Grief vs Grief
Fri 10 Sep 2010 Filed in: Grief Notes | Reflections
I was asked an interesting question yesterday that continues to tickle my brain. The essence of the question focused on the differences between experiencing a sudden and unexpected loss of a loved one (Matt) as opposed to the loss of a loved one for whom I had cared and for whom there was the opportunity to anticipate the possibility of death (Joan). It is an interesting question, but for me it is a difficult one to answer.
There are, I suppose, some evident generic differences between those two kinds of loss. When one deals with the visible decline in the health of a loved one, grief begins before death because loss begins before death. However, stretching grief beyond the boundaries of death doesn’t necessarily make it shorter or shallower. On the other hand, the added element of shock when the death of a loved one is completely unexpected can be both a blessing of sorts and a curse as it provides both a degree of temporary anesthesia as well as an additional source of pain. But the reality of the loss and the challenge of adjustment remain. And when it is a son or daughter that has died, the loss is particularly painful.
For a couple of reasons I have difficulty answering the question. While generalizations are possible, it seems to me that grief is an intensely individual experience. Because of that, my grief journey and that of someone else who is experiencing almost identical circumstances may be markedly different. And those individual differences can be greater than the generic differences that could be noted between different kinds of loss. Those who do not recognize this truth are prone to place expectations on those who grieve and then wonder why those expectations are not met. (S)he should get over it or (s)he is handling that well can be equally inaccurate assumptions.
Additionally, I recognize that I am in the midst of processing these losses. I cannot be wholly objective in describing the journey; I can only be honest. Were objectivity possible, I’m not sure it would be either interesting or helpful. To describe the journey while one is in the maze of grief may be interesting to those outside the maze, but their own experience may be quite different. And so I am less concerned with telling others exactly where to turn left or right than with suggesting who it is they need to follow. The constant that makes joy possible in either kind of grief is knowing the unchanging, loving God of the maze. I cannot fathom how painful it must be for those who try to navigate grief, whatever kind it is, alone.
There are, I suppose, some evident generic differences between those two kinds of loss. When one deals with the visible decline in the health of a loved one, grief begins before death because loss begins before death. However, stretching grief beyond the boundaries of death doesn’t necessarily make it shorter or shallower. On the other hand, the added element of shock when the death of a loved one is completely unexpected can be both a blessing of sorts and a curse as it provides both a degree of temporary anesthesia as well as an additional source of pain. But the reality of the loss and the challenge of adjustment remain. And when it is a son or daughter that has died, the loss is particularly painful.
For a couple of reasons I have difficulty answering the question. While generalizations are possible, it seems to me that grief is an intensely individual experience. Because of that, my grief journey and that of someone else who is experiencing almost identical circumstances may be markedly different. And those individual differences can be greater than the generic differences that could be noted between different kinds of loss. Those who do not recognize this truth are prone to place expectations on those who grieve and then wonder why those expectations are not met. (S)he should get over it or (s)he is handling that well can be equally inaccurate assumptions.
Additionally, I recognize that I am in the midst of processing these losses. I cannot be wholly objective in describing the journey; I can only be honest. Were objectivity possible, I’m not sure it would be either interesting or helpful. To describe the journey while one is in the maze of grief may be interesting to those outside the maze, but their own experience may be quite different. And so I am less concerned with telling others exactly where to turn left or right than with suggesting who it is they need to follow. The constant that makes joy possible in either kind of grief is knowing the unchanging, loving God of the maze. I cannot fathom how painful it must be for those who try to navigate grief, whatever kind it is, alone.