There is vast and varying discourse out there around grief and the different ways it can be experienced. There are the theories, the time and place, the numerous types of loss that activate grief within us that are not necessarily associated with death. It can be an absolute minefield, because whether or not we expect grief to show up or how ready we think we might be for it, grief arrives.
Grief and loss are often part of a psychotherapist’s work; however, I’ve recently found myself reflecting a lot on grief and what it means to me both personally and professionally. I read recently that “Grief is a cruel kind of education” (Ngozi Adichie, 2021), and this resonated with me so deeply and inspired the title and theme of this article, as I looked back on some moments in the last year that have brought grief sharply into focus.
Navigating a Year in Grief
Early last year, I lost one of my uncles to cancer. His death was expected, but nonetheless a major blow to our close-knit family as we lost a funny, charming and loving presence in all of our lives. In the weeks that followed, as we waited for the funeral arrangements to be made in England, we simultaneously mourned him and celebrated him, as neighbours who knew him arrived to express condolences and we all shared our favourite moments and stories of him.
Our grief and sadness as a family sat side by side with celebration of a life well lived, which could be confusing at times as both of these perspectives clashed. Yes, he lived a long and fulfilling life, but that didn’t take away the pain of losing him. As the months passed and brought the “would-have-been” milestones, we learned together, as a family, to live with this conflict and get to know a life without my uncle’s phone calls every week or presence at family gatherings, while continuing to love him and honour his memory.
A few months later, a fresh wave of grief arrived when a very dear friend of mine died by suicide. This was a completely different experience of grief, almost violent as the shock crashed through me and left only a deep and aching sorrow. Then the questions flooded my mind; why had this happened? What could I have done differently; how did I not detect and prevent this? The latter of these questions triggered intense guilt; I told myself that I should have been a “better friend” and that as a psychotherapist I “should have known better”.
As the weeks and months continued, so did life and all of the celebrations and routines that it entails. Yet I found that for a long time, my grief would wax and wane as I tried to make sense or meaning from my friend’s death. It would come to the fore in the strangest and most unexpected ways; a certain song, a specific place, would bring painful reminders of my friend crashing back to me and the fact that he was gone. Almost as quickly as the louder moments came, so too did the quiet ones in which I could more easily lean into my resources that helped me to navigate these spikes of grief and emotion.
Limiting Grief
Having two immensely differing grief experiences in the same year brought a lot of pain, but self-reflection and compassion in equal measure as I processed these experiences within myself. An element I became most curious about were the ways I tried to limit my grief, and why? Perhaps so that I might minimise it, make it smaller or more manageable, or maybe even make it go away. I thought about the ways I questioned my behaviours and responses to my losses, asking myself how should I act? Should I be crying more or less? Should I be holding it together or falling to bits?
I questioned how important my relationships were; I remember clearly asking for time off to attend my uncle’s funeral and feeling as though I had to justify my request, lest my boss would think “it’s only your uncle”, despite the fact I loved him dearly and cherished him as a light in our extended family. I berated myself for not reaching out more to my friend, despite having discovered that my last message had not even delivered to him and that regular phone contact was never a standard feature of our relationship. Did that make our friendship less meaningful, or that I loved him any less? I don’t believe so.
From both personal and professional experience, I believe that this act of placing limits on grief is a common experience, heard both in and outside of the therapy room. So, when these limits on our grief are exposed and named, the question remains as to whether they actually help, or harm us? It may, in fact, have a temporary beneficial effect in that it helps us to minimise grief or keep us from really engaging with it. Eventually though, this tactic will lose fortitude, and we will be made to either face grief or become stuck in it.
What Can Help?
One of the most profound and powerful experiences for a grieving person, is to have their grief truly witnessed. David Kessler, a prominent grief educator and author, writes that the need for us, as human beings, to be witnessed in our emotional experiences and have them reflected back to us is innate; not only this, but it is also built into our society and cultural practices (Kessler, 2019). To have your grief witnessed is to be truly heard and understood, to be able to lay bare your experience without having to quantify them by time, place, age or the impact your loss has had on your life.
When you are ready, which should always be individually decided, there are places and resources available to help cope with your loss and its resulting grief. Group peer support for bereavement is available from organisations such as The Irish Cancer Society, Irish Hospice Foundation, HUGG, or there may be more local services available in your area.
Alongside this, one to one psychotherapy offers a place where your grief can be witnessed with patience and understanding, where there is no judgement or expectation on you and your process. It is a space and opportunity to explore your most difficult experiences and emotions and to understand the meaning they hold for you. Above all else, it is a place where your unique experience can be witnessed and valued, and where you can discover ways to live lovingly and meaningfully after a loss.
Written by Bernadette Moran, Pre-Accredited Psychotherapist at The Misneach Centre, Main St, Moate, Westmeath. To read more about Bernadette or book an counselling appointment with her, click her profile link below:
https://misneachcentre.ie/bernadette-moran
References
Kessler, D. (2019). Finding Meaning: The Sixth Stage of Grief. Scribner.
Ngozi Adichie, C. (2021). Notes on Grief. Harper Collins 4th Estate.