Transforming Grief and Being Transformed
Before you know what kindness really is, you must lose things… - Naomi Shihab Nye
“Mama, why are you crying?” our daughter inquired.
“I don’t know,” I muttered between sniffles.
“Because you’re happy?” our son asked.
“I’m not sure.”
“Because you’re sad?” our daughter wondered.
“Hmm, maybe both.”
I quietly left the room to be with the sadness that had emerged as they went back to playing on their tablets. (I cry in front of them plenty, but this one felt like a #techwin!).
It seemed grief had decided to pay me a visit. For what, I wasn’t sure. Maybe it was that my dad had flown back to Iowa the night before, or my heart was responding to the heartbreaking events unfolding in Ukraine…
The funny thing about grief is that it doesn’t always have a story - or meaning. Nor, does it always (ever?) announce when it will arrive. It usually just appears, seemingly out of nowhere - and everywhere - at once.
It’s easy to see grief as a problem to solve, isn’t it? To think and think about where it’s coming from, what you may have done to bring it on, or how to make it go away.
What I know to be true of grief is that it’s meant to be treated like a wave. Something you ride and ride until it crests. (Ideally, the ride is as safe and supported as possible — whatever that looks like for you).
Then, poof, you’re eventually on the other side.
What’s on the other side of grief?
While it can seem like the wave will last forever, or you’ll feel more miserable if you say yes to it, my own experience of grief is quite different nowadays.
After I left the kids’ room, for example, I cried and cried until the wave passed.
As it reached a point of completion, I couldn’t help but notice that more of myself - my senses & vitality - had come online. My tush sunk deeper into the couch, and I could hear the distinct melody of birds (were they singing to me / us / all who were grieving?).
I looked up toward the heavens and noticed the bright sky, the clouds appearing friendlier, more buoyant. I felt more connected to the 10,000 joys and sorrows of the world, the tenderness of my own heart.
Maybe Joanna Macy was right, “The heart that breaks open can contain the whole universe?”
Many of us inadvertently get stuck in a story about grief that makes us question or fear it (which we’ve no doubt adopted from the stories we’ve heard).
Don’t cry.
Stay strong.
Sadness is for whimps, AKA, the extra-sensitive (dramatic) type.
You’ll always feel this way if you let yourself feel it.
Grief is undeniably intense. We need to feel supported to marshal the bravery to face it, and, at the same time, not bite off more than we can chew.
I’m curious, what helps you move through sadness or grief with a little more comfort or ease?
Maybe some of the questions - reckonings - I’ve had will be of support to you:
What if grief isn’t a problem to solve, but a healing balm - a relief - for tired, caring souls?
What if grief is merely a response to one’s deep care and compassion for self/others/the world? Is it easier to empathize with a hurting heart when it relates to things you care about deeply?
Can grief help us find our way back to each other — remembering & reclaiming our inherent belonging?
And, a favorite from the movie, WandaVision, “What is grief, if not love persevering?”
Many of us learned in varying ways and degrees that softness and tenderness is NOT a good thing. But as I’ve been running my own experiment on grief, I’ve found the opposite to be true. Grief, when held with kindness and sensitivity to where we are on our journey, can help us become the best, most loving, and authentic version of ourselves.
Like a rain shower that brings balance to the earth and paves the way for new growth, grief has the power to transform - and be, itself, transformed.
May tender hearts ripple and rise,
Breon
P.S. Please know you’re not alone if grief is up for you these days… It may take a while to grieve what was lost over the last few pandemic-ridden years. If you need support tending or healing grief, feel free to schedule a 20-minute consult. It would be an honor to accompany you & explore / refine how best to support your healing.