Serial Griever: Fresh Starts

Welcome to my column, my new little corner of The Saint where I will be exploring the experience of students in St Andrews touched by grief and loss. Last February, I lost my mum and joined the very small circle of motherless daughters. This has been, and will continue to be, a kilter-change in my sense of self and the world around me.

In an attempt to create a community amongst ourselves, this column will always be a space for others to get involved, so please reach out if you want to share your stories! For now, it is my own, but in time I hope it will become ours.

As weeks and issues of The Saint trickle past, I will explore some different areas of my life that have changed, opinions I no longer hold and new ones I now hold close. I promise not to make this a tough read. There is hope here and there, I can root it out for us both. And hopefully, there is a lesson in here for me, you, and the next reader.

Coming back to St Andrews, I am now in my fourth and final year. This will be the first return to university that does not start with a mother’s deep farewell hug which we all know is irreplaceable. I delayed packing until the very last minute, a rookie error which kept me locked in blissful denial during the beginning of September when time started to hold meaning again and my Outlook notifications started to get all too regular.

I still haven’t fully unpacked, and I probably won’t get around to it. Pictures and posters are strewn across my desk, waiting to belong on a wall or in a book. I should probably try and force myself to fully unpack and set up my room — take the healthy route, Tasha! But this column is not an advice column, so I won’t. It suits me just now to keep things half-involved, half-here. Half of me will always be elsewhere and that’s OK.

I blinked, and now it’s October. ‘Hold On Little Big Girl’ by Anais Mitchell loops through my old Apple headphones. I don’t believe in the idea of ‘fresh starts’ anymore, and I don’t really think I need to.

Illustration by Aoife White