We often speak of grief as a shadow, but in truth, it is more like a collapsed star. Though the immediate light of what we loved has vanished from view, its immense weight remains behind – an invisible, unyielding force sitting in the center of the house, moving from room to room, settling where you least expect it. We find ourselves caught in its orbital decay, circling a point that no longer exists in the physical realm. Our daily steps feel weighted down by a ghost gravity that dictates the trajectory of every morning. We remain tidally locked to the absence, perpetually showing the same cratered face to the dark.
(818) 788-HOPE (4673)
Grief Support Groups Serving West Los Angeles, Encino and Agoura Hills
Grief Support Groups Serving West Los Angeles, Encino and Agoura Hills
Posts by Sheila Newton, LMFT
Imagine you owned a beautiful home where you found peace and contentment living there for many years. Suddenly, one day without warning or provocation, you found yourself with an uninvited and unwanted inhabitant invading the premises.
When someone we love dies, the brain becomes a house where grief takes over and sets up residence. It can feel as though our well-used furniture has been rearranged in the dark. We reach for a light switch, but it is no longer there, and we trip over the enormous emptiness left behind. This isn’t just sadness; it is a biological crisis where the mind struggles to map out a world that no longer contains a vital piece of its landscape.
There are many types of parent child relationships ranging from the most loving and supportive to the most troubled and conflicted. For the sake of this conversation, let’s start with the most loving relationship. Let’s say you have a son or daughter who couldn’t be more loving, understanding and supportive. They visit you, call and check on you regularly, they meet many of your needs, take you to your doctors’ appointments, make sure you eat, take your meds, take you on outings and see your grandchildren, family and friends, etc. They want to take extra special care of you because they don’t want any harm to come to you. They cannot even tolerate the thought of you dying on their watch.
Grieving is so very hard. No one knows how to do it the first time they grieve, so they fumble their way through it. And it hardly gets any easier with each subsequent loss they sustain.
When we experience the death of someone we love, it’s difficult enough wrestling with the fact that they’re gone. One of the aspects we aren’t prepared for is the impact of some of the secondary losses: having to move (and thus losing a home), loss of identity or financial stability, loss or cancellation of future plans and — the loss of the physical presence of another. In fact, almost mysteriously, “absence” becomes a powerful physical force.
When you’re living your life, you go about your normal routine as usual. Then when someone you love dies, surviving grief can feel like you’ve been transported onto a Ferris wheel in the middle of a lake. When you’re up high, you feel like you’re on top of things and have some measure of control. As you descend, your view and perspective changes. So do your emotions and your coping strategies. As you gain momentum plunging downward, you can feel an unraveling dread and a rise in panic. Suddenly, you’re totally submerged in deep water, much longer than you care to be, struggling for your very breath. Then the realization hits you. You’re drowning and you don’t know what to do. You don’t even know how to breathe anymore… You are at a total loss.
In this context, the term uncoupling can be applied to anyone who has had a deep, meaningful relationship with a significant someone who has been a source of support and shared an enduring special connection — and lost them through death. This includes spouses, partners, close parent-and-child relationships, siblings (especially twins), cousins and best friends.
Like a thick veil slowly descending, blanketing itself over you and obscuring your vision, you can’t help but give in to the weight of its powerful effect. These are times when you cannot think, cannot feel, cannot see or eat or speak. The death of a spouse, child or anyone that you love dearly can leave you in this experience. No one wants to be in this place, especially not you.
Grief is an ever-running stream, flowing fluid and unyielding. It twists and turns, it ebbs and flows, backs up and it gushes forward taking no prisoners as it surges on. It is an uninvited intruder in our lives, a force of nature that commands respect. You can run from it, you can hide, distract, ignore or even fight it. At some point, however, you will unwittingly give it your maximum attention. It will be your reckoning. Grief is the staggering unwanted mandatory tax you pay for losing someone you love.
When your loved one dies, it may literally feel like it takes your breath away. You begin an odyssey that you don’t how know to navigate.
Shock and numbness prepare you for the journey as you plummet into a swirling dense fog of despair, an unfamiliar reality. The life you shared is no more. This is a forever loss and so begins… the eclipse into darkness.
The power of Rossmore’s strength came from the articulation of emotions in the silence. For many days and nights, he sat by Tracy’s side as his best friend sobbed over the death of his beloved wife, Lila. No stranger to grief, Rossmore was weeping from the inside over Lila, whom he loved dearly. He was conditioned to live in the here and now as a way of life and it had served him well. Focused 100 percent with undivided attention, he was here for Tracy at the worst time of his friend’s life.