Companion in Grief: Comforting Secular Messages for the Daily Journey Through Grief

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PREFACE

To those of you in grief, I have hurt too. I hope you find comfort and help in these pages. While writing this book, I was sometimes asked about my current project and my answer was usually met with uncomfortable silence. I thought, They probably don’t understand why I still think about grief so much. Someday, they’ll know grief too, and I’ll have a book to hand them in the thick of their pain. But then I realized there was a chance some people might never need it. In that way, I’ve been fortunate and so have you. We have loved someone deeply. That is a magnificent human experience that not everyone has. I’m sorry we suffer, but I’m very glad we’ve loved. May these words support you as you heal.

Trevy Thomas

January 1

Mysteries Of Death

A death turns you toward another world, a mysterious unknown planet. It is something or someplace we’ve never been, and yet, one by one, all those close to us disappear into this mystery. One day, so will we. You can go about your daily life living it as you did before, ignoring that other world as though everything were still normal, but you won’t be able to help looking over your shoulder. What’s it like there? Is there a there? We can’t know for certain, but my experience imagining this place that lies just out of reach is that it feels light. We tend to think of unknown mysterious places as dark and fearful, but dreams are also other worlds filled with visits to mysterious places we’ve never been and there is light in dreams. Maybe there is light in death too.

January 2

Progress

There is an irony to progressing through grief: you will take steps back even as you continue forward. In grief group, we used to say that we were jinxing ourselves by declaring that we were getting better. It often seemed that the minute one of us felt that way, we were dragged back a day or two or three into the depths of despair. It felt like punishment for feeling hopeful, beginning to see the light. But falling back into pain is, in fact, a part of the healing process. We do have to feel grief in order to heal. I don’t know why that’s true, but it is for most of us. It would be intolerable to remain in a steady state of intense emotional pain in exchange for getting it over with all at once, so reprieves from the worst of it are necessary. Those resting spots remind us that we are getting better. But so too should the periods of reverting to strong grief because they are opposing sides of the same struggle. It’s hard work, but it’s a normal part of being a human who loves. Accept that, notice the good days along with the bad, and trust that you are moving in the right direction. The sun is going to shine again, and you’ll make peace with this transition.

January 3

Death Is A Part Of Love

In marriage, you live every day with your partner knowing that someday it will be over. When you’re young, this awareness is distant, fleeting, surreal. As you grow older, it becomes a more relevant fear and is accompanied by worries about who will leave first, how, and when. The who first part vacillates between the lesser of two evils: being left behind or being the one doing the leaving, and there really is no lesser of these two evils. This scenario, as depressing as it is, is what happens when things go right. Sometimes it turns out in a way that is bereft of even ordinary expectation and you’re left widowed at a young age, before you’d had a chance to be fully seasoned by the preparedness of worry. Or a freak accident of circumstance could take you both out together, but this, too, is a less-than-perfect conclusion to your pairing because it leaves your family unit orphaned. Who will be the keeper, the distributor, the caretaker, the griever, the comforter of what’s been left behind, including children and pets? There is only one thing that alleviates these fears in me and that is the awe that it’s possible to experience such a powerful bond with another human being. We boldly choose love, knowing full well that it will be shadowed by death. Some of us even choose it again, after having already experienced the pain and fear for which we’re ultimately volunteering. A life spent alone also occasions worry about our own demise, but it’s not doubled by fear of the loss of a life partner the way it is when we choose to share our lives. If your path has taken you through the shade of a large cypress tree, keep moving, treasuring the sunlight behind you, and trust that you will reach warmth again on the other side of this darkness, even if you can’t yet see beyond the shadow.

January 4

Ordinary Life

How do we go from our worst experience back to a beloved, ordinary life? I learned of a true story about an orchestra performance in Leningrad in 1942, during World War II, where all the musicians were starving to death. Three passed out or died during rehearsals, but the rest continued to show up because of the promise of food vouchers if they performed well. Some of them died in their seats during the performance. How do you go from surviving that inhuman experience back to a routine life? I can’t imagine how the starving musicians mustered the stamina to sit in their orchestra seats and play the unfamiliar piece. This story reminded me of the way grievers feel when they realize they are expected to return to ordinary life a week or two after a tremendous loss. They are stunned into an indescribable darkness. It seems that moving in any direction will surely lead to an even bigger hole. All we can do is step forward without knowing the way. There are no answers for now. One small step back into your life is how you begin. Eat dinner, drink water, sleep, repeat. Gently press on.

January 5

Feeling Homesick

There is an element of feeling homesick when you’re grieving. You want to go back home to the safe place where you used to live before loss happened. That place of home was a person, and what you want to return to are those arms around you, the smile upon you, the beautiful eyes you could relax into like no others. Death ripped this person away from you and there is nothing you want more than to have them back. It is dumbfounding how you could be expected to just proceed with life in some way given this horrible change. Be gentle with this pain now. I, too, have experienced a terrifying loss and couldn’t make sense of anything for a long while. Trust that it will get easier, better, softer, more comfortable to live your life again even though you may not want to yet. Take a deep breath, and when you exhale, imagine blowing out every painful thought with it. Fill your belly, your mind, your heart with air, then let it empty. Pass the time with simplicity. For now, that’s all you have to accomplish.

January 6

The Good Ahead

We develop a picture of what our lives are going to look like. This vision is based on a reasonable expectation of longevity, along with hopes for a certain degree of life quality. Maybe you envision living to a certain age, maintaining your health, growing old with loved ones near, getting better at and enjoying your work, having children (or not), setting up a home of your own. Sometimes life cooperates with this plan, which reinforces our expectations, and sometimes it reaches into our script and cuts out entire chapters. When someone we love dies before we’re prepared, we come to grief unexpectedly. If it’s so possible for our lives to be turned upside down by a tragic surprise, maybe it’s also possible to grow out of grief in unexpected ways. Perhaps our future holds loving surprises for us as well, filled with the strength of supportive bonds, gifts of creativity and new life, joys and pleasures we haven’t yet imagined. These are not replacements for the love we’ve lost, but they’re gifts that keep us nudging forward rather than always looking back to what’s gone. Look for the unexpectedly good. It’s a way of moving forward through grief with grace and love for the adventure that is life, a good life with surprises in store we never imagined.

January 7

Companions In Grief

On your most difficult days, it seems everyone around you is walking in the light and you alone are stumbling in a kind of permanent dark. Why have you been selected for this suffering, and how can everyone else go about their lives with their trivial problems and extraordinary happiness? I think this feeling—which is an honest one in grief—is what led me to seek out others who were also suffering in the same way. If I had to be in a dark room, I didn’t want to be there alone. I wanted my people, too, the ones whose problems were not trivial, the ones who’d been selected for this agony alongside me. I still resented what I’d lost and how foolishly I’d taken it all for granted, but at least I wasn’t the only one. This companionship in darkness helped me to see it as a natural phase of life, a room we pass through, rather than being singled out for suffering. In time, a spotlight will grow larger and you’ll emerge from the dark of that room. It’s as necessary a part of life to step out of the dark as it was to walk into it. When it’s time, be willing to make room for the next griever to enter this place as you return to lightness.

January 8

Death And Uncertainty

The experience of death so close to you is deeply disturbing in ways you may not have expected. Your pain in grief begins because of another person, and yet it becomes about your own mortality too. How can someone be here one day— putting on a coat, talking on the phone, laughing at television—and then simply be gone like a puff of dust disappearing before us? It’s surreal, and your thoughts will turn to the question of what’s next for you as well. You may not have thought much about your own death or fears you may have about aging and what will become of you near the end of life—or even after it’s over—but these thoughts are likely to creep into the sudden quiet around you now. They’re questions that have always been waiting in the wings; death didn’t cause them, it just called us to a closer examination. Slowly, take tentative steps into uncertainty. We all live with it even when the busyness of our comforting, ordinary life goes on around us. Do you know where you’ll go, when you’ll go, how you’ll go, or what it will be like when it’s over? Do you know any of that with certainty about the one you lost? Remember that the love you experienced on earth with your loved one happened amidst this very same uncertainty, and you can expect that the strength of that bond will continue now, even beyond death. Take comfort in the sun rising and falling with your breath just as it’s meant to until it’s time for you to move into the next realm. Love will comfort you through, and the magic in life will continue to surprise you.

January 9

Secret Language

Did you share a secret with your loved one? Maybe it was a phrase or a name you would only use with each other. It could have been a private thought you kept to yourself before you began sharing a life together. Then the security of love allowed you to be vulnerable enough to share it, and that silliness became a language between you. Your own words take on a new sound on your loved one’s lips. When they’re gone, the sweetness of the phrase slips off with them. When you catch yourself saying it again out of habit, it can feel like yet another reminder of the gray void that becomes your humorless companion. The words started as yours alone, became yours together, and now feel as though they were stolen along with your loved one. Let these words be the beginning of a shift in your relationship together. When a name or a phrase comes to your lips, think if it as a kiss from your departed, maybe not so far away.

January 10

Presence

The loss of a person is so strong at times that you feel alone even around other people. No other person is the one that you want, the one you lost, the one who was yours. While your pain is undeniable, this sense of owning or losing a person is an illusion. Even children don’t belong to us. It’s not up to us when they will enter or leave our lives. But you can call upon the presence of your lost loved one any time you wish. While driving alone in the car, lying in bed, walking, riding the subway, any time you need or want them near, you can begin a silent conversation in your mind. Don’t worry about whether it’s logical, particularly if you find comfort in it. We can imagine being together with the one we’ve lost after they are no longer on earth, busily being a human beside us. I did this frequently when my husband first died. Yes, I’d rather have had him with me, but I can’t deny feeling his presence any time I thought to seek him out. Maybe you’re not as alone as you think. They were probably not by your side every moment of the day while living, but now you can request that presence at any time. If you can set aside judgment, you may sense the nearness of your love the most when you feel alone. Take comfort in the meditative practice of inviting your deceased near you.

January 11

Weird And Unexplained

When my husband died, the clocks in the house stopped working. Not just for a little while, but permanently. The kitchen stove held the only working clock in the house. There was a newer clock in our bedroom which advanced two hours. No matter how many times I set it back, it pushed forward again. The wall clock stopped entirely. I replaced the battery, but it remained unresponsive. I noticed this on one clock just before he died, and the remainder I saw when I returned, two days later, from the hospital. What does it mean? It’s like all mysteries: not for me to know, at least not now. I chose to interpret it as a message from my husband in his passing—that time is meaningless after life, and that we will experience a different sense of time together in a world I’m not yet privy to. I hope to remain open to the quiet messages I receive from afar.

January 12

Savoring Memories

Some days you’ll receive glimpses of memories into the life you shared with your loved one. These glimpses can be prompted by an activity, word, scent, or sound. They fall upon you, much like inspiring pieces of creativity seem to appear out of emptiness. Write these tidbits down in a journal, just a few words that will serve as a trigger to take you back to that sweet place again. It will serve as insurance against the memory fading, and it can be a resource on days when you might need strength. Allow yourself to be in awe of how your memories can provide such sweet comfort, and how they simply appear before you like a film passing through your mind. For those trying to avoid the grieving process, these sudden memories might feel like a temptation to drop into depression. Don’t shut the door automatically on any memory. Step into it for a moment, allow yourself to see how it feels. You can choose not to experience it if it doesn’t feel right today, but don’t lose out on the gift of memories. Breathe in your memories, savor them, enjoy this ability to recreate the joy of a life in your history, and treasure your capacity to revisit it as a physical sensation in this way. Then open your eyes and carry forward. Savoring memories is a part of the healing process and it’s a beautiful experience. Use it often.

January 13

Silent Communication

Once we have loved someone who dies, we become aware of a new kind of communication. Regardless of our religious beliefs—or lack thereof—many people who have lost a loved one experience some form of communication with them. It happens through dreams, uncanny coincidences, words from your shared language suddenly spoken by a stranger, or just a strong sensation of their presence. It’s a link to that person that can’t be snatched away. Your love keeps you connected through a permanent bond. If you can remain open to the presence of your loved one, you may notice protection, like living in the shield of their love. Even amid my despair, I felt loved, protected, guided. Problems I could not imagine resolving somehow tended themselves. Skeptics may dismiss this experience in whatever way aligns with their beliefs but it’s useful to remain open to new possibilities now. If you can allow yourself to set aside doubts and simply be open to any form of communication or connection, you may receive a peaceful gift of loving guidance that will aid your healing process immeasurably. In all else that is work in grief, this sensation is effortless if you simply step into the realm of possibility.

January 14

Grieving Requires Bravery

If you’ve never thought of yourself as a brave person, grief is an experience that will change that view. You’ll take step after step into an uncertain, lonely future during an agony that causes you to want to return to the sweet, familiar past. The first morning I woke up in our marriage bed alone, I yelled to my sisters, I can’t do this! A panic had set in. I didn’t even want to place my foot on the floor. I could not face the unbearable feelings that were waiting for me, nipping at me from all sides in a torturous battle I was unprepared to fight. My sister said, Well, unfortunately, you have to. She was right. Despite being beaten by an unseen aggressor, I pulled my foot from the sheet, got up, and took the first step. That’s what bravery is, simply doing what must be done, behaving as you would if you felt better. Not letting the big, scary feelings take full control. Step by step, it makes us better.

January 15

Divorce

There is an enormous difference between the death of a spouse and a divorce. The pain and loneliness of being in a wrong marriage is quite different from the pain and loneliness of having lost the one you very much still want to be with. Both have their own kind of misery. Some find they can overcome the pain of divorce in a reasonable amount of time, while the fresh grief of a true love is probably just as strong in the second year as the first. Grieving after death is a long, slow process, and you may never entirely recover from the sense of loss the way it’s possible to mend from a divorce. However, the married bereaved will also find a companion in their grief that the divorced do not have benefit of: their love stays in their heart, holds their spirit, looks out for their safety, guides them. They only have to remain open to the quiet whispers of this newfound relationship. Loss is painful no matter what form it comes in, but the feelings that accompany different types of grief vary widely. Try not to make comparisons to others nor take in their assessments of your very different grief. Both types of suffering require compassionate support.

January 16

Busyness

Notice the temptation to remain busy. It’s true that staying busy serves a purpose for the bereaved: it keeps us so distracted that we don’t have to be fully aware of our grief twenty-four hours a day. But as much as possible, a sense of balance is critical. At this time when we are emotionally exhausted (and sometimes physically exhausted too), good rest can help us to feel self-nurtured. We are the only ones who can fully understand our pain now, and it is our responsibility to the poor, beaten souls we’ve become to take care of ourselves as best as possible. Don’t take on every responsibility that comes your way, even if you think you must. Allow rest,