‘Once you have had your month’s mind, you are no longer entitled to be sad or grieve in any way’
There are unspoken rules about how much grief you are entitled to when someone dies, writes Jarlath Regan, who was floored by the level of devastation he felt at the death of his uncle Lewis
Very recently I was blindsided by grief when I lost my uncle Lewis. He was an incredible man, beloved by virtually everyone he came into contact with. A doctor, a poet, a philosopher, a raconteur and someone with a deep well of kindness in him. I still get messages from people saying, “I had no idea you were related to Lewis”, telling how much they miss him and loved their time with him. This created stories everywhere he went. If I drop his name in any town he did a locum in, they know him and have a tale to tell.
But here’s the thing. I didn’t spend every summer with him, and I didn’t know him as well as others. Yet when he suddenly died, it ran me over like a train. What was worst about it was that because I didn’t know him as well as others, I didn’t feel entitled to feel grief. That’s a hard thing to explain, but I now know that it’s common. We all have rules in our heads about who should feel sad over the death of a person. These arbitrary and sometimes very stringent categories for the acceptable level of hurt a person should feel depending on their proximity to the deceased. Grief doesn’t work like that.
So, I walked around pummelling myself. I couldn’t talk about it. I couldn’t even think about it or in my head I felt a sneering voice going, “Oh, would you look at your man.” That voice is the same one that often tuts something about how I needed to get over myself. I worked through it. I got help. And now I realise others have been where I was too but still, we aren’t talking about it. Rankin approached me to be part of the Royal London project and I jumped at the chance, because while I make my living talking about everything and anything, the discussion of grief and loss is still nearly off limits with most Irish people. I feel like so much great change has come about through opening up the doors to things we were previously told to keep quiet about, and this could be one of those things too. It also provided a chance to talk about and commemorate someone special to me.
I couldn’t believe how perfect a chance this was to talk about this
really common, unspoken problem and also, I knew Lewis would love it too. I spoke at length to his eldest son and my close friend, Dr Joseph Regan, in Berlin about it and he agreed. Lewis loved to talk more than maybe anyone I have ever met in my life. He loved all things spiritual, but most of all he treasured memories. He carved his words into poems that are stunning little pieces of linguistic crystal reflecting the past from multiple angles. His book, Poems To Goodbye Meadows, is still available online and it is just beautiful.
I have lost important people to me over the years, but still to this day I struggle with speaking about these losses. And that’s not because I fear that I’ll get low if I do. That’s a part of it, but a big part of it is still bundled up in the rules. This code that isn’t written down anywhere, this culture or expectation that once you’ve had your month’s mind, you are no longer entitled to be sad, feel low or grieve in any way. I’m getting better at being aware of it and understanding where it comes from, but I’m still working on calling it in the moment.
It is impossible not to be moved by or, dare I say it, changed by the exhibition. I am immensely proud to be part of it and to have brought my perspective to it, in the hope that it will help others. What Rankin has created is a truly beautiful examination of loss, grief and our ability to interact with it. Whatever your experience of grief, one or more of the stories in the exhibition will speak to you. I was particularly moved by Doreen and Stuart Lawrence, the mother and brother of Stephen Lawrence. You may remember that Stephen was murdered during a racist attack when he was just 18. They gave a perspective on how confusing and difficult it can be to feel any sort of joy after such a death. For them, the loss was so great, so vicious and senseless that they struggled to know if it was disrespectful to Stephen’s memory to smile and laugh at any point afterwards. In so many ways, the exhibition makes us face our fear of talking about loss and understand that it takes no specific form, follows no specific timelines and is completely unique to all of us. Jarlath’s story is one of several from a host of well-known faces in Ireland and the UK participating in Royal London’s ‘Lost for Words’ digital exhibition, in partnership with renowned photographer Rankin, see lostforwords.royallondon.com Jarlath Regan hosts the An Irishman Abroad podcast, available to listen to on Apple Podcasts
‘What Rankin has created is a truly beautiful examination of loss, grief and our ability to interact with it. Whatever your experience of grief, one or more of the stories in the exhibition will speak to you’