Grief has no universal timetable. In my recently released novel, The Shape of What Remains, Tess finds herself stuck 10 years after the shocking death of her 6-year-old daughter. Modern culture in the United States is fast and slows down for no one.
Although everyone experiences grief, whether it is from the loss of a job, the death of spouse or loved one, divorce, political upheaval, or an unexpected move away from a familiar environment, there is a tendency to encourage us to move on: stiff shoulder, suck it up, grin and bear it. We have a whole vocabulary instructing us to ignore what all of us feel when we experience loss. What happens when you paste a smile on your face and get on with life in the wake of unfathomable loss?
For Tess, everything triggers her pain — children playing in the park, pesto (her daughter’s favorite), pigtails and dance lessons. She recycles the moments when she denied her daughter something — pierced ears, a hip-hop class. Although Tess is fictional, she is also every one of us when we are facing our worst fears. We cannot escape loss during our lifetime unless we die very young.
Reshaping Our Conceptions of Grief
There are grieving groups, including a wonderful organization for parents who have lost children, Compassionate Friends. Even in those supportive environments, there is an expectation that one will “get better” or somehow move on from an experience that has inexorably altered lives.
What exactly is moving on? Does it mean the grief-stricken individual is able to go to work, attend social events, and pay attention to their well-being by regular bathing, eat nutritious meals, and perhaps attend faith services? Many of us can robotically go through work days until something triggers us. In Tess’ case, that may be a little girl playing outside or a handmade ornament.
What would it look like to have a culture supportive of the long and very individual process of grieving? To me, it would mean more unconditionally accepting outlets where there would be no pressure to pretend that everything is fine. Like casual conversations where people ask “How are you?” and the proper response is “Good, and you?”, there is no authenticity or support for someone who might respond, “Actually, I’m a mess right now.”
Can we alter our expectations to offer support to the fact that grief manifests in different ways? The widow who seems to move on (like Bess in The Shape of What Remains) is still grieving. She has just internalized the idea that paralysis will not bring back her beloved husband. Moving on and even remarrying is a way of staying connected to the world, even though she has not forgotten nor has she “gotten over it”.
In life, there are events we do not “get over” even if we hold jobs, nurture children and engage in relationships. Mourning isn’t linear. Functionality is not the same as forgetting. As Tess gradually learns to reintegrate herself into society by getting back to her profession, making friends and standing up to her husband, she doesn’t forget her daughter. It does not diminish the memory of loss when one engages in life-affirming activities.
Understanding the Process of Grief
In life, there are instances of personal grief and also collective grief. The worldwide pandemic was a collective grief since children were taught remotely, and maybe jobs were either lost or went online. Families grieved the change in mobility and freedom, and children lost valuable social time with their peers.
A loss of power or agency can happen anytime due to illness or unemployment. Everyone will cope differently. There are accounts of paraplegics accomplishing remarkable feats, and people starting successful businesses after losing their livelihood. There are also stories of suicides, divorces and depression resulting from the same events.
Individual resilience is just that: individual. A person’s trajectory may be influenced by available mental health support, acceptance of family members, community resources, and his/her/their personality. In times of war, there are remarkable survivors who go on to live long lives. There are also veterans battling drug addiction, homelessness, nightmares and depression. I do not know what makes one person more resilient than another, but I do know that grief manifests in different ways for everyone.
In The Shape of What Remains, Tess’ husband, Luke, seems as if he has coped well with the loss. His career is taking off, landing him a sabbatical semester with a prestigious scholar in England. Some people throw themselves into work to cope with grief. At some point, the grief may resurface, blindsiding them. The process of grieving does not have a beginning or an end.
How Grief Fundamentally Changes Us
Many years ago, I worked in the field of counseling with teenagers. Some had parents who had been diagnosed with serious or terminal diseases. It was not just an education for me to offer support, compassion and a safe space to these students; it was a lesson I needed to teach to my co-workers.
Some were able to be flexible by extending deadlines or forgiving missed work while these teens were coping with the possible loss of a parent. Others were rigid, perhaps in denial that death would find them one day. I persisted but did not win every battle about tests and homework, so the grades of some of these teens suffered.
Knowing what I know now, I would have tried to educate them about grief, how it comes in waves and can be overwhelming at times. Elisabeth Kübler-Ross was a Swiss-American psychiatrist and an eminent expert on death and near-death experiences. She outlined stages of grief without a timeline for each stage because there is no timeline.
One may stay in denial, anger or bargaining for a long time. Acceptance does not mean forgetting or diminishing loss. It simply means getting on with this new life, the one without the job, the spouse or the child.
It is a life that my main character, Tess, describes as less colorful. The intensity she may have felt before the disaster is now muted. That doesn’t mean she’ll never again feel joy or love. It only means that she, like all of us, is fundamentally changed by grief.
