Finding comfort in the ordinary and familiar
Monday, 6 October 2025
Donna Miles is an Iranian-Kiwi columnist and writer based in Christchurch, and a regular opinion contributor.
OPINION: In the epic 11th-century Persian poem The Book of Kings, known in Farsi as Shahnemeh, Bijan is a hero celebrated for his strength and good deeds.
I only discovered this after the unexpected death of my long-time friend Bijan, who was indeed known for his good deeds and dedication to fitness. His mother is well-versed in Iran’s literary tradition, so it would not surprise me to learn that she chose his name to connect him to Persia’s pre-Islamic heritage, of which Bijan was immensely proud.
Death is the most permanent and extreme form of loss, and sudden death carries a particular shock, making it one of the hardest kinds of grief to endure, leaving people unsettled and unprepared for the painful consequences of absence.
As my friends and I try to come to terms with Bijan’s death, we keep recalling and sharing both recent and distant memories of him. Those who were closest to him speak of a disconnection from everyday life, even of losing a sense of self and belonging.
Bijan died of an unexpected medical event. No-one in our group of friends had the chance to say goodbye. His untimely death has reminded us of our own mortality and the fragility of life.
On the day we heard the devastating news, we gathered at a friend’s house. I found it deeply consoling to be among close friends. In the days since, I have seen how differently we are grieving. Some are overwhelmed, others remain in disbelief, and for one friend, belated tears arrived in the dead of night.
There have been other surprises too. The seemingly most resilient among us has been most shaken, while the least practical one has proved capable of facing decisions and obligations with quiet strength and unusual steadiness.
At the burial on Thursday, it was still hard for me to accept that the coffin being lowered into the grave was Bijan’s.
In Little Venice, the London neighbourhood where many of our friends have lived (on and off for us) for more than 20 years, Bijan, a well-known restaurateur, was a constant and visible presence.
“ I would see him every morning walking past my window to get his coffee,” a friend said in disbelief. It is striking how much comfort we find in the ordinary and familiar, especially in a world that feels increasingly chaotic and unpredictable.
Experts tell us that, among adults, in terms of intensity and duration of grief, the death of a child is especially difficult.
Many older parents rely on their adult children for social support, and the sudden disappearance of this lifeline compounds their emotional pain. Research shows that lack of support after bereavement is a strong predictor of depression, especially in the elderly.
As people get older, their experience of bereavement increases. I have often wondered whether this repeated experience deepens suffering, or whether, in some way, people become inoculated against its intensity. Research suggests there is no simple answer. We all process and respond to grief in our own ways, shaped by both inner resilience and external support.
Many of us have heard of the five stages of grief, developed by the psychiatrist Elisabeth Kübler-Ross in her 1969 book On Death and Dying.
The five stages: denial, anger, bargaining, depression, and acceptance, were first applied to those facing their own death, but the model has since been used to understand the grief of losing a loved one. These stages are not linear; people may cycle through them, revisit stages, or skip them altogether.
I have long felt sceptical of this model, thinking that it oversimplified grief. Experiences of loss vary widely depending on culture, personality, and circumstance. Yet, observing those around me in the past couple of weeks, I see how the model can offer a useful framework for understanding both grievers and their supporters.
Sudden death often begins with denial, a buffer that softens the initial shock and allows reality to settle in slowly.
Anger can follow, fuelled by frustration and helplessness. It often deflects guilt or regret onto others, for instance, by blaming medical staff as a way of externalising unbearable emotions.
The bargaining stage reflects a search for control, expressed through “what if” or “if only” statements, wishing for more time or imagining different outcomes. It delays the finality of loss and provides temporary relief from despair.
Depression comes as reality sinks in, bringing profound sadness and withdrawal as the void left by the loved one becomes clear.
Finally, there is acceptance. This is not about being “okay” with the loss but about acknowledging its permanence while still carrying grief.
Acceptance is what I wish for all of Bijan’s family and friends, and most of all for his elderly mother, who now bears the heaviest burden of his sudden death.