The Stages of Grief
View from my father’s grave
Grief sounds like a simple word, but it’s a complicated progression. The definition is deep sorrow, usually from the loss of a loved one, but how that manifests in people varies. And that makes it a difficult path to navigate, both in yourself and in trying to help others.
As I mentioned in a previous blog, my boyfriend’s mother passed away last month, and her memorial service is coming up this weekend. And having gone through my dad’s death on this day six years ago, I thought I understood what my boyfriend was going through and, in turn, could help him with the grieving process.
And to a certain extent that’s true. I knew the burden he and his family would have to carry in terms of dealing with her estate and finances. Not an easy task while grieving, but one that has to be done. I remember wondering how others did it, watching my parents deal with their parents’ deaths while having to make various arrangements and take care of administrative tasks.
But when my dad died, I got it. I was immediately devastated, of course, but then a switch went off in my brain. All of a sudden it was “gotta schedule the funeral, gotta help Mom, gotta get things done before I go back home.” I was so grateful my mom and sisters were there to help tackle all the things that needed to be done. For we’d all lost a very important person in our lives, but as everyone knows, the world keeps turning even though yours feels as if it’s stopped.
So I was prepared for that aspect of things, prepared for the flurry of activity that often follows the death of a family member. But as I’m slowly figuring out, there are so many more pieces to the puzzle than the fact we both lost a parent. My boyfriend’s relationship with his mother was different than the relationship I had with my father, which adds a layer I’ve never experienced. He’s processing certain emotions from his childhood that I didn’t have, which extends throughout the rest of his family. In talking with several of his relatives last week, there’s a lot of complexity in their mourning.
And that’s the part where I’m still learning what grief looks like. In a recent conversation, someone likened it to the spreading roots of an oak tree, allowing for plenty of space for people to process memories and emotions in whatever way they need to. My inclination was to try and help move things along quickly, but my boyfriend simply wanted to be surrounded by family and friends to talk about his mom and get away from responsibilities for a while. And that I totally understood.
For that was the toughest part for me—returning to California where only one of my friends here knew my father. Getting back into my daily routine was rough and I frequently burst into tears, sometimes provoked by something that reminded me of him, but just as often nothing specific at all. And even six years later, it’s hard for me to start my next writing project, knowing that he won’t be involved. It’s the first time in my life that’s true, and it still hurts as much today.
But life is one long perpetual lesson, and as time goes on, I’m sure my thoughts and feelings on grief will evolve as circumstances change. For now, I’ll be there for my boyfriend for whatever he needs, just as he was there for me when my dad died. Honestly? That’s all you can do.