Hello...
My name is Shuma and I am the Founder of Spoken Grief.
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When the world came to a halt in 2020, I was forced to stop and be still.
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In that stillness, my grief resurfaced. It was unbearable and overwhelming, again.
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I was in the same position I found myself in 2015 when my mum died - lost and confused. This time, I couldn't runaway from my feelings by keeping myself busy. I was forced to unpack my grief and therefore created an outlet for myself on Instagram. Fast forward years later, it's a grief community to thousands of people around the world.
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Spoken Grief is a safe space for grievers and welcomes those supporting bereaved people as it shares grief content and resources to raise grief awareness.
The journey that led me here...
Trigger warning: cancer, death
2013
2014
2015
Present
Mum was diagnosed with Triple Negative Breast Cancer. She started chemotherapy in the summer.
By the end of the year she had radiotherapy and a mastectomy too.
Mum was given the all clear... she was in remission. Having undergone numerous treatment, she wanted a different environment, so she left to visit her motherland, Bangladesh.
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In the summer, an exciting opportunity presented itself, I left the UK for a job overseas. If I had learnt anything since mum's diagnosis, it was that life is too short to be doing things that don't excite us.
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At the end of the year, the day mum landed in the UK, my dad suffered a major stroke. I got on the first plane back to the UK to be with my family. Roles reversed, mum was caring for dad until he made a full recovery. I returned to my job abroad.
Mum experienced headaches, dizziness and vomiting. The GP brushed it off as an ear infection by prescribing her antibiotics. By May 2015, we were mortified to hear she had up to 12 lesions in her brain and tumours surrounding her stomach and lungs. They gave her up to 3 months to live.
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I returned to the UK to help look after mum and spend all the time I could with her. I watched her deteriorate and detach herself from the world. Even though she was alive, cancer stole the version of her that I knew.
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Mum turned 55 in the last few weeks of her life. Although those weeks were a rollercoaster, I'm thankful we managed to bring her home one last time.
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It is at home where she passed away. I held her hand like a child until the very end. I will never forget the moment my mum left this world.
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I didn't know it then, but everything was going to change.
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Life as a griever continues. Everyday is different and nothing is what it once was, including myself.
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