Grieving Loss: As Much for Life as It Is for Death

For many of us, the world feels like it’s on fire right now. Everywhere we turn, our values and beliefs (as well as our rights) are being trampled to death by people who could not care less how profoundly  individuals suffer and struggle. Bully pulpit leaders who lack compassion and grace have become the norm, and our lives are being re-shaped by the constant chaos.

Individually and collectively, many of us are in a perpetual state of grieving as we try to make sense of this new society we find ourselves living in. And grief is an exhausting, messy business. Don’t kid yourself into believing that grief only applies to loss due to death; there are many types of grief, and I almost guarantee you are experiencing at least one of them.

For those of us who did not elect into power the current federal administration, we began experiencing anticipatory grief last November. We didn’t know what losses awaited us, but we knew for certain there would be a cost to the results of the 2024 presidential election. We wake up each day, dreading the headlines and stories of what new fresh hell we were relegated to overnight.

Some might be experiencing common grief, which is defined as an acceptance of loss that allows us to fulfill our daily duties, but not without difficulty.

Others may already understand that what they’re feeling is complicated grief, which persists over an extended period of time and interferes with carrying out regular, daily routines and activities.

Disenfranchised grief is what we may be experiencing because there are folks out there who feel that the events of the past 100+ days are to be celebrated. They don’t recognize that for many of us, the direction our country is headed is reason to grieve. In other words, our grief is considered invalid.

Depending on your circumstances, you may be dealing with inhibited grief as you try to suppress your feelings and just carry on with life as if the struggle isn’t real.

Cumulative grief builds when one experiences multiple losses simultaneously. For some of us, we are losing our jobs at the same time as we are watching loved ones be deported and/or relegated to second-class citizenship status. Maybe a medical study we were participating in has lost its funding, and we now have to live with the dire consequences of that. And in the background, we know that regulations that keep the earth’s natural resources safe are being stripped away. Organizations that keep us safe from extreme weather are being dismantled just in time for extreme weather season, further diminishing our ability to keep our families safe.

And we all are familiar with collective grief thanks to the COVID pandemic. Many of us lost loved ones to the virus. But even if you didn’t, you lost your freedom to attend school, eat out at restaurants, gather in groups. Every dimension of life was attacked and impaired by the pandemic. And while we have managed to return to a version of normalcy, the “new” normal imposed by this administration favors only a miniscule fraction of our country’s population. The rest of us are just left to figure it out and deal with it. As a community, we grieve.

There are other forms of grief, but you get the idea. So now what?

Each of us handles grief differently, and what “works” for some doesn’t work for others. Therapy/counseling is never a bad idea, but it requires time and money and a willingness to dig deep and feel the feels. If that sounds like too much for you at the moment, self-care in the form of meditation, yoga, exercise, or something that takes you outside your mind even for a short time can help. Make music. Make love. Make food. Make art. Make peace.

See a theme? Make! Create something! Plant seedlings to transplant later in the spring (hopeful!). Try your hand at journaling, or collaging, or painting. These outlets are often avenues toward processing your grief, and they can provide relief in both the short- and long-term.

Another option is to volunteer doing something you enjoy. Helping others often ends up benefiting you just as much as those you aim to help. It forces you to shift your thinking to focus on other people or on animals or the environment, or whatever. The important thing here is just to do something, even if you lack the energy and intent. Local grassroots organizations always need another set of hands.

I am in the process of building a Resources page on my Passages site, so check back there soon. In the meantime, don’t forget to exhale. And know this: You are not alone.

What Are You Afraid Of?

As I write this, I am looking out over our farm field to the fast-moving clouds that are sweeping the not-so-distant hills. Specifically, I am observing what I silently refer to as “Jesus light.” You know what I’m talking about: beams of light that shine down through the clouds, illuminating everything beneath and looking like the angels are about to break out in the Hallelujah Chorus. These light beams are radiant and mysterious and intriguing; I love them.

I am not a religious woman. As a death doula, I respect your beliefs and rituals, and if I’m with you in your final days, I will do everything in my power to ensure you get what you need spiritually. Some of you have a deep and abiding faith; others aren’t so sure of their faith but prefer to just wing it. There’s another demographic, one born of fear. The folks in this category aren’t particularly religious. They’ve never committed themselves to Jesus or a savior by any other name. They’ve lived their lives following a moral compass, but not giving much thought to what comes after death. And then, in their final days, fear takes over. What if there IS a god, and I have ignored him my whole life? Now what? Will I go to Hell? Is this gonna be scary? What will happen to me?

These fears take over, and it is not uncommon for people at the end of life to suddenly “find” God. Or at least religion. To each his own, but rather than make that major shift at the eleventh hour when you’re kind of busy trying to let go, I find it more useful to ask: What are you afraid of?

Most people, by the time death moves in, fear pain more than anything. The dying process. And that’s natural because hey, you’ve probably never been here before (though I’ve been reading a lot about near-death experiences…fodder for another Transitions entry). Guess what? You and I can talk about this fear—and any others—for as long as you like. Dying is a scientific process. There ARE answers to your questions. And sometimes, just knowing that everything you’re experiencing, though new to you, is also experienced by everyone else can quell your fears. I’ve never died (yet), but I have given birth. And knowing that billions of women throughout time and across millennium experienced the same pains and uncertainties as I, was its own kind of comfort as I pushed and breathed through contractions designed to tear my body in half. This collective knowing works for birth and it works for death.

We all will do death in our own way. And while fear is a natural part of it, it certainly doesn’t have to be a component for you. Give it some thought, and let’s talk. We cannot control all factors, but together, I believe we can create for you an experience that will be more comforting to you and your loved ones.