Struggling with regret after a loss is an aspect of grief that many people experience. Take Eliot, for example (not his real name). Reflecting on his state of mind after his wife died, he said, “I have so much regret. I can’t stop thinking about it.” He was tormented by feelings of remorse and guilt. It had been over a year since his wife died, and his regrets had never abated. His wife had been ill for several years and, with help from caregivers, he took care of her. “I wasn’t present enough for my wife,” was one of his laments. “And sometimes, when I got frustrated, I wasn’t always nice. On the final night I left the room for a while, and she died. She must have wanted me there, and I wasn’t.”
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Posts by Martha Carr, LMFT
“Earth is perfectly placed in what astronomers call a star’s ‘Goldilocks zone’ where the sun isn’t too hot or too cold but just right. This advantageous distance has allowed life to flourish on Earth, with the sun bathing our planet in life-giving warmth…”
“Your loss was different,” my 97-year-old aunt Adair said. “You still had a lot of life ahead together when you lost Richard. Herb was 96 when he died.”
I felt a swell of emotion in response. The casual way she said it made the comment hit home like the obvious fact it was, one that hadn’t quite registered with me before so clearly.
I wrote this short poem about a month after my brother died:
My grief is like an ocean swell
rolling toward shore.
It rises but never breaks.
It came to me while sitting quietly during a yoga class, breathing deeply. There were swells of grief but no tears. The stillness helped me put words to my feelings. I had cried when he died, but then it subsided. Too quiet. Where was my grief?
Restorative: “Having the ability to restore health, strength or a feeling of well-being.”
Those of us who have lost a spouse or partner know how difficult the holidays can be. Celebrating at a family meal with an absent partner, or attending a party alone, may be particularly difficult. These special events, most often shared with your loved one over many years, can trigger deep grief. Perhaps your partner or spouse was the one who enjoyed hosting the party, who made it a special annual tradition that friends, family, and neighbors loved to attend. Now the quiet looms in front of you and the realization that it will never be the same, hits like a ton of bricks. It will never be the same. If you are lucky, you find joyful moments when surrounded by those who love and care about you. Your family or friends fill the some of the void, share the loss with you, take up the mantle or make sure you are included in special activities.
Shortly after my husband died, I woke to the sound of a garbage truck coming down my street on its routine early morning pickup. I usually dislike those noisy garbage trucks grinding away as they slam trash cans around, but now a sense of comfort washed over me. How strange, I thought, that such an ordinary thing helps me regain a sense of normality. My connection to the outside world was momentarily restored. I began to welcome trash days knowing that for a few moments, I would relax – something that had eluded me in those first months of grief. It was a small sense of relief, but with a noticeable impact.
Grieving the loss of a loved one is a difficult journey that everyone navigates in their own way. Your ability to cope depends on several things. First, your basic resilience and attitude about life. Second, your strategies for dealing with emotions. Third, your ability to ask for help and get social support.
Whether it is anticipated, unexpected or traumatic, the circumstance of the loss is also significant. Multiple losses, whether they occurred all at once, or come in quick succession with little time to mourn each one can overwhelm anyone’s ability to cope — despite your resilience, ability to deal with emotions or the extent of your social network. Suffering multiple losses is called “bereavement overload” or “cumulative grief.” Sometimes a surge of losses is just too much to bear. A recent loss, or even an expectation of another, may trigger all the pain of earlier losses, leaving you at risk of falling into incapacitating depression or “complex grief.” During such a time it’s imperative to keep several things in mind.
My husband was lost at sea. Sailing around the world was his lifelong dream. He bought the boat, retired, spent years preparing for the journey and set a date. I supported his dream but didn’t want to go with him. We both agreed that I would meet him at various ports, sharing in the experience that way. After six months cruising the Sea of Cortez (where I joined him several times) he took off solo for the South Pacific. He never completed his passage between Mexico and the Marquesas. Three weeks into his five-week crossing, he disappeared in the middle of the Pacific Ocean, hundreds of miles from any landmass in one of the most remote places on earth for search and rescue. I never got to say goodbye.
When a loved one dies, we are faced with the stark reality that life is indelibly changed. It is a hard reality to accept, and it launches us into the grieving process. We mostly think of grief as a journey through sadness, fraught with a myriad of struggles along the way – with feelings of helplessness, exhaustion, stress, anxiety or loneliness as our travel companions. We wonder how long it will take until the pain subsides and if we can ever get on with our lives. It is helpful to remember that grieving is a healthy process, one we are wired to go through after a profound loss. Sometimes people think of grieving only as something to get over. But, unlike an illness, we don’t get over it — we go through it, resolving our feelings about the loss gradually.