I lost a grandparent for the first time at 26. I was surprised by how much it affected me.

It’s only this year, at the age of 26, that I’ve had a grandparent — my maternal grandmother — die.

It wasn’t unexpected. My grandmother, who I call my nan, lived with dementia for almost a decade, with her decline clear to see. Because I did a lot of my grieving while she was still here and she hadn’t been the person she used to be for a long time, I wasn’t sure how much her death would affect me. Would I even feel relieved, knowing she’d no longer be suffering?

I knew things were coming to an end in May, and I went back to my hometown for a few days to see her for a final time. A couple of mornings later, I got the call from my parents, which came both as a shock and as no shock at all. Even though I knew it was coming, it was still surreal.

It was hard at first to believe that she was gone

That day, I worked from home as I always do, and continuing as though everything was normal actually helped at first. But it hit me like a brick the next day, so I let myself have a day off. I walked into town and wandered around the shopping mall, almost feeling like I was in a daydream.

It can feel like losing a grandparent isn’t viewed quite the same as losing a parent, partner, or child, if for nothing else, because of their age. People often have varying relationships with their grandparents; some people are brought up by them, while others only see their grandparents just once or twice a year, if at all. And then there are those of us for whom it’s somewhere in the middle.

My nan lived two or three miles away from my family while I was growing up, so we saw her regularly. After my parents, she was the person who cared for me and my sister the most growing up. Because of this, it felt as though a part of my childhood died with her. Cruelly, despite having a career, a long-term partner, and pets, this event is the one thing that’s made me feel most like a “real adult.”

This is my first major loss

I didn’t feel like myself for a while afterward, and it’s fair to say that I still don’t. Though I’ve experienced the death of more distant relatives, this reels like my first major loss, and I’ve also been grieving almost in isolation, away from my family. That said, a group of my college friends and their partners sent me a very touching bouquet of flowers, and my girlfriend, whom I live with, has offered support, too.

Another factor, I think, was that it just felt unfair for my nan herself. I had 26 years with her, which is more than a lot of people get with their grandparents, but at the same time, she was a younger grandparent, with her Nintendo DS and Green Day CDs. The average life expectancy for women in the UK is almost 83, so 71 feels like a young age to lose her. My other relatives in their 70s are very physically and mentally active, and many of them enjoying a more vibrant social life than I do.

Her funeral was three weeks after she died. It was one of the most difficult mornings of my life, but it did begin to offer a degree of closure. A few days later, my girlfriend and I went on vacation, and the trip was just what I needed.

Even now, I’m still struggling. It’s gradually getting easier, and I certainly relate to the famous stages of grief model. It’s easier — sometimes, at least — to look back at fond memories rather than feel the acute pain of her loss.

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