Holly Wainwright

I know that you deeply love and respect her family, so there wouldn't have been resentment to them.

But there must have been a lot of anger about that.

You write about what you've learned about grief.

I'm sure that at the time you probably couldn't have written as beautifully about it as you have.

But I wanted to ask you, if you're happy for me too, if I can read you a tiny bit about what you've written about Grief Club.

Because you write about how as you were in the time after losing Katie,

you began to understand that walking amongst us, like, there are two types of people, really, people who understand this and people who don't.

And you talk about the frustration sometimes of talking to people who weren't in this club, who were just like, I'm sorry, you know, I'm sorry for your loss.

And you just say it seems meaningless.

And you got quite rageful at the...

Yeah.

You write, the non-grief club civilians panic, unsure of what they're meant to do, because the answer is nothing.

No one can do anything.

And the club knows that, so they can sit in it with you.

They're not scared by your pain because they have their own.

Grief is lonely because there's no true way to explain individual pain, but the grief club is the closest we have.

With my new membership, I started to notice the people in my life who'd been in the club for a long time, and our relationships deepened.

They could finally speak to me about their whole selves, not just the version they put on to show up on the days they didn't want to.

And as all these people began to materialize, I felt like an absolute moron for not realizing I'd been surrounded by members of the Grief Club my entire life.

You write about how you realised that even your parents were in the grief club.