nodaybut2day

Can someone help me understand the nature of grief, or at the very least, explore it with me?

Today, I struggle with the grief I feel regarding the death of my grandmother. I don't quite understand why I feel this gripping sadness, because I knew her through long distance, only seeing her once every 2 or 3 years. She was however, an iconic figure in our family, directing traffic between many cousins, aunties, uncles, supporting those in need, sticking her nose where it didn't belong and sometimes being a real pain the rear. And yet, I grieve for her. Yesterday I visited a church for the first time in years, knowing she was a devout Catholic and feeling as though I could talk to her there. So I went and grieved. Or perhaps I grieve for us, those left behind, those who will feel the void she has left. I don't quite understand this because I haven't had to deal with death a lot in my life, and to be honest, I think I grieved the end of my marriage and the death of that dream slowly, painfully, over the course of a few years. There was no clear moment of "oh my god, it's over"...it was more like "oh my god, I'm so relieved I'm out of there".

Any insight from the wise members at SR?

catlovermi

I have a few thoughts about grief.

First, grief forces us to face the reality that much of the "control" we feel we have in life is, in fact, an illusion. Part of grieving is coming to terms with the reality that we control very little in life.

Second, grief is at its core processing through loss. Part of the loss is the perception of what we thought was "under control" (see above). Another part of the loss is the loss of the actual. And a third part of the loss is the loss of perception: loss of a dream, perhaps, of what we thought we had or what we had wanted to have.

Processing through loss is essentially adapting to change. In order to adapt to change, we have to let go of what was, what was perceived, what was hoped. And we have to accept what is. In the absence of any of those, we get stuck, arrested, in our grief.

I think it takes many iterations to process through grief, because grief involves so many things as discussed above. We feel progress or mastery of one aspect, then another wave of grief hits because a different aspect is still in play.

I think we can help ourselves by thinking about the above, and allowing ourself to understand that grief is unique for each person; each person has unique parts they must process through, master, and accept. So to put ourselves on a timeline, or compare our grief to anothers' is moot.

The key to grief is allowing ourself to go through each piece of the maze thoroughly, and to aim for forward progress but with an openminded schedule.

Those are my thoughts, for what they're worth.

CLMI

posiesperson

noday,

Grieving requires a set of skills, in my opinion. We gain those skills by moving through the experience using the tools we have, and growing wiser as we learn what might work best for ourselves. You have grieved much by moving through the loss of your marriage, and the accompanying dream, right? And grandmother was part of the "dream" of family, a key player in the interactions.

It sounds like you're doing a great job taking care of yourself, going into the church and honoring someplace that she loved. How beautiful. What are your views about what happens after death? Do you feel like you can talk to her? Does it appeal to you to set up a special place in your home with her picture, some flowers, a glass of water and a candle? Sometimes that's helpful for people. Sometimes it makes the presence of the person's meaning in your life more tangible in the midst of the loss.

When my grandmother died I swear I heard her talking to me, she just kept saying things and I had vibrant memories of certain events and places (like her long-time home). I ended up giving the reflection at the funeral, filling it with the stories I felt like Grandma had given back to me. You're already honoring her...is there anything else you need to do to honor your process?

Hugs,
pp

nodaybut2day

Thank you for your thoughtful responses posie and catlover. They've definitely given me food for thought.

Regarding honouring my grandmother further, as per the buddhist/vietnamese tradition, her picture will now be placed on the altar of the ancestors, which is usually placed in the heart of the home. The altar will be decorated with flowers, fresh fruit and incense. During family functions or spiritual holidays, the ancestor's altar is honoured and the family will pray before it. It saddens me a little bit to think of her picture up there, with those of other long-dead relatives I've never known...almost like she's already a memory and wasn't alive just a week ago. It also saddens me to think of her departure as the head of the family; she had such strength of character and managed to rally all the cousins, uncles and aunties around her.

I should find a picture of her and keep it with me...We don't do the ancestor's altar in my house.

Personally, I feel I can speak to her more intimately in a church. There's a beautiful replica of the Basilica in Rome right next to my office, so I can easily go for mass there during my lunch hour. I'm not Catholic myself, but I know she cherished her faith dearly and heartily believed that she would be in Heaven with her friends and family once she passed.

Thanks again for helping me process through this.

workingitout

I read your message and the memory of my father's death came back to me. He died on April 1, 1987. He was an alcoholic and a WW11 veteran who abandoned our family, (wife and four children) shortly after returning from the war. He had a good sense of humor and I thought it was just like him to die on April fools day. He would have appreciated the irony.
He had been living in a nursing home for the last year of his life and was sober for that short length of time. When they called me at 2:30am to tell me he had died I drove over to the home and while I was on my way over I wondered what a 48 year old son what supposed to think or feel about what had just happened.
He looked peaceful lying there and I guess this was the first time I had ever seen him looking that way. I knew he was terrified of dying because a few weeks earlier his roommate had passed and my father had that fear in his eyes when we walked into the room to see the fellow covered over.
Nothing happened for a few days after the funeral and then one day while at work I suddenly broke down crying and could not figure out what was happening. I called my board president who was a fellow member of my AA group and told him. He sent me home and told me to take a rest. I went to a retreat house and spent a few days in silence going over inner struggles. It seemed to help some.
It has been over 20 years now and once in a while when I read something like your message or some other trigger brings back the memories, I still feel the loneliness or the emptyness related to this man who was my father and I grieve for all the things which did not happen between a father and a son. Things which might have happened if only we both had not been stricken with this terrible disease of alcoholism.
Now I cherish the memories of his mouth organ playing, his wonderful sense of humor, his down to earth simplicity. He was not the best father in the world. Nor was I. But we all have our own path to follow and if his death taught me anything, it was to forgive the bad things and not to forget the good.
Thank you for sharing your grief with us.