My paternal grandmother died 13 years ago. Her name was Marion. Actually, we only called her “Grandmother.” although as formal as that sounds, she was not as such. A bit of a hippie, was one of the most quintessential DIYers you could think of, made ridiculously delicious lemon desserts (if only I appreciated them as a 7 year-old), and had a background in social work. I adored her very much. Our daughter’s middle name is her maiden name – and so she carries on.
Unfortunately, all 4 of my grandparents have passed away. And they did so within a similar timeframe of just about two years of one another. I remember where I was when I heard (or suspected) the news of each of their deaths: in my college dormitory; driving home solo 7 hours from NY-ME in a snowstorm; in my childhood living room; alone in my apartment. The same month that my last grandparent died, my future father-in-law did, too.
I bring these memories up for a couple reasons:
1) I think it’s important to remember the context in which we know people – including when their physical bodies leave us. I certainly don’t consider my fondest memories of any them by way of how I discovered they were no longer alive, but that piece of their story certainly stays with me. Differently then, but akin to the way we might walk by a certain restaurant or outdoor park and remember holding hands with an ex-partner.
2) I want to honor that their deaths have certainly made a mark in various capacities of my life, and that while my grief has taken on new forms, it hasn’t gone away. I may remember one of them during a seemingly arbitrary day at work or while trying to fall asleep, and it will feel relevant at times, while in other ways so random. Grief has an interesting way of showing up.
We all do, don’t we? Have interesting ways of showing up?
Grief is the same culprit. There will be times in session when a client describes their grieving and it’s manifesting through tears. Or through anger. Or depression. Or being expressed through excessive drinking or frequent one-night stands. Grief can be represented by working extremely late hours at the office or questioning everything. Grief is not one thing.
“Grief” by definition can be as simple as: something “troubling or annoying.”
My boss gives me such grief for not responding to emails after 10pm.
Of course, grief due to the death / loss of someone (or something) can be as complex as: feeling “sorry, misery, anguish, heartbreak, dejection, despair, suffering, affliction, torment, etc” (Webster’s dictionary). And even more, grief can be complete or unresolved. It’s entirely different per person, based on age/ethnicity/family beliefs/culture/experience/etc. We cannot rush this process. Or expect it to appear a certain way.
As the griever or as the facilitator.
Grief is normal. Grief is natural. If only with ourselves, we all will experience death firsthand, at some point. How might we enter a conversation about this process? Does it feel scary to you? Intimidating? Difficult? How might we engage in a conversation that has so many unknowns? That isn’t linear? Models have been created in an attempt to help support the griever (think Kübler-Ross), exploring various emotional states and stages. These can be helpful. These can also feel limiting.
I don’t necessarily want this post to be about which stage(s) to “put” yourself in. Research over the years has shown that many stages can be revisited during the development of one’s grief journey. And we can have an entirely different grief journey per loss – just because (for instance) your favorite teacher’s passing was incredibly challenging, your uncle’s death may have been easier to process. This, due to innumerable circumstances (like the age you were when they died, the age they were when they died, how they died, etc.); none of which negates the other. They’re all unique and have a right to be felt in the way that you need to heal.
Grief is a path of life because we will all lose things and lose people. What we find happens after death is also so very unique; I’ll briefly share some of what I find to be helpful and true for my healing:
I feel my grandmother when I pass streetlights that shut off as I pass them by. This might be when I’m driving in the car, or during an evening stroll with my pups down the neighborhood sidewalk. Just the other week I got off my local train, and there it was – “blink!” Off went the streetlamp immediately in front of me. This experience can manifest as a ‘chicken or the egg’ situation, as sometimes I will be thinking of her and there goes out the light, or I may not be thinking about her at all, but when the bulb darkens she comes to mind. In most cases I smile because of it. Other times it is emotional for me. But in either case, I feel that she’s with me in some way – and I love that.
This may resonate with you – and perhaps not due to different reasons. Whatever your beliefs about death and dying (energy/afterlife), know that they are accurate if they are authentic to you. If the story of someone’s life carries meaning into yours – even after they have passed – then perhaps not all has been lost. Perhaps the gratitude of experiencing such heartache is valuable in it of itself, because it evokes a depth to your human experience.
Carly McDade is a Licensed Marriage & Family Therapist as well as Certified Yoga Teacher and Reiki Practitioner. She owns and operates her business, EmBodyed Tides – located in Erdenheim, Pennsylvania – providing holistic health practices to support women and families in getting “unstuck” in their lives due to various transitions including: role identity, relationships, trauma, grief and loss. You can learn more about her practice and her services by exploring this website – feel free to contact her at (267) 723-7169 or by emailing her at embodyedtides@gmail.com