Coming to peace with the emotional chaos, pain and confusion of grief is a process. Each of us experiences grief differently. Every situation that triggers grief is different. Grief associated with the loss of a grandparent feels very different from that which results from a miscarriage. The death of a partner, parent, sibling or child is different than that of a best friend. We may find that the pain and grief associated with the loss of a pet feels more intense than that of a person. The end of a marriage or other relationship, or the loss of a career, or a home to a natural disaster can also feel like a type of death and result in a similar sense of grief. Loss of our health causes its own set of grief related emotions.
We usually don't experience the full impact of our grief until the initial shock of our loss and the numbness that comes with it begins to fade. By then we may have used all of our emergency or sick leave at work; friendly shoulders, once readily available to cry upon, have moved to higher ground. People may be tired of hearing our story and wonder why we cant just leave the past behind and get on with life. We may be tired of our story as well. We may blame ourselves for not being able to get over it. We may feel angry, edgy, frustrated, confused, guilty, anxious, ashamed, lonely and depressed. We may be unable to sort out what it is we are feeling. Perhaps we feel all of these things. Perhaps we feel nothing. Perhaps we have discovered that the pain of grief and loss isn't something we "get over." Ever.
This sounds rather bleak but here's the good news. All of this is normal. There is no right or wrong way to feel. What you are feeling is exactly what you are supposed to be feeling. This is true in any situation and it is especially true when grieving. So, if we choose to process our grief it's very important to allow ourselves the freedom to experience our feelings and to accept them and ourselves without judgment.
I read a poignant story in 'The Sun Magazine' a couple of years ago. It goes something like this:
"A talented ballerina suffered a leg injury that ended her dancing career. The injury was so severe that she still walked with a slight limp. The woman's meditation practice deepened as a result of this tragedy and she decided that she wanted to study with a renowned Zen meditation master.
Upon meeting him the woman introduced herself and said she had a question about meditation. The Master, sensing the former ballerina's grief, said gently: 'First, tell me about your leg.' She began to weep. He just sat and wept with her. After a while the woman stopped weeping and the Zen Master told her to come back tomorrow. She did and the scenario repeated. When asked about her injured leg the woman began to weep. The Master simply sat silently weeping with her.
This continued daily for several weeks: the Zen Master and the Ballerina sitting and weeping. Finally, one day when asked about her leg the former ballerina did not to weep. Instead, to her surprise, she smiled at the Zen Master who smiled back and asked, "Now, what was your question about zazen?"'
I share this story because it so beautifully exemplifies the truth about processing grief: the only way out of grief is through it; and the only way through it is to learn to "be" with it. We all process grief differently but we all resolve it this same way. Going through grief can seem endlessly painful, frustrating, futile, chaotic and even at times boring. Facing griefs turbulent waters head on seems like a preposterous idea.
Grief often has an unreal, larger than life quality. This is especially true if the loss is unexpected. Its nearly impossible to grasp such loss in its totality. It easy to become overwhelmed and simply shut down. This numbness is common. It can be a way of coping with the initial shock we encounter. When the shock begins to wear off we may find that we have no adequate way to express our emotions. They are too intense, too large, and too raw. Mere words seem unable to convey what we are experiencing; even tears may not seem to be enough.
Rituals and ceremonies help us symbolically represent our thoughts and feelings. This symbolic expression can help us detach a bit from the enormity of the loss and the intensity of our emotions so that we can find a way to "be" with them. Ironically, gaining this objectivity can help us revisit and experience our pain without shielding ourselves from it. It can provide a sort of "container" that allows us to maintain both dignity and control, at a time when we need to "lose control" and surrender to our emotions.
Rituals that serve to reconnect us with the natural world can help us to feel grounded. One of the most difficult parts of processing grief is the feeling that we are ready to jump out of our skin, coming apart at the seams or, have a tenuous grip on reality. A ritual as simple as one that makes us acknowledge and honor the force of gravity can help immensely in making us feel (quite literally) rooted and anchored to the earth.
Ultimately, creative use of ritual can help us honor our grief and loss by providing us with a place for it in our lives. We honor the fact that we will never "get over" our loss. Hopefully, we'll find that we don't need to "get over it." We may find even that our grief and loss have been transformed into a very precious gift.
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