“Raindrops on Roses and whiskers on kittens.
Bright copper kettles and warm woolen mittens.”

You probably recognize those song lyrics from Sound Of Music. It is easy to dismiss that song as a bit of tuneful fluff with charming images. Another way of viewing it is as a gem of musical wisdom on how to survive the tough times of life.

It’s raining outside.  I’m sitting inside listening to the rain and pondering the essence of Nature as I watch the raindrops and leaves falling. Nature is so beautiful… and restoring. The rain brings regrowth and soon the trees will be green again. How do we know that? Because we’ve seen it happen over and over, cycle after cycle.

I recently wrote an article that dealt with insensitive remarks made by others. This time the camera of life will be a “selfie.” Note if any of these remarks resonate with your own self-talk.

First the common painful practice of “would of, could of, should of” comments that can really hurt. Here are a few examples:

It’s a common question: What is life like after two years of grief?

This question is similar to questions you might have asked earlier. What happens during the first year? What happens after one year of grief? What happens during the second year? These are markers of time, yet grief does not always know what time it is.

You are grieving, upset, depressed, anxious, feeling alone and lost while finding yourself in a maze of people. Some of those people are family, good friends, co-workers, neighbors — the myriad of human beings who inhabit your world. You used to be able count on them to lift your spirits, trade a smile, give a caring word. Now you barely recognize your life and the people in it. Some are avoiding you as though you had a contagious disease. Even worse are those who speak in a language that cuts right to the bone of your despair. Perhaps you have been on the receiving end of these gems of insensitivity. Here are just a few that you may recognize:

If you’re a current member of a HOPE group or an alum, do you remember your orientation at your first meeting? Many members, even a few weeks after that first meeting, can’t remember a thing that was said. They remember how they felt — the overwhelming emotions that virtually prevented them from speaking, and — also very important — the kindness and compassion of the therapists and mentor who explained the process to come. But what was said? No.

Acceptance — what does that even mean? How does acceptance even happen?

Will acceptance show up? How will I know?

What if I don’t believe there is acceptance? 

There are so many questions about acceptance and no easy answers. Especially acceptance of the loss of a loved one. When someone so important in your life dies, acceptance seems confusing and unrealistic.

Disenfranchised Grief

Have you ever experienced a loss so heartbreaking and no one was there to console you, to hold you, to hear you, to listen to your story, to cry with you, to help mend your broken heart? There was no Rabbi or Pastor to turn to, no group to give you a safe and non-judgmental place to mourn your loss, to heal your broken heart. This is what Disenfranchised Grief looks like. You feel utterly alone and silenced.