They say it gets better with time and that time heals all wounds. It usually doesn’t work that way. There are things to know about grief and bereavement that people haven’t told you. In this video, I am talking about some of the most important things to know about loss, grief, and bereavement.
The following is a text version of this posting.
It’s an experience that many of us share. It happened to me … again. Within a little over two weeks, three people I’ve known for about 35 years died. None of them live near me. I didn’t have the opportunity to say goodbye. I watched memorial services online, which was a surreal experience. The ways that I knew these friends, the time we shared, our emails and texts, and yes, the personal nature and intimacy of our friendships were all lost to the sterile, formal nature of the memorial services. How does one grieve the loss of someone important to you when no one else recognizes the relationship? What about bereavement when losses are compounded and happen so closely together? People never talk about what these kinds of grief are like.
For some context, I find it helpful to consider grief and the experience of bereavement from two different perspectives. The first is grief that’s recognized. When a family member dies, we experience a loss that’s recognized. If you lost a spouse or partner, a parent, a child, a sibling, or someone else you’re related to, people offer expressions of sympathy. There’s social support, like bereavement leave from work. At the funeral or memorial service, you are seated in a recognized place and may have an official role in the service. But there are other losses that people don’t recognize. I view this as a second or different kind of grief. It’s called disenfranchised grief. The term was coined by researcher Kenneth Doka a few decades ago. Disenfranchised grief is the experience of a loss that society doesn’t recognize. For instance, society usually doesn’t value a close friendship. But our close friends have significant roles in our lives. We often share deep experiences with friends, sometimes things we wouldn’t share with our families. We have fun with close friends, confide in them, and look forward to the time we spend with them. None of that is recognized when a close friend dies. Most people think, “Well, it’s just a friend.” But the friend is someone with whom you have unique memories.
Whether a loss is recognized or disenfranchised, the process of bereavement is much the same. The difference is that in disenfranchised grief, you go it alone. People rarely give those in disenfranchised grief any support, simply because the loss is not even recognized. No one sends you cards or flowers. There’s no time off from work. No one recognizes or understands what you lost.
Added to that is this reality: it’s also not unusual for people to experience multiple losses. I began by sharing that in a few short weeks, I lost three long-time friends. People can experience multiple losses for many reasons. Sometimes, it’s simply a matter of having grown old enough that friends begin to die. But there were millions of deaths from COVID-19, many of which happened in clusters of people and families. When we lose multiple people in a short time, the grief for each becomes intertwined with the others. The weight of it can be very heavy and we may not be sure we’ll make it through. We begin feeling grief for one person, then it morphs into another, and another. Sometimes we can recognize it as it happens. Other times, we’re lost in the experience and not sure what we’re feeling. It’s even more confusing as the effects of multiple losses affect our mood and outlook on life. We may become easily aggravated or feel out of sorts. Anger is close to the surface. So is melancholy. We’re not ourselves. Even when other people see the changes in us, they probably won’t understand why the changes are occurring. But it’s the multiple losses, which are more complicated when the grief isn’t recognized or disenfranchised.
Many people say that time heals grief, suggesting that after a sufficient amount of time, all the pain is gone. That’s not true. Instead, time allows us the opportunity to rebuild our lives without the presence of the loved one. But the person who died is never replaced. The person may have died, but in very real ways the relationship continues. Researcher Dennis Klass describes this as the continuing bonds we have with the person who died. My friend Rick died over thirty years ago, but I still see things and think, “He would have liked this!” These are continuing bonds. When I experience the bond, I also feel the experience of grief along with the connection I have to the person who died. That’s just how grief is.
What can we do? Start by being patient with yourself. You’re feeling what you feel. Cherish and hold onto everything your friend or loved one has been for you. This may sound strange, but the person may have died but you still have a relationship with that person. So, honor it. Recognize that every time you feel the pain of grief, it’s a reminder of the amazing connection you had with the person who has died. Your life continues as you carry the person you were close to as part of your life.
I’m so deeply sad about your friends, Lou. I’m thinking of you.
Thank you.