What Can I Do with my Grief?

Lake Catherine State Park, Fall 2014

In the 20^th Century we became accustomed to accentuating the positive and disregarding the negative in our lives.  The “Can Do” attitude that grew out of the WWII became “Make a Difference” for the Boomers.  Problems became challenges.  Setbacks became opportunities.  Negativity was a failure to see the positive.  Today we have a much more measured viewed of the negative moments in life. 

But there is one realm that has been untouched by this new approach to life.  Grief is still viewed as a problem to be fixed, a disorder to be corrected, or a situation to be resolved.  Many people believe that they will “get over it” in time.  It can be overcome with the right steps.  We want and expect a clear path with stages of grief to help us see that we are making progress toward our “getting over it.” 

Fortunately, there is a more realistic approach that has been evolving over the last 15-20 years.  It begins with statements like these.  

Grief is never  resolved.  We do not get over it.  Nor do we recover from it.  Grief is not a problem to be solved, a hurdle to be gotten over, nor a malady from which we need to recover.  Grief is not a problem, a situation, or an illness.  It is a life experience!  It is part of the human journey that grows out of the greatest gift we can give or receive, love.

Grief is the result of losing someone or something that we love.  It is a void that will come to anyone who loves.  While it will be a unique, unpredictable experience, it is inevitable and natural to the human experience.  It is not caused by something outside of ourselves but rises from deep within our core where we hold our love.  It is not something that attacks our life.  Rather, it rises from within a life that has been well lived.  In short, grief is a painful but natural and expected experience that rises out of losing someone or something that we love deeply.

Grief disrupts who we are, our daily routines, our hopes, and dreams for the future.  It is a moment when we must face pain, change, questions of self-identity, and new realities.  It is part of life, natural and unavoidable.  It is not unlike puberty, falling in love, and having a child.  It is part of the expected order of things that promotes learning and growth.  Hopefully we have had people to guide us through these moments.  Parents, grandparents, siblings, friends, teachers, spiritual leaders, and mentors will have helped us prepare for the moment when grief overshadows our lives.  If we have been taught and learned well, we will be more resilient in our grief.  If we have not been taught well or if we have not been very attentive during our growing up, we may find grief to be more complicated.   But grief will come, it will be painful, and we will have to face it, one way or another.

So, then, what do we do about our grief?  Or rather, “What do we do with our grief?”

What Can We Do with Our Grief?

Grief is a time to honor our loss(es) and the feelings it evokes.  Great love is a gift from the great mystery of life.  We cannot earn love.  We cannot win love.  We cannot deserve love.  Love comes from the deepest recesses of the mystery that surrounds us in life.  Many will call this mystery, God.  Others may call it, Life.  Others will simply acknowledge it to be a deep mystery, unknown and unbidden, but as real as the wind on our face.

Such love brings a vitality and meaning to life.  It swirls arounds us and opens our lives to so much that would be locked away behind walls of self-centeredness and blind practicality.  It offers us the colors of the sunrise and the beauty of a sunset.  It transforms an evening walk into a wondrous journey.  It creates a deep companionship that brings deep satisfaction in being with another.  Love brings so much to our lives.  Unfortunately, when death steals away someone we have loved so deeply, it also threatens to take away all the marvels that it brought with it.  It is not simply the loss of a person, but the loss of a life that is deeply entwined with our own.

The grief that grows out of this loss offers us the time to honor that life and all that it brought to our lives.  It is true that we often take our loved ones and the gifts they provided for granted.  But in death, they and their gifts are deeply experienced in their absence.  In these moments, while the grief burns in our soul, we can recall and remember the gifts and honor them with gratitude by remembering. 

Grieving allows us to time to tell the story of our journey with our loved one.  It allows us the time to sit with others who also have stories to tell, memories to share.  In these moments we respect their life and the life we shared with them.  We learn to value the gifts they offered and allow gratitude to begin to well up from within the depths of our soul.  This will not make the pain go away.  This will not chase away the darkness or alter the changes that will result from our loss.  But the stories will allow us to re-connect to the person and discover that in many ways they are still there, where they have always been.   In honoring them, we allow them a place to live in our mind and soul.

Grief is a time to discover ways to live with our loss(es).  Coping is a big part of any unforeseen life change.  When we lose a job, we have to make changes to cope with the losses.  When a baby is born, both parents have to learn to cope with being a parent.  When we lose someone we love deeply, we will have to cope with the changes that it brings.  This coping will grow out of our past experiences of grief, those who have mentored us in life, from trusted friends and advisers, and from the creativity that rises out of the unforeseen struggles.  Because there are multiple losses in a single instance of grief, we will have ample opportunity to learn many new coping skills.

We may learn the joy of doing things on our own.  We may discover that washing our own clothes or balancing our checkbook has a certain offers a certain measure of satisfaction.  We may find that there can be joy in choosing what to watch on TV, even if you watch the same shows. 

We may learn the joy of finding just how resilient we can be when we need to be.  We can discover the power of self-confidence to create room for patience in our lives.  We may rediscover the joy of being connected to other people and accepting and offering help to one another.

We may learn to appreciate the silence that allows room in our soul to get reacquainted with who we are and who we want to be.  We may learn to deal with disappointment with a little less anxiety and a little more patience.

As we begin doing new things or rediscovering old skills that must be employed once again, we will cope with the losses.  In doing so we will gradually discover that we can and will learn to live with this loss.  It will not go away.  It will not hurt any less, but it may hurt less often which will allow more time to enjoy sharing and remembering the story of our great love.

Lastly, grief is a time to grow through your loss(es).  Every moment of life is an opportunity to grow.  We constantly grow in body-mind-soul.  Grief is a major part of that journey as we grow in body-mind-soul, especially in our later years.

We experience losses throughout our lives.  Each loss teaches us something about life and our particular life experience.  We may lose a friend to an argument.  We may lose a job or an opportunity.  We may lose our health or a relationship.  Each of these losses and the people who walk with us through them teach us something and allow us to grow.  Each one offered up a sizeable portion of grief.  Each one offered us new opportunities to grow in our capacity for love and trust, joy and hope.  But the loss of a loved one creates the greatest opportunity to grow into that person that is always coming to life in our daily living.  When we lose a loved one in death, we build upon what we have learned previously and can continue to grow through the pain. 

Unfortunately, I have seen people who refused to allow themselves to grow through their grief.  They have held onto the life they lived before the loss and enshrined it in a dusty emotional museum.  Their souls begin to wither away as they lose themselves in their grief.  They lose the living reality of the person they loved as their memories harden into a rigid caricature of the person.  They are always looking back to what was.   They become a person frozen in time and lost to themselves; who they are and who they are becoming.

Grief is a time when, in our coping and discovering, we allow the butterfly to emerge as a new creation.  We grow through our grief.  We find new wings upon which to use as we dance upon the winds of life.  It is a time to honor the past, cope with the present, and grow through and into the person that is struggling to be born in our lives.

In closing, I share a bit of timeless wisdom that speaks to what we can expect out of our lives, including grief.

Ecclesiastes 3:1-8 (NRSV)

For everything there is a season, and a time for every matter under heaven:

a time to be born, and a time to die;
a time to plant, and a time to pluck up what is planted;
a time to kill, and a time to heal;
a time to break down, and a time to build up;
a time to weep, and a time to laugh;
a time to mourn, and a time to dance;
a time to throw away stones, and a time to gather stones together;
a time to embrace, and a time to refrain from embracing;
a time to seek, and a time to lose;
a time to keep, and a time to throw away;
a time to tear, and a time to sew;
a time to keep silence, and a time to speak;
a time to love, and a time to hate;
a time for war, and a time for peace.

May you find love and trust, joy and hope growing in and through you as you find your way through the shadowed valley.

Blessings,

Bob

Bob’s new book, Whispering Presence: Inviting Mystery to be Your Daily Companion, is now available from amazon.com in both print and kindle editions.  You can download a free excerpt from Amazon.  If you want a companion who can help you find something more in your life, get your copy today.   Print Edition  Kindle Edition

The Gift of a Companion

Bryce Canyon, June 2007

My Dad grew up in the early 1900’s as the son of a sharecropper.  He had a pretty good singing voice and loved old Hank William’s tunes.  One of the songs that I remember him singing was  “Lonesome Valley.”   The chorus goes like this.

You gotta walk that lonesome valley

And you gotta walk it by yourself

Nobody else can walk it for you

You gotta walk it by yourself.

by Anonymous

This song first appeared in print in “Folk Songs of the American Negro” in 1907.  It was recorded but never released in 1924 by David Miller.  It became popular during the early years of the depression when the Carter Family recorded it in 1930 and  became a staple of the radio where I am sure my Dad heard it.

This old spiritual is a classic song of lament.  It grew out of a suffering heart that had no choice but to share its hurt.  These are songs sung together by sisters and brothers in hard the journey.  They are not pleas for help or songs of conviction about overcoming our trial and tribulations.   These songs offer up the hidden currents of grief that breakthrough into our community living.  They invite others to take our hand and walk with us.  They invite companions to share our aloneness.  The lament creates the possibility for connection.  It invokes empathy and solidarity in the core of our shared humanity. 

It is often said that grief is a lonely journey, and no one can make that walk for us.  We have to do it by ourselves.  Our grief is ours.  It is unique to us in this moment of a particular loss.  The companion cannot take away our sorrow or change the loss that we have experienced.  So, what does a companion to do?  How can a companion help us when we are feeling alone and vulnerable, lost in the wilderness of grief?  What does a companion have to offer the grieving spirit?

The companion helps to make our grief bearable as we take one step after another through that lonesome and shadowed valley.

Who is this companion?

A companion is someone with whom we share a special relationship.  The word companion comes from two old Latin words, com and panis.  Com means “with” and panis means “bread.”  A companion is someone with whom you share your bread.  They are people who gather with us as we are fed and sustained in life.  In the middle ages, the English used the word to refer to people with whom we travel, as in a pilgrimage or important journey.  Later on, it was used to refer to people with whom we shared our day to day living.  In recent years, it has been used to refer to someone who is paid to be with an elderly or ill person.

But I am using it as one who is a spiritual companion, one who sees us as we are, freed from any bias of need other than to be with us.  They share more than our daily bread, they share with us in the bread of life itself.

A companion understands us and grief well enough to simply let us grieve.  A companion in grief is likely someone who is no stranger to that lonesome valley.  They feel grief with us.  But they know that they cannot feel our grief.  They respect our grief because they know, by experience, that no one can truly know or carry our hurt for us.  A companion is present to us without trying to take our grief from us.

A companion stands with us in our tears, outbursts, and dark moments in grief.  They respect our hurting and offer a shoulder to lean on when our lives buckle under the weight of the pain.  They are not frightened by the strong emotions and powerful currents that sweep through our mind and soul.  They understand and respect our need to feel these things but do not leave us stranded in the middle of that emotional tempest.  They are within reach when we need them.  But they will not pull us onto the boat until we are ready.

A companion is not driven to “fixit.”  They are in the moment with us.  A companion does not carry a box of tissues around to wipe away every tear that may appear.  They know and respect the value of tears.  They understand that tears do not need to be fixed.  In grief, there is no fixing.  They do, however, carry a handkerchief in their purse or back pocket, so that when we reach for something to helps us with our tears, they are ready.  They do not offer endless advice on “fixing our problems.”  They do offer a sounding board that we can use to bounce ideas and perceptions. 

A companion has our back when others rush in to “make us feel better.”  When Job faced is own grief, three people showed up to “help” him.  They tried to talk him out of his grief.  There are a great many of “Job’s Friends” around and they are ready to tell us to not grieve.  They do not respect the depth and breadth of grief.  They speak out of their experience and may tell us that the person died is in heaven.  They speak out of their own grief experience and tell us what they did to “get over it.”  They remind us that “we can have another child” or “God only calls home the best.”  A companion does their best to protect us from Job’s friends.  If they cannot head them off at the pass, they will offer a listening ear as we react to these wolves clothed as friends. 

A companion feels with us but is not overcome by their own pain.  There is a distinction between sympathy and empathy.  Sympathy is a response to our pain at seeing another’s pain.  Other’s suffering triggers a remembering of how that felt and engenders a sense of pity for the other.  We need a companion that can get past this  and respond to our pain.  We need a companion with empathy, a  meaningful connection between people that grows out of the other’s pain.  It focuses on the other, not us.  Its focus is on compassion, a “feeling with” the other and seeks ways to help them through their pain.  Empathy respects another’s pain while pity dwells on our own pain.  Empathy demands that we respect the distance between us and not get lost in our own pain.

A companion has a genuine concern about our well-being and is realistic about what they can do to help.  Most of us can read a helper’s intent within a few seconds.  We can usually tell if they are responding to us or to their own needs and desires.  It takes a pretty good actor (salesman) to fake genuine concern.  Our “gut” usually betrays them.  This intuitive reading of the other’s motives allows us to trust their care-giving because we know it is in our best interests, not theirs.  We can trust that they have worked through and know what they have to offer as well as what is beyond their power or ability.  We deserve a companion that engenders trust, not one that evokes suspicion.

A companion is someone we trust enough to accept a shoulder to lean on when we stumble.  Without trust we will hold back our “leaning” whether it is with the body, mind, or soul.  I had a walking stick for many years that was collapsible and easy to store.  But on one difficult hike, it collapsed in the middle of a rocky trail.  I could no longer trust it to help me through the rough spots.  I replaced it with a good, stout stick that has never failed me.  It makes the journey so much easier.  We need a companion who can do likewise when we traverse that shadowed valley.

A companion will be with us even when the grief has begun to ease.  Too often our friends experience “compassion fatigue” and are unable to walk the whole length of the valley.  They need to take care of themselves and sometimes that means leaving us in the valley.  But a  companion is able to stick with us with only occasional trips out of the gloom.  They find joy in their walking with us.  We can count on them being with us when the light starts to break through and we feel that “new normal” starting to emerge in our lives.  A companion is with us for the whole trip, even though it may go on far longer than either would like.

Finally, a companion is someone with whom we will look back with joy and say, “Remember when...” as we talk about our deepest moments of grief.  The companion will become one with whom we share not only our grief but also our journey to the other side of the valley.  When grief is no longer the defining experience in our relationship, we may feel the closeness begin to fade.  They recognize and acknowledge the changes that happen, and you are both able to look back rather than return to the darkest parts of the valley.  Instead, you and your companion will celebrate the journey and continue moving forward even when the relationship begins to change.

If you are blessed with a companion through your grief, you will have a gift beyond measure.  Honor that gift with honesty, integrity, respect, and gratitude.  They will make all the difference in the world to you.

Where Do I Find a Companion?

This companion can be crucial to our grief experience.  But it is not always easy to find someone who is able and willing to be that companion.  We must weed through Job’s friends and other innocently unhelpful people to find someone who can be our companion.  There are two concerns at play.  First, where am I likely to find a companion?  And second, how can I tell a good possibility from all the people around me?

There are several places to look for a potential companion.  It is important to note that a good candidate will often present themselves along with a bunch of Job’s friends.  If that is the case, move on to the next section on discerning a good companion.  However, if one has not showed up, you may want to look around and see if any potential companions are among these groups.

Among your family – Are you particularly close to a brother or sister, cousin, aunt or uncle.  If they are too close or are emotionally dependent on you, they may have trouble keeping their needs at arm’s length in walking with you.  But if you are close, they will likely know you well enough to see through and into your mind and soul.  They will also likely be with you through the long haul.

Among Your friends – A companion will be found most likely among your close circle of friends.  They will likely have been through a grief experience or two and have seemed to have grown through their grief.  They will have the distance they need to take care of themselves and the closeness to walk with you as long as you need them.

Local Hospice’s Bereavement Program – If your circle of friends or family do not have anyone, you may want to check with a local hospice (whether your loved one was on their service or not) and ask to speak with the Bereavement Coordinator.  They can guide you to a support group or offer you someone who might be able to help you.  Many hospices have volunteers who serve as companions.  Unless your grief is exceptionally complicated, you will not need therapy.  Ask, instead, for a companion.  If they do not understand your request, find another hospice.

What am I looking for in a companion?

Not their first rodeo – A good companion will be very familiar with the shadowed valley of grief.  They will likely have walked it themselves once or twice and with others who have been in grief.  They need enough personal experience with grief to develop empathy and avoid pity.

Ability to listen without interrupting -  A good companion is able to listen to you.  They need to hear your words, feelings, and stories without translating them through their own.  It is like talking with a “native speaker.”  They do not have to understand you through their experiences.  Instead, they can let their story rest comfortably in their own soul while you tell your story.  When talking with you they do not interrupt.  They let you tell your story in your words and in your way.  They may ask the occasional question for clarification.  But this should rise out of seeking to better understand you rather then sneaking their story into the conversation.

Close by (physically or electronically) – You will need to be in contact regularly.  The frequency will depend on your needs.  Ideally this will be through face-to-face contact or by telephone.  If you are comfortable with email, texting, or video conferencing, then these may work as well.  But your companion will want to be available when they are needed, and you will be responsible for choosing someone who can “be there.”

The patience to allow your relationship to unfold – An anxious companion will not generally be able to provide the support you need.  They may be anxious about their time, grief, your relationships, or a myriad of other things.  Your companion needs to be calm and patient enough to let the relationship evolve and grow.  Generally, it deepens as the trust grows and does not happen immediately.

An inner connection – The best indicator will be the inner connection that exists between you and your companion.  What does your gut say?  How comfortable were you talking with them when the topic of grief came up?  Do they “get it” as you tell your story?  These are all indications that they may be a good companion for you.

Our walk through that lonesome valley, whether it be the approach of your own death or the death of a loved one, will be a lonely one.  We are walking by ourselves with others.  It is a parallel journey.  They cannot carry you or show you the way.  But a companion will be at your side when you need them.  Together, the two of you will feast of the same loaf of the bread of life and find strength and encouragement in one another.  I pray that if you are grieving you will find a companion.  Or, if you know someone who is grieving, you will be able to become their companion.  You will both grow through the journey together.

Peace,

Bob