People who haven't been through grief often believe that grief is a linear process. They may have heard of the Kübler-Ross grief model or similar, which look at stages of grief, and thin that this is how it works.

A while after Tim died, a dear friend bought me a Kintsugi kit, complete with a broken bowl. Kintsugi, which translates as 'golden repair', is the Japanese art of repairing broken pottery with a glue dusted with or mixed with powdered gold. Japanese aesthetics has a perspective called wabi-sabi, which appreciates beauty that is "imperfect, impermanent, and incomplete".

Those of us who grieve often try to hide our sadness, our brokenness, our emotional and mental scars. Kintsugi as a grief model suggests that we show our scars and treat them as part of us and part of our stories. Living with or alongside our grief, moving forward but not moving on, it's what makes us who we are.

Kintsugi "symbolises the truth that repair requires transformation, that the pristine is less beautiful than the broken—and that the shape of us is impossible to see until its fractured, until a wound, like a crack, runs its length."

I described it in a blog as "a brave with the stitches showing and the glue not quite set. It's a broken and mended brave… a brave that sees the beauty in the flaws. And while it's a kind of brave that doesn't always withstand a puff of wind, I'm hoping it might be the kind that will stand up to a storm."

​It took me three and a half years to make the bowl, and I made it to celebrate some major steps in my life after Tim. And I love it. 

Cherie Altea, an artist based in Singapore, created an image of a bookshelf to illustrate her thoughts on grief. 

In her own words:
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"Imagine that you are this bookshelf and grief were this thick, heavy and permanent book sitting in it.
 
Over time, that book doesn’t change in shape or size. It just stays there and becomes a part of you. As the days and years pass, your library grows around it as everything you add to the shelf becomes another chapter and dimension in your life. The grief, even if you choose to gloss over it, is an indelible presence juxtaposed with the growing collection of things.
 
The spine might fade in the sunlight, yellowing pages will fall out, and its cover will definitely gather dust, but our grief is a book whose pages we can flip through and go back to when we feel compelled to. Without changing in weight, significance or meaning, it shall always and simply be another facet of our existence and one of many stories in our constantly changing life."

Grief can be like a backpack full of rocks. It's heavy, hard to carry, and weighs us down. Sometimes it feels like we can't keep carrying it. But we know can't just put it down. However, over time, we become stronger, develop muscles that help us to cope, to continue. While we still have days that we struggle, we find people, like the Widowed and Young groups, who can help us to carry the weight of this invisible backpack. 

 Number and letter sequences
Sequences of numbers or letters can help to control anxiety.

• Counting to a hundred forwards or backwards, or counting down from a hundred in twos or threes
• Going through the alphabet and naming a car, an animal, a food, or a place that begins with each lette
  

​These give your brain enough to do to distract you but aren't so hard that they just stress you again. 

Describing things
Looking at a photo, advert, newspaper front page or a scene and describing it to yourself as if it was to another person is another way to distract yourself:

"There are two sparrows on the path. They are pecking at some seeds. Their feathers are buff and chestnut and grey. The cup of tea in my hands is warm, it makes a sound in my mouth like the A below middle C. There are people talking at the next table. I can't hear what they are saying but they look happy. The woman is wearing a brown coat and has curly white hair."

Smells and tastes
A friend and fellow widow carries cinnamon oil in her handbag. It's a smell that is strong and comforting, but that carries no specific memories or bad associations. When she feels stressed or anxious, she smells the oil, and it helps to ground her, and pull her back into 'now'. Eating something spicy or sour can work in a similar way, as can a familiar and well-loved scent. 

Objects
Another friend and fellow widow has a pebble that fits perfectly into the palm of her hand. When she is feeling calm, connected and grounded, she holds the pebble in her hand and luxuriates in how she is feeling. When she feels disconnected or dissociated, she holds the pebble and it anchors her back to feeling safe.

Sounds and images

• Sing a specific song or listen to a particular piece of music 
• Draw or doodle to divert your attention

Trigger differentiators
​Trigger differentiators bring us back into the 'here & now', and away from what happened 'then & there', and can really help with flashbacks and triggers, and diffuses the mental, emotional and physical response.

• Today is Monday afternoon - then it was a Saturday morning
• I am in my living room - before I was in the bedroom
• It's light now - then it was dark
• It's January now - it happened in February
• It's sunny today - then it was snowing

Breathing
Slow breathing can help us to control emotions. There are a whole host of different techniques – find the one that work best for you, and repeat as often as you need to.

• 7/11 breathing – breathe in for a count of seven, and breath out more slowly, to a count of eleven
• Box or four-square breathing – breathe in for a count of four, hold for a count of four, breathe out for a count of four and hold for a count of four
• Alternate nostril breathing – block your left nostril, and inhale and exhale through your right nostril, then block your right nostril, and inhale and exhale through your left nostril
• 4-7-8 breathing – breathe in through your nose for a count of four, hold your breath for a count of seven, and then breathe out through your mouth for a count of eight
• Pursed lip breathing – breathe in through your nose for two seconds, pucker your lips as if you are about to whistle, and exhale through your mouth for four seconds
• Five finger breathing – put your hand out in front of you, with your fingers spread apart. Breathe in as you trace the outside of your thumb with the first finger of your other hand. Breathe out as you trace down the inside of your thumb, and continue with your remaining fingers.

 

Christmas can be hard for some people. This is written for The Widows' Handbook, but there are a lot of reasons why people don't want to be forced to be jolly at Christmas. ​

​Don't push people who don't want to be part of the Christmas spirit - people who have been bereaved, particularly if they were bereaved during the Festive season, don't always want to be part of the jollities.
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• Don't tell them they are a 'stick in the mud' when they don't want to sign up to Secret Santa.
• Don't call them a killjoy when they don't want to wear a Christmas jumper.
• Don't get at them if they don't want to come to a Christmas party.
• Don't make a fuss if they don't put up any decorations.
• Don't tell them to 'just get on with Christmas'.

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Invite people who struggle with Christmas along to things, and if they say no, accept  the answer. Tell them the offer remains open if they change their minds. Accept that they might say yes, and then change their minds. And then give them peace and space.
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Remember that if you invite grieving people, you are inviting their grief too - it's part of who they are. 

Above everything, be kind.

The darkness of winter is tough, especially for widows living alone. Here are a few hints and tips for making the winter feel more comfortable. ​​

• If you go out, have lamps and radios on timers so there is light and sound when you get in. You can use plug socket timers, or smart light bulbs and sockets linked to your phone.
• Smart heating systems such as Hive mean that you can make sure the heating is on when you get in. Hive can also turn the lights on for you.
• Keep moving – exercise warms you up and can pick up your mood.
• Hot water bottles are old school but comforting.
• Have a lovely snug blanket on the sofa, and buy yourself a cosy dressing gown and pair of pyjamas or onesie. 
• Draughtproof everything you can.
• Candles or bio-ethanol burners make rooms feel cosier.
• Fairy lights aren't just for Christmas - LED ones indoors and solar ones outdoors give an extra glow.
• A fleecy electric over-blanket means you can be snug, even when the rest of the house isn't.
• Stock up on cold and flu remedies just in case, from Vick's to Lemsip (other lemon drinks are available) and from paracetamol to honey and lemon.

Someone once said to me to think of this time of year being when the seeds are in the ground waiting for spring. This helps me feel a bit more positive about the dark mornings sometimes.
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Seasonal affective disorder
​Many people get affected by changes in the seasons, but if the winter blues are lasting a long time and really affecting your life, you might have winter seasonal affective disorder (SAD). This is a low mood that gets worse in the winter. According to the NHS, symptoms of SAD (sometimes called winter depression) include:

• a persistent low mood
• a loss of pleasure or interest in normal everyday activities
• irritability
• feelings of despair, guilt and worthlessness
• feeling lethargic (lacking in energy) and sleepy during the day
• sleeping for longer than normal and finding it hard to get up in the morning
• craving carbohydrates and gaining weight.

Our sleep patterns, appetite, mood and activity are linked to levels of light, and for some people the levels of light in the winter just aren't enough. Lower levels of light can also affect our sleep-wake cycles.
There a few things that might help:

• Spend as much time in natural daylight as you can
• Take regular exercise, outdoors and in daylight if possible
• Plan ahead – stock up on things, such as ready meals, if you know you won't have the energy to cook
• Create a self-care box, with favourite books or films, things to pamper yourself with, a cosy wrap or blanket
• Rest when you need to
• Try light therapy – change some of your lightbulbs for brighter ones (the higher the lux the brighter the light), get a light box or SAD lamp, or try a sunrise alarm clock

Vitamin D may or may not help SAD, but the NHS recommends that people in the UK should consider taking a daily vitamin D supplement during the autumn and winter.
If SAD is really affecting your life, talk to your GP. For some people, cognitive behavioural therapy, counselling, psychotherapy or antidepressants can help.

The reason that this model doesn't really work for bereavement is that it wasn't actually intended to be about the grief of losing someone we love. Swiss-American psychiatrist Elisabeth Kübler-Ross' created the model to help terminally ill people to come to term with their own illness and death. David Kessler, her co-author, has worked with her to create models for people who are grieving. He says that there is no typical loss, and not everyone goes through all of the stages, or in any particular order.

​Theresa Rando's model of mourning breaks the process into six parts, within three phases, and these are part of the process of moving through grief. Each begins with the letter R. To a certain degree, these overlap with Worden's four tasks.

Avoidance phase
In early grief we struggle to understand what has happened, and accept it as real. We avoid the reality. In this model we need to recognise what has happened to us.

1.       Recognise the loss
This is the step of acknowledging and understanding the death, and accepting its reality. This also includes understanding the cause of the loss, which can be difficult for people whose partners were killed in accidents, were murdered, or died by suicide.

Confrontation phase
In the confrontation phase we process what we are going through.

2.       React to the separation
This step is about feeling all the emotions that are part of grief and loss – anger, pain, sadness, sorrow, and all the other things we go through – and accepting them. Reacting to them. Working through them. Sometimes we might have to give yourself permission to feel all of these things. It's also about accepting the secondary losses – things like the future we planned, the places we were going to go, the growing old together we had expected.

3.       Recollect and re-experience the person and the relationship
When things begin to feel less raw, we can begin to remember the people we lost. It took a while after Tim died for me to even think about the things we'd done together, the things we'd loved doing together.

4.       Relinquish attachments to the old life
This sounds harsh but I don't think it's meant to be. It's not about moving on or forgetting or leaving behind. It's about working through what has happened, and about accepting how it has changed our past, our present and our future.

Accommodation phase
The accomodation phase is about creating a new meaning and a new life, without forgetting the old.
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5.       Readjust and move into the new world
The readjustment stage talks about accepting who we are now and making a new identity for ourselves, while we still remember the person we lost.

6.       Reinvest
The first big decision I made after Tim died was to do a part-time MA. For me this was reinvesting in myself, and in a future that I hadn't expected or planned for but that I wanted to try. 

In his book Grief Counseling and Grief Therapy, William Worden suggested that there are four tasks of mourning that must be carried out for "the process of mourning to be completed" and life to get back on balance. While I like aspects of this model, I disagree that we ever complete the process of mourning, and the idea of tasks to be ticked off feels like a lot of additional pressure.
The tasks are:

1.       Accept the reality of the loss
Death, especially a sudden death, leaves us reeling. We can't believe that they are gone. Accepting the reality isn't just knowing the truth of the bereavement, it's understanding that everything has changed. For me, the funeral was an important part of this.

2.       Work through the pain of grief
Grief is different for everyone. We move from a raw, savage pain to a deeper, more visceral grief, which then shifts to something we can survive with. The time this takes is also different for everyone – weeks, months, even years. A wonderful friend of mine talks about 'sitting in' the waves of grief and letting them wash over you – this helped me to process the pain.

3.       Adjust to an environment where the person is missing
For some time after Tim died, I would turn around and expect to see him, especially when the door downstairs made a characteristic little rattle. Adjusting to the environment where they are not here isn't just missing their physical presence. It's missing their role in your life. Losing a partner, particularly losing a partner young, takes away the past we shared with them, the present we shared with them, and the future we hoped to share with them.
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4.       Find an enduring connection with the person who has gone while embarking on a new life
However much our lives change post loss, we keep the people we lose as part of us. This is why I don't talk about moving on, I talk about moving forward (and this amazing talk by Laura McInerny explains more). Keeping a connection with Tim includes talking about him, having his photo up, and raising a glass to him on his birthday, our wedding anniversary and the anniversary of the day he died.