Loss and Grieving

Coping with the loss of someone or something important is one of the most difficult tasks a person can face. It is in our nature, after all, to get attached to things; and, to put it clinically, when the object of our attachment is gone, we suffer. Its absence leaves what feels like a gaping void in our hearts, and the grief can be overwhelming, all-encompassing.

We get attached to people, places, and things. We get attached to our routines, our opinions, our beliefs, our goals, our homes, our lifestyles, our expectations.

It's almost as if we're lined with an adhesive, we get so attached to things.

And that's okay.

Attachments really only become an evident issue for us when we experience suffering. Fortunately, the consideration of suffering is a road well-traveled by our forebears, and we can all lean on their wisdom and guidance for assistance. The Buddha, for example, addressed the matter of human suffering in great detail. Regardless of your religious or spiritual identity / orientation, and even regardless of whether you believe in a higher power, are agnostic, or are atheist, The Four Noble Truths are useful guides in view of suffering. I recommend taking a look at them.

I'm not here to promote Buddhism, though. I'm here to talk about what it feels like to lose something, to grieve, and to heal.

Loss can make one feel utterly empty. It can feel shocking, unreal, and overwhelming. Loss can incite feelings of incredible sadness and longing. It can feel as if one's entire world has ended, and has been swallowed up, furthermore, by some deep and terrible void. It can feel like it's never going to end, and that there's no hope. Chances are good, actually, that a major loss will incite any combination of those experiences in a person. 

Grieving -- something which follows and emerges from loss -- is a process. And as with any emotional process, it's a safe bet to expect some tumult; that is, a person who is grieving will probably experience a wide spectrum of feelings, and will very possibly be on the proverbial emotional roller coaster. What's more, each person's grieving process will "look" different, and will span any number of days, weeks, months, or years, even.

Are you familiar with the concept of the Five Stages of Grief (as articulated by Elisabeth Kubler-Ross)? They can be a useful guide for better-understanding the grieving process. One thing I learned, though, is that the stages do not necessarily occur in order. Oftentimes, a person who is grieving will, for example, experience several stages simultaneously, or will revisit stages as time goes on. That fluidity between the stages is important to keep in mind, because it can otherwise be very confusing and disappointing if one finds themselves "regressing."

Another important consideration is that different cultures have different perspectives on loss and grieving. ("Culture," in this case, can refer to groups big and small, from entire populations on down to families.) There is extraordinary diversity among attitudes toward death, for example. There are rules and guidelines among different cultures, both written and unwritten, which inform the processes of grieving and letting go.

At any rate, that brings us to the question, what does it mean to heal in the wake of a loss? The thing that keeps returning to my mind around this question is a metaphor I learned as an intern mental health counselor:

Imagine your heart (not the organ; rather, your center of feeling) is a glass. When you suffer a major loss, it's as if a large, foreign object is uncomfortably wedged into the glass. What many people hope for is that, over time, the foreign object -- the burden of the loss, the pain and suffering -- will shrink. While that may be so, there's a better way to think about it: imagine that the glass, your heart, expands over time, thereby more comfortably accommodating the sense of loss.

I love that metaphor, because it's true: Loss doesn't entirely go away, but our abilities to accommodate it and integrate it into our daily lives do expand.

We cannot help but be indelibly changed when we experience loss. But we aren't forever diminished by loss, either. No. Instead, we are transformed by loss. If we attend to our suffering in a compassionate manner, we are transformed into beings with greater capacities for love, peace, self-knowledge, understanding, forgiveness, acceptance, and compassion. We are transformed into more complete versions of ourselves -- as if a layer of steam has been wiped off a window.

Thanks for reading.