Grief Is About the Living: What We Feel After a Loss

Grief is a lot of emotions rolled into one package.

Some days feel manageable. Other days, everything falls apart.

If you have ever wondered why grief feels so overwhelming, this is why.

Visualize a table in front of an open window. There are stacks of paper on the table. Tidy, organized stacks. A slight breeze comes through the window and rustles the papers; now a strong wind comes through and scatters the papers everywhere. 

The above image is what grieving is like. It is not steady or predictable.

Just when you think you are managing, a strong wind comes—and everything scatters again.

Each day, every day, you brush yourself off and begin again.

Grief from the griever's perspective is:

* I'm sad because you are no longer with me. You are gone—forever.

* I'm lonely. My loneliness is the result of isolation, of feeling alone.  I don't have the energy to reach out to others for support, comfort, or friendship. People tend to stay away from me. They are uncomfortable around me. Others are afraid they might say something that will make me feel worse.

* I am confused and adrift. My life has changed, and I don’t know where to begin or how to create a new one. My direction and focus have to be different now.

* I’m angry. I liked my life the way it was. Everything was good, and then you died. I’m angry with you for dying. Now you are gone, and I am the one who has to deal with everything. I am the one who has to start over. And now I feel guilty for being angry with you.     

*I'm angry with God for letting this happen. Why did this happen to me?

* I’m so depressed. My anger, which I often don’t share, turns into depression. Some days I can’t leave the house. Some days I can’t even get dressed. I either can’t eat or I eat too much. I either can’t sleep or I sleep too much.

* I’m frightened. We did everything we were supposed to do. We ate the right foods, exercised, did all the right treatments—and you died anyway. I realize now I am not as in control of my life as I thought I was. These feelings tell me that I, and those I love, could die too. A loved one’s death forces us to confront our own mortality.

 I’m sad, I’m lonely, I’m isolated, I’m confused and adrift, I’m angry, I’m depressed, I’m scared. All of these begin with “I.” Grief is self-focused. It is not about the person who has died—it is about how we are feeling and how our life has been changed. I don’t mean this in a negative way. It is simply how grief works.

Most religious belief systems teach that when you are dead you are in a better place. If we hold that belief, then we worry less about the person who has died. They are better off than we are.

Living is hard work, being dead is easy. I point this out because most of us think our feelings, our grief, is about the person who died. It is not. It is about us. About how our life has to change and how we are going to adapt to those changes.

We don't heal from grief. We don't recover from grief. We learn how to live with grief. Our life will never be the same again. But time, our friend time, can ease the pain.

Something More...

If you are experiencing new grief, My Friend, I Care: The Grief Experience offers gentle guidance for living with loss. Pay attention to the pages of "Do's and Don'ts" for extra support in your time of grieving. It is part of the End of Life Guideline Series bundle.

And if you want to better understand the bigger picture of end-of-life and grief, Knowledge Reduces Fear I  can help bring clarity to what often feels uncertain.