Do you know how every once in awhile, there is a death that seems so wrong, so unfair, that it just seems to stretch the fabric of what is real? The void left behind a loss like that is fathoms deep; it’s one further than any engineer could begin to bridge. I imagine that many of you have had a loss like that, and perhaps are still feeling unanchored, unmoored, and unable to make sense of it. For me,that loss was my mom. At her wake, neighbors described her as a “ray of sunshine”. A “bright light”, her friends said. The priest cried.
I mean, if that tells you anything…. The guy does funerals for a living and he was inconsolable.
Amidst all of this love and the many personal connections lost to this extraordinary human, I couldn’t help but think that I somehow lucked out to be her baby, the youngest of the three children she built her life around. I liked to joke that I was her favorite, the most like her. She never confirmed it, but would smile. Her sunshine shone on me, in the most warm way, and that made me different than anyone else.
Through her illness it shone, even after the seizures and the cancer, she woke to give me a smile and a “hey babe!” When she died, it felt like that light went out. Who was I, without that warm glow?
Months later, I have been thinking a lot lately about grief, and stress. More specifically, thinking about the levels that our nervous system rises to when we need it. Back in the worst times, I remember feeling as if I was watching someone else when lifting her in the shower. After her funeral, a feeling like none of it was real and in fact, very separate, from my body.
They tell you about complicated bereavement in graduate school, and grief is not new in my life or in the lives of my friends, loved ones and clients. Loss has always been present for me. I know I am grateful for the time we had. But never, never has grief hit like this.
So.
What now?
How can anyone even begin to see through the fog when trying to decorate for the first Christmas, St Patrick's day, Easter? How does that matter anyway, except that there are children with new memories to be made.
So what is the beacon for those of us stumbling through? I know I’m not alone, walking this lonely path.
I’m offering this blog to anyone grieving a loss right now; your loss can look different or similar to mine. I believe there is no comparative suffering in grief. You may be thinking of a partner, parent, child, childhood, a grandmother, pet, friend, or job. Loss is loss, and it can rock us to our core. The experience of loss can feel like a trauma response, and remember, our nervous system only rests in connection, feeling grounded in what/who we love.
Here is what I have decided.
Through the fog, the sliver of substance that briefly lets me feel like my feet are on the ground is:
Connection. Purpose. Community.
I am not, in fact, unanchored. I have community in my friends, my daughters, my loved ones, my work. I care deeply about the good I do in this world.
Every time I make a choice that brings me closer to such a connection, my nervous system rests a little. I feel grounded, calm, secure. It feels warm, almost like that bright light and sunshine. And that’s something.