Grief is already a wild, topsy-turvy rollercoaster, but there’s even more loops and drops when you experience it during a Cambridge term. In my third term of first year a relative, who was an instrumental part in my life, unfortunately passed. I think their passing hit particularly hard for two reasons: one being that we were extremely close, and two because it was the first time someone particularly dear to me had passed, the unfamiliarity of it all making it feel a lot worse. Having just started to feel properly at home at Cambridge, this experience was a shock to say the least, especially while trying to revise for exams and complete my end of year coursework.

Although it wasn’t fully unexpected, I think that having immersed myself into the rigour of a bustling academic routine, I had maybe somewhat brushed the inevitability aside. I remember frantically fretting about missing one supervision to go home and be with my family. My perspective was all out of whack; I was convinced that a death would not be a valid excuse to miss supervisions. It took my far more rational-thinking boyfriend reassuring me I wouldn’t miss anything and basically forcing me to book the train home for me to finally listen.

“Although my world had briefly stopped, everyone else’s was continuing, moving quickly while I was in slow-motion”

Returning back to Cambridge after being home was odd. I had a myriad of feelings overcome me while I stared out of the train window as I approached the city: loneliness, sadness, happiness that he was out of pain – honestly, I was simply emotionally volatile, and it became even weirder when I got back to college. Although my world had briefly stopped, everyone else’s was continuing, moving quickly while I was in slow-motion. Of course this isn’t to say my friends weren’t the greatest support they could’ve been, but being without your family or support system who truly understood the person was weird, because if you were with them, talking about it is okay. Whereas at Cambridge it felt like I was rehashing old news. The fast-pace of Cambridge life felt so crazy and overwhelming when I felt like I couldn’t do anything other than rot and be emotionally confused.

Before I knew it I was attending lectures and supervisions again, and generally re-immersing myself into Cambridge life. Cosseted by weekly essays and extracurriculars, I felt guilty being busy and beginning to enjoy myself while my family was at home grieving. Perhaps the chaos was a conscious distraction from my grief, or maybe knowing I needed to do Cambridge-y things again made me feel like I had to speed up my processing time, and “get over it” quicker.

My college was supportive, although I didn’t go beyond telling my supervisor and tutor. Through them informing me of different options and people to talk to, I already felt more at ease; it made me realise that I wasn’t alone and abandoned to deal with my emotions, that the university is equipped to help and support in the bereavement process. I learned about, the bereavement groups at the Student Services Centre, which I was wholly unaware of and, the counselling on offer throughout the university. For me, the most important thing was talking. I felt the most alone when I wasn’t communicating how I was feeling, and from this, I realised the importance of not bottling things up. If that was talking to my family over the phone, talking to my partner and friends, or simply writing everything down in a journal, realising that how I was feeling was not a burden, and that people are willing to listen because they care about how I felt was comforting. So, to anyone else who is grieving while at Cambridge, you’re not alone. Although it can feel overwhelming, Cambridge is the home away from home, and there’s no shortage of love and support here.