GRIEF: THE SORROW THAT CAN LEAD TO NEW LIFE

SORROW PREPARES YOU FOR JOY.

IT VIOLENTLY SWEEPS EVERYTHING OUT OF YOUR HOUSE, SO THAT NEW JOY CAN FIND SPACE TO ENTER.

IT SHAKES THE YELLOW LEAVES FROM THE BOUGH OF YOUR HEART, SO THAT FRESH GREEN LEAVES CAN GROW IN THEIR PLACE.

IT PULLS UP THE ROTTEN ROOTS SO THAT NEW ROOTS HIDDEN BENEATH HAVE ROOM TO GROW.

WHATEVER SORROW SHAKES FROM YOUR HEART, FAR BETTER THINGS WILL TAKE THEIR PLACE.

(RUMI)

Another word for sorrow, is grief.

Here's a few things I've learned about grief over the years - my own and the grief I've encountered in the people I've supported (and learned from) as they worked through their grief. 

Grief is a natural, normal response to loss. 

Loss is a fact of everyday life. Life is about loss; how we encounter and deal with our life's losses has a major impact on the quality of our lives. 

It must be said again and again: grief is normal and natural. It is not a sickness. It is not something that needs to be treated medically. It makes me very sad to hear from people that they have been prescribed antidepressants when they are grieving. 

The suffering of grief is not the depression we want to call clinical. When we do that we are pathologizing the core of our human experience. 

The suffering of grief is about being human. It is about the depth of love. It doesn't need to be treated. Above all, grieving people need to know they are not alone and that there is a way through the pain of loss. They need to know their love and loss can be transformed into something new.   

At it's core, grief is relational. It is about meaning.

The depth of one's grief is directly proportional to the meaning one, perhaps unconsciously, has placed in the relationship that has been affected - the relationship that has been lost.

Here's what I mean by that. 

If I lose a cheap object - say a pen: my experience of grief is very short, maybe a few seconds. "Oh, I lost my pen. Where's another one?" There has been little or no meaning invested in my relationship with that pen.

But, if I lose a pen my children gave me for father's day - a unique, wooden, multicoloured ballpoint pen, chosen with care and love, my experience of loss is deeper. That pen had some meaning to me and my life. (You guessed it. I really did lose such a pen.) Of course I don't collapse into tears when I think about it, but thoughts and feelings of sorrow do come up - even years later, "I wonder what happened to that pen?" The experience of loss - of grief is a little deeper.

The same thing holds true with our relationships with people. The meaning of the relationship is directly proportional to the grief we feel at its loss. 

Say you're in a store. If you stop and look at the cashier for a few seconds just before you leave and say to yourself, "I may never see that person again." You probably won't feel very much in response to such a loss. the cashier may be a lovely, warm and giving person, but you haven't invested very much meaning in the relationship with him or her. You may feel a little pang in that moment as you encounter the loss that reveals the impermanence of our reality. But beyond that you'll most likely go on with your day without giving it another thought.

But the loss of a relationship of greater meaning - through death, or moving or .... any of the thousand other ways people are lost to us, can create pain of great suffering. It touches us at the deepest level of our being. It can make us feel like we may be losing our minds. It may even make us question the meaning of life itself. 

The deeper the meaning in the relationship, the deeper the pain of grief when the relationship is lost - and the longer the grieving lasts.

This the pain we dread. It is the pain of our existence.  

It is crucial to remember for yourself, or when trying to support someone you care about who is grieving: when a person is living through profound grief - the loss of a deeply important relationship - everything one does or thinks or feels is normal. (Grief is a normal response to loss.) There is no one 'right way' to do it - the only wrong way is to pretend it isn't there - or otherwise (consciously or unconsciously) not acknowledge the pain.

Grief cannot be avoided. It can only be gone through - at some point.

The other thing that must be remembered is that the suffering and sorrow of grief is a long journey when the loss in one of great meaning: a close family member, one's health - or a even a career. (I'll write more about this next week, because it touches on our cultural discomfort with grief.)

One more thing before I stop: Earlier on I said life is about loss. It's true. 

But it's only half the story.

Life is also about wonder and awe and the excitement of anticipation - and all the other thousand experiences that bring us joy. 

The challenge we must acknowledge and face is that joy and sorrow are always with us as two sides of one reality. They complete one another. There is no joy without sorrow. 

That is the truth that defines the word relationship. There are always at least two parts to it - two participants. 

It is also the truth of love and meaning. The greater the depth of love, the greater the joy. And the greater the sorrow at its loss.

To paraphrase Kahlil Gibran: When we love, we experience it's joy - and we laugh all our laughter. But when we love we also - cry all our tears. 

That is the fullness of life.