Anyone who lives on planet earth for a period of time cannot escape the grief that accompanies the death of a loved one. For many of us this pandemic has challenged our capacity to process grief as funeral gatherings can become super spreader events. I’m deep in the feels and mental state of grief right now. On Friday I received an email about the death of a beloved sorority sister who had not publicly disclosed the depth of her illness. The month before, a former student who had worked in my office from her freshman year through graduation fell to her death while free-climbing in Peru. And then, all week our media conjured up the images of 9/11 in preparation of the 20 year anniversary. Death is inevitable but how we handle grief varies from person to person.
I realized early on that if I choose to love people, I was also choosing eventual periods of grief. I determined for myself that loving others was the very essence of my existence and so I would love anyway and that I would give myself fully to those I love, knowing that the deeper that love, the harsher the grief. Admittedly, it is a risk that fills me with fear. And the only thing I truly fear in this life is the death of my loved ones. Given the inescapable tragedy of love and loss, I developed my own philosophy around death and a method for myself to deal with grief.
I’ll start with my philosophy. Admittedly, the better word would be mythology because philosophy is based on rational investigation and mythology is based on unproven beliefs. As an academic I prefer the word philosophy even though the things I tell myself and act on regarding the deceased are based on a collection of religious teachings, world views, and personal experiences. At the foundation of my belief is that we are souls residing in temporary, highly vulnerable bodies. I believe some people are new souls and others are older souls. I believe the soul is the lifeforce that never dies once it is breathed into existence by God. I tell myself that the soul of my loved ones continue on as either a part of that cloud of witnesses, in darkness awaiting judgement, or as a newborn human being. At times, I’m convinced that my soul was here before. I truly hope that when I leave this body this time that I get to become part of that cloud of witnesses. So, if this is what I believe, why is grief such a big deal?
Grief is about the living having to deal with the pain of losing an emotional and physical connection with a person we’ve grown attached to. I’ve decided to celebrate the passing of loved ones who have enjoyed a long life. After age 80 I only smile and feel a sense of gratitude for the presence of that person in my life and an appreciation for all they have experienced of life. I refuse to grieve the passing of people whose presence on earth has only caused pain and suffering to others. Admittedly, my “mental” pain is lessoned a bit when death means that a suffering loved one is no longer suffering. However, I can never escape the emotional grief caused by the premature death of decent people I love, even when their suffering has ended. Although it does not make grieving any easier, I’ve come to understand the roots of my grief and how to deal with it.
It starts with my belief that once a soul enters a physical body at birth it takes time to learn about oneself and the world, to develop capabilities within the limits of that body, to form social attachments, and to eventually contribute to society. Along the way, there is so much to experience and enjoy in the world. Early death short changes the potential for joyful life experiences, thwarts purpose, and robs loved ones of an important human connection. There is much satisfaction in finding and fulfilling purpose and experiencing life that when that process is cut short, it just feels so wrong. Part of my grief is empathizing with disappointment on behalf of the person who passed away and the other part is missing the connection with that person. Even if a soul returns, they will never again return to the same body. The genetics, the cultural society, the family situation will all be different and hence a different person will emerge.
So, today I am mourning the passing of my two friends who died too early as well as the innocent lives loss on 9/11. I’ve learned to allow myself time and space to process the thoughts and emotions that emerge. Sometimes the emotion is frustration. Sometimes it is anger. Other times it is just an aching sadness that causes a lump in my throat and uncontrollable tears. Sometimes the dead person appears in my dreams for a conversation. Often, it is a heartwarming memory of that person and a sense of gratitude for what they added to my life, what they contributed to society, what they did experience, and what they accomplished in their short lifetime. Sometimes, upon reflection of who they were, I adopt some of the positive aspects of their lives, making me a better person. And other times, I’ve taken on a mission to eradicate the tragic cause of their death so that fewer people will suffer from similar circumstances. And at times, I’ve had to forgive the person that caused the death by making a fatal decision. And yes, sometimes it is the dead person who has to be forgiven.
I’ve learned from the example of others not to attempt to short change grief by burying it, running away from it, or seeking revenge. The price paid for loving others is grief and it is a dreadful emotion that demands our time and attention and saps our energy. We must give it its due if we are to navigate it without getting stuck in the living hell that is resentment, depression, revenge seeking, or substance abuse.
For me, I’ve developed myths around death and life and I allow myself to feel what I’m feeling and to think what I’m thinking and to do what I believe needs doing. I allow myself these three things as part of the grieving process without time limits and without judgment. Love costs and the price we pay for loving someone may be grief.