then. Does grief driven closure exist? At what point in time do you get closure?

What even is closure in this situation?

I’ve accepted that my Uncle has passed. My regrets still remain. My anger still remains. I still randomly get upset and sad.

For me, I’m not sure closure exists. Not in this circumstance anyway. This isn’t a physical wound that can heal, this has fundamentally changed my entire life, in ways I probably don’t even realise yet.

I don’t want closure. Not for my Uncle. Not for any of the people who I know that have died. Their memory means more to me than that. Their lives changed mine.

Loss and love lasts far longer than one persons death. From every person I’ve known who has passed on, they’ve changed me. Focused me. Gave me something I want to be (or don’t want to be, in some cases).

Closure is continuance. It’s lessons learnt and lives touched. It’s ingrained.

Life reverberates far longer than one persons time on this earth.

So, my opinion? Don’t strive for closure. Aim to remember. Aim to cry and laugh and remember that person in all that you do. Dream for them.

Tan