A(wake) in Grief
My oldest son was delivered by c-section over thirty years ago in Boston, and I will never forget the doctor preparing me for the sensation that would hit my chest as they lifted his perfect eight-pound body from my womb. Indeed, a dense pressure flowed to my chest region in the wake of excavating his form from mine. What was once nestled inside me, and was no longer, remarkably created a negative space and a vacuum that was immediately felt by my internal organs. Thankfully the “elephant-on-the-chest” sensation passed quickly, replaced by the joy of my healthy newborn laid on my breast.
No one is truly prepared, though, for the grief and it’s swell of deep sorrow that fills a person in the wake of losing a loved one. It sits heavy in the chest, filling the negative space created by the personal loss. When my father passed unexpectedly a few years ago, I felt this visceral pressure exchange in my chest as I took in the news that he had died half a world away from me. I had not registered how embodied my love for my father was until he passed and grief let me know.
GRIEF, itself, may be a pervasive and profound experience of loss, full of sorrow, but TO GRIEVE is a verb, implying action. How do we transform that negative space, filled with sorrow, into a space filled with love, acceptance, and peace, despite the loss? How do we integrate the loss and be whole again?
i. Time and Compassion
§ It will take some time to shift sorrow to sadness. And some more time to shift sadness to a sweet tenderness of remembrance. Accept that; and in accepting that, it may take a little less time. Maybe.
§ Grief in the Time of Covid adds to the complexity of grieving. Compounded grief can have elements of shock, trauma and guilt. Be aware of the additional stressors that may be part of your everyday life that could be suppressing or amplifying your grief. The last two years have created so much stressful conditions for nearly everyone–overwhelmed medical facilities, economic hardships, eroding levels of trust in society, isolation and fear of the unknown, etc.
As an example of this pile-on effect of the present times, I will share the recent challenges that the family of a dear friend who passed last week, from Covid, is having to contend with as they begin to process their loss: a sense of negligence from one medical facility to a sense of frustration at strict protocols denying physical contact from another medical institution, all while witnessing the suffering and anguish their mother experienced throughout the month-long ordeal. They admit that they are traumatized by the experience and will need time to process before they are personally available for contact and condolences.
Advice: Assess if you are dealing with more than just grief and seek therapeutic help. And if you are feeling numb and overwhelmed and not able to assess your state of well-being, seek out therapeutic help so you can be supported in looking after yourself. Be vocal about your needs, as best as you are able. The example I used above is a good model of a family communicating to the people around them that they need space and to give them time.
If you are able to identify other sources of perceived obstacles or contributors to your present state, compounding your grief, make a list and reach out where you may be able to communicate your grievances and frustration. Self-advocacy can be challenging when you are grieving, but if it helps you to feel heard, it may lessen the load and pressure you may be feeling.
ii. Grief is personal. It is the ultimate ‘me-time.’
It may seem strange that I would phrase it this way, as we tend to frame “me-time” as a well needed moment away from others to recharge and pamper oneself. But grief is personal and specific to you and the relationship with the person who died.
Death forces a lot of details to the surface for personal review, whether you like it or not. We tend to replay certain events over and over to glean our own behavior, and can be overwhelm with regret and guilt. Perhaps you register that you have lost your chance to express yourself fully. You sense how much was left unsaid with no more second chances.
Or perhaps, the relationship with the person who passed was not particularly healthy and loving. And you are confused at why you can grieve for someone who you can’t even forgive.
We can abuse grief as well, using it as a way to torment ourselves or to create suffering. I fell into this behavior quite unintentionally myself. Most of my adult life I have lived abroad, usually on the other side of the world from my family. My father and I were close despite not seeing each other for stretches of years. My last phone conversation with him was brief, but full of his sweet charm, calling me “kiddo” and that he would be ok “partner.” (We had a western John Wayne vibe going most of my childhood that lingered into adulthood.) He was admitted to the hospital in Denver for complications from a recent surgery. My brother said he was quite drugged and the doctors would be giving an update soon. We agreed my brother would call me if there were any developments. I happened to be in Norway heading back to Australia the next day. Well, my father passed quickly before my brother could call me. He had become septic and I had, without knowing, had my last conversation with him.
That sweet moment of ignorance, declaring that he would be fine, and me going to sleep, only to awake fatherless became fodder to my mind. When I finally recognized months later that I would search for that memory and replay it to invoke an emotional pain response, I was shocked at my behavior at seeking a way to suffer. I understood I felt guilty that I was not there at his bedside, or for many other life events. It was a wound that felt good to push on.
Truthfully, my last conversation with father was a perfect representation of his character: him putting on a brave front to allay my worries while he laid there literally dying. I had to remind myself to be mindful and intentional with my memories. To be awake with my grief, to let it help me shape a new awareness of my father’s love.
Advice : If you experience details appearing and needing review about your relationship to the decease, be patient and compassionate with yourself.
If you can sense that you have feelings of regret, shame, and guilt that pushes you more towards suffering without aim to balance and heal, then let the awareness that you are doing this become the next step of changing the behavior. Behavior that perpetuates suffering is not grief, so look at what belief you have that requires you to suffer. It is not impacting your loved one, who is not in physical form. It is only impacting you and complicating your grief.
If you were unable to have a last conversation with your loved one, or if you have regrets at what was or wasn’t said, then write a letter to them. Let it flow and express yourself as if they are there with you now. Give yourself the opportunity to clear your mind and share your heart. Give yourself time and space to go at your own pace, spread over days or weeks.
iii. Rituals that connect the seen with the unseen
Creating a ritual that connects you to your loved one can be incredibly healing. Building an alter; donating to a cause that was important to them, visiting places of great importance to them. Notice what they would notice, laugh at what they would laugh at—this allows them to still live on within you without being so internalized. Expressing your love and respect for them externally helps to circulate your thoughts and emotions. Being creative, in any form, will help process the grief.
I created my own service for my dad and took his ashes on a picnic near the top of one of our favorite Rocky Mountain peak. I bought all of his favorite hiking snacks and I lingered in the tundra of high-altitude vegetation reminiscing of his love for nature, which has been passed down to me, and also to my kids.
iv. Sharing memories and context: in memoriam
Gathering family, friends and community members to celebrate a person’s life is a beautiful way to honor and respect a life that once lived.
My dad was fond of the saying that is “easier to measure a tree when it’s lying down.” And somewhat regrettably this is true for a person’s life. What can you appreciate about your loved one posthumously? There can be an unexpected moment of delight to meet someone who was a friend or an acquaintance of your loved one and to see them through the experiences of another.
My friend Rosa’s beautiful and intelligent daughter Tina died of cancer before she could explore the world properly, and mischievously, as she would have given the chance. So, Tina’s friend filled dozens of small vials with Tina’s ashes, with the instruction that people could take Tina on excursions and holidays and to report back the events and destinations. This connected Tina’s family and friends in a community project that continues to honor their connection to Tina and her life.
Perhaps you are not comfortable eulogizing your loved one in front of others, but if you can find a small way to contribute it will help you share your knowingness of the deceased. What music would they like, what flowers, what charities, etc. ?
v. Empathy
Once you have experienced grief at the loss of loved one, you have direct experience with what this means personally. You now can host empathy for anyone else in the same predicament. Though grief is personal, it’s also universal; everyone living will have experienced the death of a loved one by the time of their own death. So, it’s not a very exclusive club, but it is empowering to know that all of humanity shares in the experience. It may help you to be in the presence of others who are grieving and to allow each other a form of support—however that may look. It may help you to not feel so isolated with your sorrow. Look for local bereavement groups and reach out and experience for yourself the value of sharing with others.
I experience grief like a place holder for the person who is gone—a raw fragile material, of sorts, that helps me to process my pain and sorrow, and to help me traverse from a one reality into accepting the next. In an abstract way, I’ve come to view grief and grieving like the Japanese ceramic art form called Kintsugi. It is a process of mending a broken pot with precious metals. Grief, too, can turn something broken into a beautiful expression of wholeness.