The Tenderness of Grief

Healing Conversations - Reflections Series

I woke up this morning feeling unusually sad. Not sure if it came from a dream, or the immense pain in the world. But here it is: the cusp of tears, the tender heaviness in my chest. I don't mind it, really. It feels true. And true is a relief from so much else that is swirling around. I know that what I am feeling is just a tiny fraction of what people are experiencing in Palestine and Lebanon, in Sudan, Congo, Ukraine, Haiti... in prisons and detention centers... in shelters and in hospital rooms… in the wake of hurricanes. There is so much grief in the world—both collective and deeply personal—so much loss as we grapple with the horrific violence and devastation around us.

I have learned that grief has its own rhythm. It takes the time it takes and cannot be rushed. It’s a process, not an event. Every grieving will be different. Grief is not one single emotion, but an ever-shifting composite including pain, fear, guilt, anger, anxiety, resentment, longing, blame, loss, sadness, shame, self-doubt, separation, loneliness, remorse, judgment, isolation, rage, hopelessness, confusion, despair, wistfulness, numbness, apathy, sweetness, gratitude, and even joy. It can be anything, and this is normal.

The first and most important guidance I give to people in grieving is to be gentle with yourself, and with others who may be sharing the grief—compassionate and patient, without judgement or expectations. In grief there are no rules and no “shoulds.” There is simply no point to them. Grief doesn’t care. Its waves will rise and fall, ebb and flow. Just like at the ocean, there will be “sneaker waves” that catch you unawares and sweep you into the depths. Ride the waves as best you are able. Breathe when you can. Ask for the support you need, when you need it.

Remember also that griefs have a way of threading together with one another, and events in the present can trigger grief and trauma from the past, even from the ancestral past. Sometimes it’s the little ones, the seemingly inconsequential ones, that unleash the torrent of stored and stifled grief. This is not a flaw; it’s an invitation for healing.

Ask grief to teach you how to walk with it. Listen to its wisdom and partner with it in fulfilling its purpose, rather than either resisting it or allowing it to take over completely. Receive your tears, when they come, as the sacred Water Element whose job is cleansing, purifying, and restoring. Call on the other Elements as needed to provide balance—Earth’s loving stability, Fire’s alchemy, Air’s fresh possibilities. Put your hand on your heart and send love to the hurting or frightened parts of yourself, and to the hurting and frightened parts of the world. What do they need in order to feel supported?

We may feel things less directly when they happen “somewhere else,” but in truth there is no somewhere else, no someone else. Our hearts are linked and we carry the weight of cumulative loss and suffering. As Alice Walker wrote in Overcoming Speechlessness: A Poet Encounters the Horror in Rwanda, Eastern Congo, and Palestine/Israel, “whatever has happened to humanity, whatever is currently happening to humanity, it is happening to all of us. No matter how hidden the cruelty, no matter how far off the screams of pain and terror, we live in one world.”  

The dominant culture teaches us to privatize our grief, to anesthetize ourselves through busyness, addictive substances or behaviors, consumerism, and distraction. Who and what does this serve? Whose agenda does it benefit? If we really felt the collective pain of humanity, of Earth and all our more than human kin, our hearts would break… or break open. Broken-open hearts can be vital to awakening our humanity, increasing our aliveness, and catalyzing change.

We need to grieve the harms, losses, suffering, and pain that we and others have endured—individually and collectively. To create supportive spaces to honor the wounds, listen to their stories, cry their tears, and release their fury. Only then can we integrate their wisdom. Only then is the energy that has been bound up in our places of accumulated trauma, the energy required to suppress the grief and numb our pain, or to stifle our rage, made fully available to living.

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Parts of this post are adapted from my forthcoming book.

Photo by Aaron Burden on UnSplash.