People called my grandfather's heartbreaking death 'inevitable' — but they wouldn't say the same if I'd lost a parent or sibling

• When my granddad died in September 2019, not everyone in my life was as sympathetic towards his passing as they would have been if I'd lost a parent or sibling.
• My father called the loss "inevitable" when I cried down the phone to him, and my boss at the time didn't think his funeral warranted compassionate leave as he was "just a grandparent."
• Psychologists Perpetua Neo and Niels Eék explained that many people view a degree of generational separation as a lesser connection than an immediate family member.
• Also, not everyone considers their own grandparents to be close relatives, so they can't always empathize.
• While at one point I questioned if my intense heartbreak was warranted, I now unashamedly show my grief and gratitude for the relationship we had.
• Visit Insider's homepage for more details.

Death can bring out the good, the bad, and from my experience, the incredibly awkward in people.

When my granddad died on September 11, 2019, I was distraught, but found not everyone in my life was as sympathetic towards his passing as they would have been if I'd lost another close family member.

Some didn't really know what to say, and fell back on good-intentioned condolence messages that stepped along the same vein of: "Well, at least he had a good run."

But they wouldn't have dared to utter the same sentiment if I'd lost a parent or a sibling.

It seemed some people in my life couldn't grasp how tightly linked I was to my maternal grandparents, and how much I was struggling when one of them was suddenly gone.

People call a grandparent's death 'inevitable' — but they wouldn't say that about a parent or sibling

My granddad, John, got very sick very quickly in the space of a few weeks from the end of August to his death in September. The fittest 86-year-old you would ever meet, he didn't smoke, barely drank, and was still clambering up and down ladders until his health took a sharply sudden turn in the late summer.

Growing up, John and my nan Pauline, who survives him, were a cornerstone part of mine and my little sister's childhoods, turbulent teen years, and navigation of the adult world. We'd hang out with them every Saturday at their house in south west London, they babysat us throughout school holidays and on nights when our parents went out, and they never missed a birthday meal, dance show, graduation, or a chance to celebrate the most minor of triumphs.

As grandparents go, they're the gold standard. They were a continual solid presence, and I probably took their unconditional consistency in my life for granted at times.

When John started to deteriorate, he was taken into hospital, and we all knew what was probably on the horizon.

I explained what was happening to my boss at the time in case I needed to leave the office at short notice, and so people at work would be aware of the reason behind my quiet demeanor.

Friends were supportive, and went through the kind motions everyone does when someone you care about is dealing with death.

My sister had Hodgkin Lymphoma in her early 20s (she's in remission now), so I was used to the self-conscious statements of comfort people offer when they're lost for words.

Simultaneously endearing and annoying, we've all been there — selecting the least clumsy set of phrases which we think will cause minimal the amount of fresh upset to the person going through something which we ourselves haven't endured or don't quite understand.

However, some people are not so tactful in tragic circumstances.

In John's final weeks, I would drive to the hospital after work most days, and sit with him over the weekends, too. After one shattering conversation with a ward doctor who confirmed the cancer had gone metastatic, I drove home alone and scream-cried with grief down the phone to my father, who lives hours away and remarried after my parents divorced.

When I paused to catch my breath, he responded with: "Well, it's inevitable."

Expanding on his cack-handed attempt to be philosophical instead of soothing, he said death was coming for all of us, but I had to accept it sooner with a grandparent.

Not once did he mention "inevitability" when I expressed a similar pain I was going through when it looked like my sister, his daughter, was standing on life's precarious edge.

Why was the impending loss of my granddad, a close family member I've also known all my life, any different?

A degree of separation doesn't always mean a lesser connection

Niels Eék, psychologist and cofounder of mental wellbeing and self-development platform Remente, told Insider: "Nearly half of deaths globally are accounted for by people aged 70 or over. This has been the case for a long time and, as such, we are taught to associate old age and death from very early on in our own lives.

"This means that many people will have learned to see the death of a grandparent as 'normal' or 'expected,' and may see it as something one should accept as an inevitability rather than mourn over," he said.

"Unfortunately, the death of a grandparent is something that has been normalized in many cultures. This is not to say that it isn't regarded as a loss — it has more to do with norms and customs that have been built around the loss of elderly relatives."

Speaking to Insider, Psychologist Perpetua Neo added: "If you look at the hierarchy, there is a shorter generation gap between your parents and you, and your grandparents and you."

Neo said that when children turn into adults, it's their duty and responsibility to look out for their parents, whereas a grandparent is once removed from those built-in obligations.

When I asked work about taking time off for John's funeral, it became clear to me that some people view a degree of separation as a less important connection than the immediate family dynamic.

My boss at the time said I had to take it as a paid vacation as he was "just a grandparent," and compassionate leave was reserved at a manager's discretion for the deaths of primary relatives.

"Grandparents are just not weaved into the story as much as in other cultures," Neo acknowledged.

"While taking compassionate leave for the death of your parent or your child is one thing, taking compassionate leave for the death of a grandparent is another, and businesses don't generally like to waste time off if you think of it from a practical stand point."

This tiered way of thinking was made clear to me yet again when I was faced with a rack of greeting cards the Christmas following his death. Tears started streaming down my face as I was struck with splitting hurt over the tiny act of not being able to buy my usual "For Nana and Granddad" holiday card.

As I tried to decide whether to pick it anyways at risk of offending my nan, or opt for a card which simply said "Nana" and take the chance of magnifying her loneliness, a fellow shopper offered a tissue, then listened to me splutter about what felt like an impossible choice to make.

"I'm afraid grandparents die," she offered, probably regretting asking me what was wrong in the first place.

Many people don't remember what it was like to lose a grandparent

A grandparent dying is often the first brush with mortality young children come up against, and the memory of how they felt when it happened can fade.

Eék said there's a proven psychological bias called the fading affect bias or "FAB" which shows that "memories associated with negative emotions are forgotten more quickly than memories associated with positive ones."

"This, when combined with the fact that many people lose their grandparents at a young age, could account for the lack of sympathy expressed when someone loses a grandparent — as many people simply won't remember how painful the experience was," Eék said.

Grieving a grandparent as a teenager or adult can also feel as though it hits harder, as you've had a longer relationship and are more aware of the details around what happened to them.

Being told to pack this despair neatly away because they were "just" your parent's parent is more cutting than people realize.

Growing up without a close grandparent can dampen someone's ability to empathize

Neo also noted that some grandchildren never get to know their grandparents, "or people moved to different states or different countries where they barely spend any time with their grandparents, so the relationship is less."

Not having a close relationship with their own grandparents can dampen someone's ability to empathize, Eék added.

We were lucky that growing up, my grandparents were a 40 minute drive away, so we could physically see them every week.

They adored playing us as much as we adored spending time with them, too. My granddad was an artist (but loathed calling himself that) and taught us how to paint and draw, planting a love of creativity into both my sister and I from a young age.

However, it has become clear how someone who didn't have this type of experience might not be able to understand mine.

"Many tend to project their own understanding of loss and value onto others," Eék said. "If someone has grown up without close contact with their older relatives, they may not be able to comprehend the bond that others often do have with their extended family."

Carrying them with you is nothing to be ashamed of

All of this means when you're grieving the death of a grandparent, it can be hard to find solace in the people around you who don't quite get it.

Eék suggests creating an outlet for your feelings, setting goals, leaning on a support network of friends and family who do take your feelings seriously, and finding a keepsake to treasure.

It's also good to acknowledge that it's perfectly normal to still feel sad, no matter how much time has passed.

For a while, I questioned whether I was justified in being so full of sorrow — particularly after my boss suggested my granddad's funeral wasn't worthy of compassionate leave because he was "just a grandparent."

However, I ultimately realized the comment said more about my boss and his own background than it did about the legitimacy of my personal grief.

"My grandparents are dead, but when they were alive I had such a close relationship with them that when they died I was absolutely devastated — I'm still sad if I think about it even though it's been so many years, and it's nothing to be ashamed of," Neo said. "It's just the way I carry my grandparents with me."

Now, I keep a connection to John through the music he loved, scraps of paper he wrote nonsense on and doodled all over, and a cloud folder of photos and videos so I can still hear him sing or watch our last dance together.

I let tears of sadness and gratitude roll without shame whenever I think about the 28 brilliant years where I had the privilege of calling him my granddad.

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