In the face of grief, remembering that we all experience loss can help

When I board the plane, I'm envisioning a week full of hot springs, champagne and the usual antics that go hand-in-hand with overpriced getaways: raucous laughter, skinny-dipping and enough drinking to pickle a cucumber.

I didn't think I'd be gatecrashing one of the worst weeks of my friend's life.

I didn't think that our trip would be postponed by palliative care, or that our gossip surrounding Vanderpump Rules and Caroline Calloway's upcoming memoir would be replaced by talk of wills and whether we believed in an afterlife.

But as the greats say, shit happens.

I grab my friend's hand and we walk towards loss together

Both of us recently had a parent diagnosed with cancer. Different types, at different stages.

But then the mirror cracked.

Throughout the diagnosis process, my family didn't talk about worst-case scenarios. Yet, when I disembark the plane, I'm suddenly confronted with all the possibilities I have been avoiding, albeit through the lens of an alternative reality.

All the thoughts I've pushed to the side in lieu of positive thinking descend upon me, and without much guidance or grace, I grab my friend's hand and we walk towards the murky lands of loss together, her leading the way.

Who do I turn to when confronted by loss?

Do I believe in an afterlife? Of a sort, although not the cut-and-dried version that Dante depicted.

Reincarnation, the law of conservation of energy, nothing? It's all on the table, and I am both overwhelmed and underwhelmed by the possibilities.

Is stan culture the closest thing we have to organised belief in 2023? If the internet has replaced community in real life, do I turn to a Reddit thread? A TikTok hashtag? A (dare I say it) Facebook group? Does it exist in politics? Capitalism?

I have qualms surrounding organised religion, but the prospect of a shared belief system, not to mention a community that rallies in the hard times, is suddenly something I yearn for.

I want a framework; a belief that I can wrap my hands around and grasp, buoyed by the knowledge that I am not alone in these thoughts and feelings.

A millennial with an anxiety disorder

I've been lucky enough to dodge loss in close proximity, but as the reality of death creeps closer — hypothetical for me, tangible for her — I realise that I'm currently living in the before times.

It's a privileged position to be in. One that I don't think I'll ever fully appreciate, because if I'm being honest, I don't want to imagine the other side of it. I don't want to think about what my life will look like when this era ends.

I'll just deal with the reality when I'm forced to, like any good non-confrontational millennial with an anxiety disorder.

I'm still figuring out exactly what I believe in

The path that my friend and I walk now diverges; and as I let go of her hand to watch as she enters the next era, I hope that I can have even one-tenth of the grace and emotional intelligence she possesses in the face of this grief.

Whether I believe in an afterlife won't change this, but it may help me parse the turbulent waters of these feelings.

I'm still figuring out exactly what I believe in. I don't have the structured system of religion guiding these thoughts, but I know that I am not alone in having them, and I will not be alone in feeling them when the time comes.

If anything, there is a world of connection and understanding that I am not yet privy to, and strangely this brings me a sense of peace; knowing that there is more to come.

For now, that is enough.

Olivia O'Flynn is a writer and podcaster who works on Gadigal land. You can find her on Instagram.