Shifting Perspective in Grief

An article ran today in the Huffington Post's Healthy Living section that may be of interest to anyone who is grieving or even who knows someone else who is suffering from grief:

Griever's Gold: Cherished Memories

The advice given in this piece is reiterative of some of what I've written about in this blog, especially the way the author launches into her list by saying, "The following five techniques can help a griever shift perspective."

The insight about the way people who are grieving consistently indicate that they would not trade away memories of their loved one in exchange for having the pain of their loss erased is interesting, I think, a different kind of spin on the idea that, no matter how dire or tragic one's situation seems, it's always a wise perspective to realize that things could be worse.

I also like the way she talks about shift and how it tends to occur in grief over time; it's really quite incredible that way comfort seeps into our lives to help (not to heal, I don't think) with the rawness of the pain thrust upon us when we lose a loved one.

The third item on the author's list, "Share stories with other people," reminds me of the quote that affected me so much when I saw it hanging on the wall of the grief counseling center where I went not long after my dad's death: 

Every grief needs a thousand tellings.

Although this may not be true for everyone or in every situation, I have found the "telling" to be helpful in my own grief process.

And finally, the fifth item, "Give thanks for the gift of this person in your life," which is my favorite on her list because it is totally dependent on one's perspective: instead of feeling only sorrow and anger for the loss of a loved one, one can choose to be grateful and happy for having had him to love at all - and to have experienced the impact of that person AND to have the honor of carrying him forward.

Every time I see this portrait of my dad standing in the redwood forest, I think of the word "IMPACT."

Ashley Davis Bush, who wrote the article for the Huffington Post, is the author of a book about grief that I highly recommend: Transcending Loss - Understanding the Lifelong Impact of Grief and How to Make it Meaningful.

What I Have Come To Believe - Part 1

There are some things that I've started to think about since my dad died that leave me with feelings of uncertainty; the more I ponder those things, the greater the lack of clarity I experience.

However, there are other things that I have become completely clear about, sometimes because I had never experienced or considered these particular issues before - and some things that I had come across but about which I hadn't had this particular perspective previously.  

Here's one of the things I know for sure:  I know that the world is different without my dad in it, but it's probably not as different as I judge it to be, at least not in a general sense.  Personally, I see the world now in a totally different light than I did before Dad got sick, and I've developed a view that is perhaps less naive, perhaps more jaded, or maybe both.  Every time I hear or read the statement "What doesn't kill you makes you stronger," I want to argue: from my perspective, this could not be further from the truth.  If we can keep from allowing it to break us down completely, we are not left stronger;  if we are lucky and diligent, we are left transformed, metamorphosized, different.

I search for consolation for the rest of my family and for the other people who knew my dad and who still say to me "I just can't believe he's gone," but I am unable to find anything of comfort for them since I have yet to find it for myself.  Time has passed; some of the sharp edges of grief have moved into more of an aching pain, but the sorrow and all of the other emotions that come along with the mourning are still there, with no end in sight.  I am different from the person I was before my dad got sick; I live differently, I think differently, and I believe differently.

I know this grief won’t end. It will only change and lessen. We will not get over it, but we will learn to live beside it, hopefully more efficiently and more gracefully than we have been able to do so far. We will hold our memories in our hearts and rely on the promise that the thoughts that now make us mourn will one day be overshadowed by the ones that make us smile.

Denial - Six Months Later

There is an old Chinese proverb that says, “You cannot prevent the birds of sorrow from flying over your head, but you can prevent them from building nests in your hair.”

Denial has been a better Friend to me over the past 9 months than I ever would have believed it could be.  Yesterday marked the six-month point since Dad went on ahead.  SIX MONTHS!  That makes me sick to my stomach.  The hourglass is glued to the table and I want to throw myself to the floor and beat the ground with my fists, like a two year-old child.  Believe me, if I thought that would help anything or make me feel one iota better, I would do it!

I’ve heard the transition between this world and the next compared to the metamorphosis of a caterpillar to a butterfly.  I don’t like this metaphor, though; I prefer a tree turning into petrified wood. 

I believe my family and I did everything we knew to do to help Dad while he was sick.
I believe Dad is ok, but I’m not sure I will ever be.  I don’t even know what “ok” is anymore.
I believe that I am a different person than I was nine months ago.
I believe that in some ways I am stronger than I was before Dad got sick, but in even more ways I am much more fragile.
I believe Dad wants me to be truly happy; I'm just not sure I can make it all the way there without him.

I wonder how this is affecting my family.
I wonder how this is going to get better.
I wonder how I will remember this time and the “me” of now.
I wonder if I won’t always remember his face, his voice, his pride, and his pain and if there is a way that I can MAKE SURE that I do remember it all.
I wonder what comes next.

I see the birds circling over my head, and I am doing everything I know how to do to keep them from nesting in my hair.