Grief
I'm not sure what to do. Am I just supposed to keep quiet and forget. Or not talk about her ? My mom doesnt want to talk about her since it makes her too sad. I recently lost my cousin this month. She came back in our lives after lost contact a couple of months ago. She became a constant in our lives these past 7 months. She came back worried about my mother and her ongoing health issues. We called her every day. We saw each other 2 or maybe 3 times a week. The last time we spoke she was sad. Next day we called and no answer. We were a bit worried. Next day we were called because other family couldn't get in contact with her. My sister and the daughter of the cousin decided to break in. They found her. At her funeral she didn't look like herself. I think that and with our last conversation its hard to accept she's really gone. But now when she is mentioned people only want to speculate about her cause of passing. If it was an accident or not. Now my mom doesn't want to talk about her anymore because its too sad. This is my first time experiencing grief. I'm not sure how do I go on from here? Sometimes I'm thinking about it too much that my anxiety is all over the place. My ptsd that I've had for a long time is at a high. Where do I go from here? The only one I can talk to is my therapist. I almost feel this sense of guilt for not having myself together like everyone else.
@LavenderDreams1
I’m really glad you shared this. What you’re describing sounds incredibly painful, and your reaction makes a lot of sense. Losing someone is hard enough but losing your cousin after you just reconnected, after she became a daily, meaningful part of your life, can feel especially cruel and unfair. There wasn’t time to ease into that bond again before it was taken away, and that can make the loss feel unreal and unfinished.
It also sounds really frustrating and hurtful to hear people speculate about how she passed. When that happens, it can feel like her life and your relationship with her get overshadowed by guesses and theories. The truth is, the details don’t change the one thing that matters most: she’s gone, and she mattered. Turning her death into speculation can feel like it strips away the dignity of your grief, and it’s understandable that this would be upsetting.
Everyone around you is grieving too, just in very different ways. Your mom pulling away from talking about her doesn’t mean your cousin mattered less—it likely means the pain feels too overwhelming for her right now. That can feel lonely and unfair when you need to talk. It’s okay to notice that hurt without judging yourself or her.
Your anxiety and PTSD flaring up also make sense. Grief can shake our sense of safety and stability, especially when there’s trauma already there. This doesn’t mean you’re doing anything wrong—it means your system is responding to a real loss. And please know this: no one truly has it all together. Some people cry, some people go quiet, some people distract themselves, and some people hold it in until it leaks out later. Not having it together doesn’t mean you’re failing at grief; it means you’re human.
I’m really glad you have a therapist you can talk to. That’s a strong and important support. Has your therapist suggested anything that’s helped even a little—like grounding tools, ways to honor your cousin privately, or ways to manage the anxiety spikes? Some people also find grief support groups helpful, especially when family can’t talk yet. Hearing others say “me too” can be surprisingly grounding.
You don’t have to rush this or “fix” how you’re feeling. Grief isn’t something you get over; it’s something you learn to carry, slowly, in your own way. You’re not weak for struggling, and you’re not alone in this, even if it feels that way right now. 💛
Thank you for your response. My therapist hasn't recommended any grief groups but maybe I should ask. It's been very hard. It happened in the beginning of this month. I'm not sure how to react around my family. I'm not close to my family at all. The next day her house became a party house. Also a search for her hidden savings. It felt so disgusting. So invasive having people dig through her things. I can't even ask for some of the ashes that were promised to me because I dont want to come off as insistent on something like that. It would be nice to have her with me.
@LavenderDreams1
I’m really glad you replied, and I’m so sorry you’re having to carry this on top of the loss itself. Since it sounds like you don’t have much emotional safety within your family right now, it really could be a good idea to ask your therapist about grief support groups. Not because you’re doing anything “wrong,” but because you deserve a place where your grief isn’t minimized, rushed, or made uncomfortable.
A month is not a long time. This loss is still very fresh, especially given how close you became again so recently. Your nervous system hasn’t even had time to catch its breath yet, so if everything still feels raw, confusing, or overwhelming—that’s not a failure on your part. That’s grief.
What you described about her house… that’s honestly heartbreaking and deeply upsetting. Turning her death into a party space or treating her belongings like something to search through for personal gain would feel disgusting to many people. Your reaction makes complete sense. It is invasive. It is wrong. And it’s understandable that witnessing that behavior would add another layer of pain and anger on top of your grief.
It also makes so much sense that you’re hesitant to ask for some of her ashes, especially given how others are acting. Wanting to avoid conflict or being perceived as “insistent” doesn’t mean you don’t care—it means you’re trying to protect yourself in a situation that already feels unsafe. And at the same time, wanting to have her with you in some tangible way is incredibly human. You’re not asking for too much. Wanting a piece of her doesn’t make you selfish; it reflects love, attachment, and longing. You deserve to have something that helps you feel close to her.
If asking for the ashes feels like too much right now, I wonder if there are other ways you might keep her close in the meantime. Do you have any photos, messages, or small memories—something you could hold onto privately, just for you? Even creating a small space or ritual in her honor can sometimes help when everything else feels out of control.
It sounds like what you’re really missing is her; her presence, the connection you rebuilt, the feeling of closeness that was suddenly taken away. That ache is so real. You’re not wrong for wanting to feel near her again, in whatever way you can.
You don’t have to navigate this perfectly. You’re doing the best you can in a situation that is genuinely painful and unfair. I’m really glad you’re talking about it here and I’m really glad you have a therapist too. You’re not alone in this, even if it feels that way right now. 💛
I really wish I had more of her. My mom did set her picture on our dining room table. One of her daughter's was nice enough to give my mom this saint statue my cousin used to have near her bed. My cousin used to mention how she'd pray by that statue every day. It's been about 3 weeks since she passed. Its a conflicting feeling I mean today her daughter came by to pick up some gifts my cousin had me order for Christmas. I think back to my last conversation with her and we only hung up with each other because me and my mom were bickering and she said she didn't want us to fight so she'd call us the next day. She texted my phone saying thank you for talking with her. Its hard to hear the details from my sister. Two days ago when I spoke with my sister, I think I can confirm me and my mom were the last to speak to her. If only we hadn't bickered, she would've kept talking to us on the phone.
@LavenderDreams1
I’m really glad you have her photo and that statue. Both of those sound like meaningful connections to who she was, not just reminders of the loss. The statue especially feels significant; knowing she prayed there every day gives it a sense of continuity, like a quiet thread between her life and your memories of her. It’s not about pretending she’s there, but about staying connected to what mattered to her and what you shared. That kind of connection can be very comforting, even when it’s bittersweet.
Three weeks is still so early, and it makes complete sense that everything feels conflicting. Grief doesn’t move in a straight line, and moments like Christmas gifts showing up can feel almost surreal. It’s such a painful contrast... receiving things she chose for you when what you really want is her, alive, laughing, giving them to you herself. That juxtaposition alone can stir up a lot of emotion.
It’s also very human to replay the last conversation and wish it had gone differently. Almost everyone who loses someone does this in some form. Wanting just one more minute of her voice, one more uninterrupted moment; that ache comes from love, not from failure. What stands out to me is that your last interaction still held care: she wanted peace, she said she’d call, and she thanked you for talking with her. Those are not the words of someone leaving on bad terms. They’re words of connection.
I want to say this gently, because it’s important: the bickering did not cause this. Our brains reach for reasons because uncertainty is unbearable, but you and your mom being the last to speak with her doesn’t mean you did anything wrong. You didn’t deny her love; you gave it. You were there. That matters.
If it feels okay to think about, do you happen to have any recordings of her—voicemails, videos, even short clips where you can hear her voice? Some people find that incredibly grounding. When my grandfather passed, I watched a one-minute clip of him over and over... not to torture myself, but because hearing his voice reminded me, he was real, that our relationship was real.
You’re holding so much tenderness and grief at the same time. Nothing about how you’re feeling is wrong or excessive. You loved her, you miss her, and you’re trying to make sense of a loss that doesn’t make sense yet. I’m really glad you’re sharing this—you don’t have to carry it alone. 💛
I don't speak English very well, but please listen to me. You're not a bad person just because you can't control your emotions or your mental state. You need to grieve or cry to find relief after a long period of time. I know it's difficult for you and your family. But everyone dies; no one is immortal. Hug 🦋🤍
