Processing Responses to Death & Grief
A gully of confusion swirls at my feet; a tide of unstable ground momentarily shifting my equilibrium. So many kind and caring people have extended their love and warm regards towards me upon hearing of the death of my grandfather. I feel much gratitude for the genuine thoughts and sentiments shared. I am also struggling with declarations regarding death and grief that some people have thrust upon me.
When people offer me apologies, my general response has been “Thank you… And, I feel like it was a good thing. He was ready to go.” I talk about how my time in Memphis was a real celebration of my grandfather’s life and of our family. Many times people have responded with, “No matter how ready to go someone is, it’s ALWAYS hard. If you love someone and they pass away, it’s NEVER easy.”
The squishy ground around my being is doubt. I find myself doubting my experience. I notice that I want to tell about my relationship with him, defend the distance that was between us due to living far away and being two very different people, and honor the closeness that was between us due to our mutual appreciation of loving life and loving family.
In some ways, him being alive the last few years was harder for me than him passing. It has been challenging watching as his world got smaller and smaller (he’s a big guy in all regards) and he himself would say (not to me but to others), “I’ve lived too long.” I believe that he continued to live because he didn’t know anything else to do. He was an amazing survivor. He had a tremendous amount of determination and will. Living was what he knew how to do and so even as his body and mind declined and his abilities to interact with the world lessened, he kept a smile and hung onto living. I often wondered if he knew that he could die… that it was okay to also let go. Of course, he could have been fully aware and there were reasons that he needed to live a life that was less than what he desired for his last few years. Perhaps it was for others that he stayed alive. Of course I’ll never know. However, the belief that I carried that he was ready to go meant that many times over the last few years I’ve sat with the thought and feeling experiments of feeling as if his life were over. What would it be like if he died today? How would his passing effect the rest of my family, his loved ones, right now?
On August 20th my grandfather came over to my dad’s house for brunch with my dad, Cathy, Ryan, Melanie, Thomas and me. He looked beautiful in his orange shirt with white squares. And he looked tired and worn out. I constantly wanted to have my hands touching his soft skin… and did. Watching him eat breakfast was such a lesson to me. He put so much care and attention into each motion he made, trying so hard to make sure that his fork made it to his mouth. I sensed that his effort was for our benefit. He wanted us all to feel comfortable and to enjoy this occasion. He didn’t want to scare anyone or cause people extra work by needing someone to help him. So with determination and persistence, every bite made it to his mouth on a shaky hand and slow journey.
Early in the morning, while my hands were resting upon his shoulders, I began to energetically give my grandfather permission to die. Within my being I told him that it was okay to die; that he had lived a wonderful life and that if he was ready, he could go. I told him that we all love him so much and we love each other and will take care of each other and are here to support one another. If he wants to go, it is okay. We will miss him, we love him and if he is ready, we will be okay. I lived that morning as if it was the last time that I would see him. I lived that morning as a prayer in honor of his life and in reverence to his passing.
Three weeks later on September 10th my grandfather died. I’ve written a little bit about his last few weeks. I truly feel excited for him to be through this stage of being alive. My grandmother died 14 years ago. There is a part of me that is thrilled by the thought of them ‘being together again’ regardless of whether I believe in such a thing!
In this moment a new awareness arises. I have a life long habit of worrying that ‘there is something important going on and I am missing it.’ On a smaller scale, a habit that has existed since I was a much smaller girl, I wonder about what I am missing when I am in another room and missing a conversation next store. And on a larger scale, I worry that in my process of experiencing life, there are important lessons or sensations or feelings that I am not perceiving. So when people tell me that this time is hard and I’m not experiencing it as hard, I worry that I am missing something important… that there is something I should be feeling that I am not feeling… and even worse, I doubt my own experience. That's a dumb thing to do!
The last few months many people that I love have lost people that they love. Death and grief have been an integral part of my experience. One of the things that is so clear to me is that I feel a lot of pain and sympathetic animosity around the ways our culture responds to and deals with death, dying and grieving loss.
When people offer me apologies, my general response has been “Thank you… And, I feel like it was a good thing. He was ready to go.” I talk about how my time in Memphis was a real celebration of my grandfather’s life and of our family. Many times people have responded with, “No matter how ready to go someone is, it’s ALWAYS hard. If you love someone and they pass away, it’s NEVER easy.”
The squishy ground around my being is doubt. I find myself doubting my experience. I notice that I want to tell about my relationship with him, defend the distance that was between us due to living far away and being two very different people, and honor the closeness that was between us due to our mutual appreciation of loving life and loving family.
In some ways, him being alive the last few years was harder for me than him passing. It has been challenging watching as his world got smaller and smaller (he’s a big guy in all regards) and he himself would say (not to me but to others), “I’ve lived too long.” I believe that he continued to live because he didn’t know anything else to do. He was an amazing survivor. He had a tremendous amount of determination and will. Living was what he knew how to do and so even as his body and mind declined and his abilities to interact with the world lessened, he kept a smile and hung onto living. I often wondered if he knew that he could die… that it was okay to also let go. Of course, he could have been fully aware and there were reasons that he needed to live a life that was less than what he desired for his last few years. Perhaps it was for others that he stayed alive. Of course I’ll never know. However, the belief that I carried that he was ready to go meant that many times over the last few years I’ve sat with the thought and feeling experiments of feeling as if his life were over. What would it be like if he died today? How would his passing effect the rest of my family, his loved ones, right now?
On August 20th my grandfather came over to my dad’s house for brunch with my dad, Cathy, Ryan, Melanie, Thomas and me. He looked beautiful in his orange shirt with white squares. And he looked tired and worn out. I constantly wanted to have my hands touching his soft skin… and did. Watching him eat breakfast was such a lesson to me. He put so much care and attention into each motion he made, trying so hard to make sure that his fork made it to his mouth. I sensed that his effort was for our benefit. He wanted us all to feel comfortable and to enjoy this occasion. He didn’t want to scare anyone or cause people extra work by needing someone to help him. So with determination and persistence, every bite made it to his mouth on a shaky hand and slow journey.
Early in the morning, while my hands were resting upon his shoulders, I began to energetically give my grandfather permission to die. Within my being I told him that it was okay to die; that he had lived a wonderful life and that if he was ready, he could go. I told him that we all love him so much and we love each other and will take care of each other and are here to support one another. If he wants to go, it is okay. We will miss him, we love him and if he is ready, we will be okay. I lived that morning as if it was the last time that I would see him. I lived that morning as a prayer in honor of his life and in reverence to his passing.
Three weeks later on September 10th my grandfather died. I’ve written a little bit about his last few weeks. I truly feel excited for him to be through this stage of being alive. My grandmother died 14 years ago. There is a part of me that is thrilled by the thought of them ‘being together again’ regardless of whether I believe in such a thing!
In this moment a new awareness arises. I have a life long habit of worrying that ‘there is something important going on and I am missing it.’ On a smaller scale, a habit that has existed since I was a much smaller girl, I wonder about what I am missing when I am in another room and missing a conversation next store. And on a larger scale, I worry that in my process of experiencing life, there are important lessons or sensations or feelings that I am not perceiving. So when people tell me that this time is hard and I’m not experiencing it as hard, I worry that I am missing something important… that there is something I should be feeling that I am not feeling… and even worse, I doubt my own experience. That's a dumb thing to do!
The last few months many people that I love have lost people that they love. Death and grief have been an integral part of my experience. One of the things that is so clear to me is that I feel a lot of pain and sympathetic animosity around the ways our culture responds to and deals with death, dying and grieving loss.
