Grief has a lot of components. And if you’re lucky enough to live long enough, a greater variety of those components will touch your life.
It might not seem like it, but those components will make you stronger.
This past summer I couldn’t sleep. I was dealing with physical stress; I was fed up with my vision issues; I was pissed off that I had so much exhaustion (and couldn’t sleep).
Since I couldn’t sleep I walked into the studio to work, to take my mind off of things.
To the left of the door are some photos of my college mentor. (In college I picked up a camera, some extraordinarily talented friends taught me how to shoot, and I spent several years pestering everyone I met taking their photo.) I stopped and thought, “I’m going to draw Bob.”
But I didn’t actually draw Bob—well that is a contour drawing of Bob, but I did something more than draw. I had a conversation with Bob as I placed all those lines. And that conversation helped because Bob has never really gone away.
That’s one thing you learn about losing people. Who they were helped make you who you are. You carry them with you.
For me it is of great benefit that my mentor was wise and sarcastic. (I do not do well with people who are “warm and fuzzy.”)
So standing there in the hallway sketching the contours of Bob’s face (without my glasses because they weren’t working anyway) I felt the sadness of loss in a wave, but then the connection. And then the understanding.
It was a multifaceted understanding that inventoried all the grief and disruption I was feeling for the past day, as well as long term. The understanding focused into what I can only describe as a peaceful gratitude.
In that moment I needed to be reminded to live in the present moment and see beyond the small and large difficulties of the day. I needed to feel grief to get this reminder.
All of this reaction happened simultaneously with a sort of montage of my time with Bob. And because he was always sarcastic with me there wasn’t any room for self-pity or sulking. Both of which are a total waste of time.
I believe gratitude is the one great gift of grief. Grief forces us to reckon with how we lived in each moment, how much we showed up, how much we absorbed, how much we allowed ourselves to be challenged to engage. Grief allows us to stand in a position of gratitude.
If you are in the midst of grief, whether it’s over the death of a loved one, or the loss of something physical or intangible, let the grief open you up to the gratitude.
It actually makes it easier to breathe. And then you can make a plan, take actions in the present moment, and go forward.
Grief and Remembrance
Tomorrow, November 11, is Remembrance Day. Spend it in gratitude for all the people who sacrificed so you could live a free life. What is the responsibility of that gratitude? How does it inform your actions?
I have been doing a lot of journal work lately on grief, and reading this is very helpful. Thank you, Roz, as always, for your wisdom.
Tina I’m glad to hear you’re using your journal to work on grief. And I’m glad this post was useful. I know you know you aren’t alone, and I know you know that things get easier, worse, easier…The journal lets me focus on the moments of joy that I had with someone. And what I learned with with my in-laws end of life was that showing up in the present moment ultimately got me back to joy and gratitude even in the midst of grief.
We can hold so many things at one time in our hearts it seems contradictory, but when we let go of the notion that it’s contradictory it makes sense. If we keep coming back to gratitude I think it makes our hearts bigger and able to hold more. Joy and grief.
Find a way to laugh today. At something new or an old fond memory.
Take good care of yourself.