'My dad died when I was 19. Here's the one question that changed how I grieved.'

Your twenties can be both exciting and scary. You are torn between the teenager you once were and the new pressures and responsibilities of adulthood. It's a time of self-discovery, where change is constant, and life often throws unexpected curveballs.

While some moments in your twenties are anticipated and embraced, others arrive without warning, changing your world in ways you never imagined.

For me, that life-altering moment happened at 19, when my dad died from Glioblastoma — an aggressive and terminal brain tumour. My dad was my best friend and my biggest supporter. He had a gentle smile that could warm your heart, a dangerously contagious laugh, and eyes that had the cheekiest glimmer in them.

Watch: Bethany Clarke on coping with grief on Mamamia's No Filter. Post continues below.

I can vividly recall the first night at home without my dad. I collapsed onto my bed, stared at the ceiling, and thought to myself: God. My life is never going to be the same again.

I was frightened, gutted, and defeated. I questioned how I was ever going to feel happiness again, and if a life beyond grief even existed. I was completely and utterly convinced that my twenties were going to be the worst years of my life.

Yet, something deep within me, a quiet, shaky voice wanting to be heard, questioned my thinking. What if I can learn to make something beautiful from this situation? What if this isn't the end?

After my dad died, I expected the world to stop and grieve with me. I constantly thought, why me? A crushing reality is that terrible things happen to people all the time, and life simply continues.

Time keeps moving, teasing you, looking back at you, waiting for you to catch up, not caring that your entire world as you've known it has imploded. I was angry, confused, and felt empty inside.

The demands of being a university student quickly dragged me back to reality and my focus turned to deadlines rather than accepting that I needed support. I convinced myself that if I didn't acknowledge my dad's death, then nothing could hurt me, and I could get back to 'normal' life.

The underlying truth is that things never go back to exactly how they were or how you want them to be, and sometimes, that can be a good thing. I acknowledge the young girl I was before losing my dad, whilst also grieving for the young girl I will never be again.

I miss her innocence and naivety but honour her grace and vulnerability. She carried me to where I am now, and for that, I am so grateful.

While each person's grief is unique to them, grief is a universal human experience. Yet sometimes it feels taboo. In the weeks after my dad's death, I turned to books, podcasts, and films for advice and perspective, as I couldn't bear the thought of starting an uncomfortable conversation with someone.

Death is hard to talk about — it's scary, confronting, and makes us feel vulnerable.

What can be even more frightening, though, is admitting to somebody that you are struggling with your grief. I had so many things I wanted to say, and so many different emotions, but I just needed somebody to listen. When I finally surrendered to my grief, I let in a lot of pain, unanswered questions, what-ifs, and regrets, but I also let in immense love.

We never seem to have enough time with each other, whether someone lives to 55 or 99. The idea of living the rest of my life without my dad was terrifying. I had no idea how to navigate this new life without him — there were still so many conversations I wanted to have, so many questions left unanswered.

More than anything, I just wanted him to tell me what to do — how to survive.

Younger Kelsey and her dad. Image: Supplied.

As life grew busy again, and I fell back into routine, I gradually found myself getting used to it. But time is certainly not synonymous with healing, and life is far from linear — so be gentle with yourself. Healing has no deadline.

Sometimes, the best thing we can do is learn to find comfort in discomfort.

Grief is forever present and has a funny way of seeping into both the joyous and the mundane.

I remember celebrating my 21st birthday at home. As we sat around the dinner table devouring cake, I peered at the empty seat across from me. Growing older sometimes feels like a betrayal. The more birthdays that pass, the more I feel like I am leaving my dad behind.

However, you only ever truly leave someone behind when you stop talking about them. My family could sit over a cup of coffee, chatting and laughing about Dad for hours, as though he is still here.

I have photos of him plastered around my bedroom, cards and handwritten notes tucked safely away in memory boxes, his favourite jumpers that feel like he's giving me a hug when I wear them, and videos on my phone that I listen to when I miss his voice.

Celebrate the people you have lost — keep them alive in your heart. Grief is nothing but love with nowhere to go.

What could have been the darkest time in my life became a whole lot brighter because of my beautiful friends and family, who are quite literally sunshine in human form. I am forever grateful to them for creating a space so comfortable for me to both weep when days feel heavy and laugh until I can't breathe on the days when I feel invincible.

'Grief and joy can coexist.'

They are proof that grief and joy can coexist. My friends have taught me the true meaning of love, and I owe so much to them. They have taught me that the little things in life are really the big things.

A coffee date, a walk, a never-ending dinner-time conversation, or a warm hug, make me feel the luckiest. Stay close to these people; you deserve to feel seen, heard, and appreciated.

Whether you are curious about grief, have just begun your grief journey, or are somewhere along the way, please don't be afraid to reach out and start that (sometimes) awkward conversation.

Chances are, someone else is also out there, afraid and alone, desperate to be heard and validated. Loss is incredibly complex and difficult to navigate, but you don't have to tackle it alone.

Listen: Advice on getting the right help for you, on the But Are You Happy? podcast. Post continues below.

Grief has taught me that with such monumental loss, can come such profound gain. Losing my dad was the hardest thing I have ever had to endure, but through it, I have experienced the happiest of moments and met the most special people.

Everything I know about life and love has come from such great loss. So, I hope this grief stays with me.

Feature image: Supplied.