grief grief recovery navigating grief poem by nalini tranquim Mar 04, 2022
Navigating Grief

Within three months of noticing that something was wrong, my brother was gone.


In a recent interview with my precious mama Mary Jalalabadi, we share openly about the loss of my brother and our grieving process. Adults often think that children are too young to understand grief or what’s going on around them. I was only three at the time and I was devastated by the loss of my brother.

In this interview, you will walk away with:


  1. Tools to equip you whilst navigating personal grief

  2. Tools to help others in your world who may be grieving.

Listen to the interview on my podcast ‘Under the Rug or watch the video below.


The Unwanted Guest

A Poem by Nalini Tranquim

The phone rings.

The call I've dreaded when mind wanders during sleepless, sweaty nights.

 A hush so deadly as the stark reality penetrates my core like a blade to it's servant.  I think it's called 'a state of shock', but right now in my numbness, I have no mind for electrocution. 

Thoughts so vividly haunting; no longer my inner soul but instead like an unsettled ghost they hover, menacingly till like an unexpected torrent; the blade is ripped from my fumbling flesh, a split second of total silence. No pain. Still no mind or is it a still mind till blooded feelings searingly gush forth; completely outside of my control.

A deep wail; a sound so unbearable to the human heart; bellows from my lungs sending blood curdling in those bearing witness to the unfolding of a truth I knew would eventually knock at my door. Compelled to answer; the door is left ajar and it cannot just be shut again. 

I have a new unwanted friend. She's here to stay and yet as soon as I met her, she had outstayed her welcome. Can I simply say "Pack your bags and go back to where you came from"? 

I'm afraid it's not that simple. 

My new unwanted friend is here to stay like an unwelcome step-sister, she rears her ugly head in waves; sending me from a place of peace and rest into a state/disposition of absolute/undiluted despair where I cannot even lift myself up off the floor as I cling to the cardigan he left behind at dinner.

"Why do bad things happen to good people"? you ask, clinging to the corner of your own cardigan that is privileged to be wrapped around your living, breathing body. 

Ah but alas I think you miss the point. Bad things happen as do good. This is life as we know it. 

In time, I'm able to stand again. To start reaching out to those whose unwanted guests have come knocking. Who find themselves being penetrated by cruel blades. Blood gushing and the feeling of this being the end. Well it isn't. 

The unwanted guest has outstayed her welcome once more. This time however, companionship helps to ease the bleed and in time, though she never leaves, you will get up again.

Dedicated to a very special family.

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