The grief that comes with shock

In the early days, many bereaved people describe a strange flat, dreamlike state — as though it can't really have happened. For many, this is the nervous system protecting you. It is doing what it is built to do. It is not denial.

For many people, the reality arrives in waves, weeks or months later, when the funeral is over and the people have gone home. That can be normal too.

If only I'd been there. If only I'd called. If only I'd known. If only I'd driven instead. For many, the replays come. They can be part of how the mind tries to make sense of something that doesn't make sense.

Almost nothing about a sudden death turns out, on close inspection, to be your fault. If it helps, a counsellor experienced in sudden bereavement can sit with the if-onlys without trying to argue you out of them. That is its own kind of help.

Sudden loss can bring anger that surprises people — at fate, at God, at the person who died, at the driver, at the system, at strangers, at yourself. For many, anger is part of grief. It does not need to be explained, and it does not need to be apologised for.

Many bereaved-by-sudden-death people carry an aching wish that they had been able to say goodbye. Some find quiet ways to do it after the fact: a letter never sent, a place visited, a candle lit, a long conversation out loud at their grave. These are not silly. For many, they are how love finishes a sentence that was cut off.

For many people, sudden bereavement — especially by suicide, accident, homicide or overdose — is its own kind of grief, and there are services in Australia that specialise in exactly this. You don't have to use a generic grief service.