The price of love.

This morning I found THIS article from the Washington Post about our views of dying from the medical perspective. It spiraled into a million and one thoughts for me... thinking about the mortality of my loved ones, and how I hope to be able to respond when the time comes for their passing. As much as I would like to think that I'll be able to be emotionally strong and selfless, I can't help but think about the alternative of wanting to hold on as long as I can.

It then got me thinking about my experiences with death, both professionally and personally, and the opportunities we have to grow and learn through each experience.

There isn't a wrong way. Whether you are present or not, whether you are sad and cry yourself into an oblivion or not, whether you hold on tight or let go immediately... no one can tell you that there is a right or wrong way to grieve. We have only to trust ourselves to what is right for us.

When I work with a client who has experienced a loss, one of the common conversations we have is whether or not they are grieving the right way. "I should be crying more." "I should be able to move on by now." The picture that we have in our minds about grieving isn't always right. We grieve how we need to grieve.


We grieve difference people in different ways. I can remember the first person I lost to death, my paternal grandmother, when I was just a pre-teen. I didn't cry a lot, and can remember feeling terrible that I didn't feel terrible. Almost three years ago, we put our dog to sleep. I cried for days. Big, huge crocodile tears.

If I compare those two grief experiences to one another, how wrong was it for me to cry for days (okay, weeks and possibly months) over my dog... yet barely cry over my grandmother? What a heartless person.

The truth is, people grieve different ways over different people, based on their relationships and life experiences. I didn't really spend a lot of time with my paternal grandmother, and our relationship was very distant. Cindylou, on the other hand, was my four-legged child who I rescued and raised for 10 years.

Grief changes you.  Years ago, my mother-in-law's mother passed away. I remember tears pouring down my face at the funeral. I thought at the time it was grief for my mother-in-law, because although I had only met Mimi a few times, I felt like I knew her because my mother-in-law always spoke of her.

A week or so after the funeral, I can remember being on the phone with my grandparents and completely breaking down while talking to them. The grief experience I had was that death is real... and if someone my grandparents' age is dying, that means that they can (and will) die too. Since that time, my relationship with my grandparents has gotten more real. Real in the sense that I don't take for granted opportunities I have to talk to, or see, them. I cherish phone calls, and talk longer than I used to. I always long for that "I love you" at the end of our conversations.

You are never really prepared. Even if you know that it's coming, you can never really prepare yourself for the realities of death and grieving. Sure, you can read literature on the grief process and we know that there are stages of grief, but you never know how to prepare yourself for dealing with the sound of a last breath, the feel of your loved one's hand in yours as they pass, or the phone call of news being shared. 

While we know that death is a part of life, I don't think we're ever really prepared because it would mean that we are prepared to say good-bye to a part of our lives. The memories that are tied to our loved ones, while they stay present with us, aren't enough to fill that void in our hearts.



Grief never ends... but it changes. Grief is the price of love.
And if the price of love is grief, then I will gladly invite grief into my life for those people I cherish so much.