Before my husband, Brad, died, I knew very little about what it was like to lose a loved one. According to the movies, you sent a sympathy card, showed up with lasagna, and after a year, it was back to life as normal.
Of course, now I know how messy and complicated grief really is. And how little those without lived experience know - like how the average Tuesday can be harder than the death anniversary or the fact that grief isn’t linear.
What do you wish others knew about grief? Share with us in the comments so we can help shift the narrative of what grief is really like.
This is a great question. I think of all the things I wish people understood, I most wish that people could carry more of the emotional labor— I think most people just accept that you feel shitty so they leave you alone— they make assumptions that you need time alone, because you don’t have the bandwidth to explain yourself, so it might appear as a preference for self isolation (which is sometimes accurate!) but it’s actually exhaustion and dorsal vagal collapse/overwhelm. What I often most need is someone to just be with me— and be willing to be uncomfortable, be willing to tend to me by understanding that somedays I am not ok— and that’s ok. It’s an appropriate response. My life has been altered physically and emotionally by the Hurricane quality devastation that childloss leaves behind. I need someone who can show up ready and willing to help me sift thru the rubble, carry the heavy stuff, direct me at times back to the task at hand, feed me a sandwich and tell me when to take a break. Give me a high 5, a hug & tell me I’m doing a great job. A soft place to land on the days that beat you up.
Ooh all of this. I think you make a really good point about the fine line between self isolation and exhaustion/collapse/overwhelm, that sometimes even us, the grievers, don't know the difference. It makes me think about all the times I wanted to be alone and if that was really true or if I just didn't have the bandwidth to explain my needs (or the trust that anyone would/could actually fulfill them).
And yes, we all need a fairy grief mama to tend to us.
Dana, yes... I didn't know what I needed at times, it wasn't someone trying to talk to me about my grief 24/7, but then when I was alone I needed/wanted someone to just be in the same room not talking.. just being there.
I’m almost 3 months into my grief journey from losing my husband unexpectedly. I’m 35, and we have a 6 year old son. I wish that people understood the intense highs and lows of grief. Last week, I was a complete mess everyday. Any and everything wrecked me. I felt his loss so intensely, and that physical pain is exhausting. Yesterday morning I woke up and it’s like the fog has lifted and I’m able to laugh and talk/think about my precious Cole without becoming extremely emotional. It gives us false hope, because I know the bad days will come again. Sometimes specific things will trigger it, but I’ve already learned that it can also come on without warning.
I also wish people understood how it changes you instantly. I will always feel like I exist in the before and after, and everyday I’m learning to navigate that and to determine who I am as a person now. What attributes are temporary, but also what changes are here to stay. Simply put, we need a lot of grace and prayers. 🤍
The highs and lows in grief can be brutal and exhausting, especially in those first few months (but really for a long time).
And I completely agree about the instant change. Everything being measured in the before and after. And grieving a person while also grieving that before version of yourself is so complex.
When I was at the same point in my grief, I loved the quote/saying - think Megan Devine says it. Something like - grief is like the ocean waves, sometimes they crash into you and level you - sometimes they are gentle and soft. I felt its such a great description of that early grief. I'll have to look it up because the more I think about it.. I butchered her words but got the meaning out.
I wish that people realized that after the first year, you're still "in it." It has been almost 4 years since my husband died and so many people seem to have, not forgotten, put it aside in the story of my life. Like it's a thing that happened, past tense. While to me, it's still (always?) such an active part of my life.
Yes 🙌🏻 this. I was going to write the exact same thing. We carry grief forever, it shifts and changes but it is constant touching every facet of our lives.
I am almost at the 3 year anniversary of my husbands death and it definitely has fallen off many people’s radars as it is “so long ago”
My biggest surprise besides how all encompassing the grief would be when Oscar passed away, was how I just couldn't deal with anyone else's grief. I had no bandwidth for their emotions, words, angst. All I felt at their expressing their own grief was anger, just wanting to scream in their face YOU HAVE NO IDEA HOW THIS FEELS. I knew in my head why I wasn't able to handle it, but my heart was so shattered any semblance of politeness was gone.
My sister (who had lost a husband also) said, you don't have to talk to anyone, call anyone, take calls, answer texts, allow visitors - it's not rude - it's self preservation and allowing yourself to set the boundaries with other so you can get what you need.
That makes total sense. When we are so shattered and sad and angry and stunned, we have no space for other people's needs (even those of other grievers!). And I love your sister's validation that not responding isn't rude, but self-preservation. I wish someone had given me that permission early on.
Something that has really stuck with me as a major change since Christina passed is how I feel like I fit into the world around me. Not in the sense of how awkward it is to be a 30 something widow, but how two and a half years later, I survive one moment just to move onto surviving another moment. I can no longer look at life and try to plan or build, I exist. I've tried to make plans, but just simply can't. The rest of the world seems to expect futures, but I don't see anywhere past right now.
I was just having a conversation with other widows about this - how impossible it can feel to plan, or even think, about a future. How even years into it, the future is full of fog and impossible to see. Just existing is a hard place to be.
There are so many things I wish others knew about grief, but I’ll just share what’s been most “up” for me recently. First, like Sally said, every single thing about your life change…like EVERYthing. Even the things and people that are still in your life from “the before;” it all feels different — relationships, emotions, belongings, places, experiences…there’s nothing the loss doesn’t touch. And second, I don’t know how long this lasts for (I’m 2 1/2 years out), but for a while it gets harder with time, not easier. Or maybe differently hard, because the grief keeps unfolding in new ways, the loss touches new things, reality sets in over and over, things come up in life that reveal new painful parts, the exhaustion from grieving so long makes everything feel harder — grief takes so much endurance.
This is a great question. I think of all the things I wish people understood, I most wish that people could carry more of the emotional labor— I think most people just accept that you feel shitty so they leave you alone— they make assumptions that you need time alone, because you don’t have the bandwidth to explain yourself, so it might appear as a preference for self isolation (which is sometimes accurate!) but it’s actually exhaustion and dorsal vagal collapse/overwhelm. What I often most need is someone to just be with me— and be willing to be uncomfortable, be willing to tend to me by understanding that somedays I am not ok— and that’s ok. It’s an appropriate response. My life has been altered physically and emotionally by the Hurricane quality devastation that childloss leaves behind. I need someone who can show up ready and willing to help me sift thru the rubble, carry the heavy stuff, direct me at times back to the task at hand, feed me a sandwich and tell me when to take a break. Give me a high 5, a hug & tell me I’m doing a great job. A soft place to land on the days that beat you up.
A mama. What every griever needs is a mama. 💛
Ooh all of this. I think you make a really good point about the fine line between self isolation and exhaustion/collapse/overwhelm, that sometimes even us, the grievers, don't know the difference. It makes me think about all the times I wanted to be alone and if that was really true or if I just didn't have the bandwidth to explain my needs (or the trust that anyone would/could actually fulfill them).
And yes, we all need a fairy grief mama to tend to us.
Dana, yes... I didn't know what I needed at times, it wasn't someone trying to talk to me about my grief 24/7, but then when I was alone I needed/wanted someone to just be in the same room not talking.. just being there.
Yes 💛
I love your last sentence. It truly sums up what every griever needs. <3
I’m almost 3 months into my grief journey from losing my husband unexpectedly. I’m 35, and we have a 6 year old son. I wish that people understood the intense highs and lows of grief. Last week, I was a complete mess everyday. Any and everything wrecked me. I felt his loss so intensely, and that physical pain is exhausting. Yesterday morning I woke up and it’s like the fog has lifted and I’m able to laugh and talk/think about my precious Cole without becoming extremely emotional. It gives us false hope, because I know the bad days will come again. Sometimes specific things will trigger it, but I’ve already learned that it can also come on without warning.
I also wish people understood how it changes you instantly. I will always feel like I exist in the before and after, and everyday I’m learning to navigate that and to determine who I am as a person now. What attributes are temporary, but also what changes are here to stay. Simply put, we need a lot of grace and prayers. 🤍
The highs and lows in grief can be brutal and exhausting, especially in those first few months (but really for a long time).
And I completely agree about the instant change. Everything being measured in the before and after. And grieving a person while also grieving that before version of yourself is so complex.
Sending you lots of grace and prayers 💛
When I was at the same point in my grief, I loved the quote/saying - think Megan Devine says it. Something like - grief is like the ocean waves, sometimes they crash into you and level you - sometimes they are gentle and soft. I felt its such a great description of that early grief. I'll have to look it up because the more I think about it.. I butchered her words but got the meaning out.
As above and; everything changes, financial, friendships, train of thought. Not one thing stays the same. Especially the capacity for interaction.
I definitely didn't understand this - the fact that every single facet of my life would change.
I wish that people realized that after the first year, you're still "in it." It has been almost 4 years since my husband died and so many people seem to have, not forgotten, put it aside in the story of my life. Like it's a thing that happened, past tense. While to me, it's still (always?) such an active part of my life.
Yes 🙌🏻 this. I was going to write the exact same thing. We carry grief forever, it shifts and changes but it is constant touching every facet of our lives.
I am almost at the 3 year anniversary of my husbands death and it definitely has fallen off many people’s radars as it is “so long ago”
I see you X
Such a good point - grief is active & the loss is active.
My biggest surprise besides how all encompassing the grief would be when Oscar passed away, was how I just couldn't deal with anyone else's grief. I had no bandwidth for their emotions, words, angst. All I felt at their expressing their own grief was anger, just wanting to scream in their face YOU HAVE NO IDEA HOW THIS FEELS. I knew in my head why I wasn't able to handle it, but my heart was so shattered any semblance of politeness was gone.
My sister (who had lost a husband also) said, you don't have to talk to anyone, call anyone, take calls, answer texts, allow visitors - it's not rude - it's self preservation and allowing yourself to set the boundaries with other so you can get what you need.
Hope this makes sense....
That makes total sense. When we are so shattered and sad and angry and stunned, we have no space for other people's needs (even those of other grievers!). And I love your sister's validation that not responding isn't rude, but self-preservation. I wish someone had given me that permission early on.
Something that has really stuck with me as a major change since Christina passed is how I feel like I fit into the world around me. Not in the sense of how awkward it is to be a 30 something widow, but how two and a half years later, I survive one moment just to move onto surviving another moment. I can no longer look at life and try to plan or build, I exist. I've tried to make plans, but just simply can't. The rest of the world seems to expect futures, but I don't see anywhere past right now.
I was just having a conversation with other widows about this - how impossible it can feel to plan, or even think, about a future. How even years into it, the future is full of fog and impossible to see. Just existing is a hard place to be.
There are so many things I wish others knew about grief, but I’ll just share what’s been most “up” for me recently. First, like Sally said, every single thing about your life change…like EVERYthing. Even the things and people that are still in your life from “the before;” it all feels different — relationships, emotions, belongings, places, experiences…there’s nothing the loss doesn’t touch. And second, I don’t know how long this lasts for (I’m 2 1/2 years out), but for a while it gets harder with time, not easier. Or maybe differently hard, because the grief keeps unfolding in new ways, the loss touches new things, reality sets in over and over, things come up in life that reveal new painful parts, the exhaustion from grieving so long makes everything feel harder — grief takes so much endurance.