“You cannot prevent the birds of sorrow from flying over your head, but you can prevent them from building nests in your hair.”
~ Old Chinese Proverb
Every time I think I’ve mastered the art of grief — and it is an art, in that it’s intensely personal and wildly subjective — a new layer is revealed.
I know I write about it a lot in this space, but it’s not just to spill ink on a topic of personal interest. Grief and loss are universal to the human condition. They are not, however, universally examined or discussed the way, say, “love” is endlessly analyzed. There is no holiday set aside for grief, complete with chocolate and sappy cards (although, perhaps there should be!).
I’m now experiencing something called “ambiguous loss,” akin to what we see when a parent has dementia, or in cases of severe addiction or mental illness, incarceration, kidnapping or acts of war. It’s grief for someone or something that is gone from your life, but there’s no traditional protocol for processing the loss. Worse, somewhere in the back of your mind is this fanciful notion they might come back to themselves, return from the void, or otherwise be restored to their previous condition.
Ambiguous loss or grief can also stem from a loss of health, the end of a relationship, or the loss of a home or a job. Even retiring, downsizing, or sending your kiddos off to college can be felt as an ambiguous loss. The emotions experienced are the same, but it’s very difficult to acknowledge and process a loss that’s not defined by an actual death.
Why does it matter? Because getting stuck in unprocessed grief of any kind is debilitating and unhealthy. We all know people who have been fundamentally changed — negatively — by death or loss, yet we tend to avoid discussing the grief process because it makes us uncomfortable. We don’t know what to say, or how to say it, or if we should say anything at all. And yet, grief is something we all have in common…if there’s anything in the human condition we should be well-versed in and able to talk about, it’s grief.
Whoever those folks are who make up holidays, maybe it’s time we send them a memo.
By NIKI TURNER – editor@editorht1885.com
