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“How to deal with loss?”
We’re going to ignore appetite there. lol.
How do you deal with loss of a loved one?
I’m someone who is very fortunate not to have lost a loved one yet. My parents are very much alive, and so are my friends. If anything, they probably would have more reason to worry about losing me.
That being said, I have nightmares every so often of my parents. They’re at the age where I have to start imagining my adulthood without them. And I love them so much. I can’t imagine my life with them gone. And I’ve cried before after having nightmares of losing them.
If I’m this shaken up at the possibility of them leaving me, what does that say about the grief that others have already gone, or are going through?
Loss is something that naturally happens in life. Just as my parents will inevitably leave me, I will inevitably leave my children, or friends, or whomever. Death is a natural part of life, and parting ways with those who have to leave is a process everyone has to deal with at some point.
One of my favourite books, Tuesdays with Morrie, talks a lot about loss - life and death, and dealing with grief. In the book, Morrie is diagnosed with ALS, and one of his students - the author Mitch Albom - frequently visits and has conversations with Morrie about life, and grief, and moving on.
Here are some quotes I particularly love from that book:
Do what the Buddhists do. Every day, have a little bird on your shoulder that asks, ‘Is today the day? Am I ready? Am I doing all I need to do? Am I being the person I want to be?’” He turned his head to his shoulder as if the bird were there now. “Is today the day I die?” he said.
I always viewed this as a way to evaluate how fulfilled you are with your life. Being ready and comfortable with the idea of death at any point speaks volumes about how satisfied you are with what you’ve done. It’s not easy, for sure. Things are always in progress, things are rarely finished. I know I’d be a bit disappointed if I died right now, because I wouldn’t have finished writing this post. But hopefully one day, there comes a time when I’m perfectly happy with what I’ve achieved and where I am, and hopefully that is when I’m ready to leave.
Death ends a life, not a relationship.
As long as we can love each other, and remember the feeling of love we had, we can die without ever really going away. All the love you created is still there. All the memories are still there. You live on - in the hearts of everyone you have touched and nurtured while you were here.
Just because they’re gone, doesn’t mean you can’t remember them. The relationship we have with that person will still exist. If my mother were to suddenly pass away tomorrow, she would still be my mother. If I were to get in a freak accident in 5 minutes, I’d still be her son. In that way, we would still be connected.
If I die early, I hope the people around me remember who I was, not what I was.
If you hold back on the emotions–if you don’t allow yourself to go all the way through them–you can never get to being detached, you’re too busy being afraid. You’re afraid of the pain, you’re afraid of the grief. You’re afraid of the vulnerability that loving entails. But by throwing yourself into these emotions, by allowing yourself to dive in, all the way, over your head even, you experience them fully and completely.
I’ve followed this philosophy ever since I read that book years ago. When I’m sad, or unhappy, I try to let myself feel those emotions. Try to let myself really go through it. That way, it’s easier to let go of them. I’m not half-stuck to them, half-out. It’s easier to just let it wash over you and leave. It helps. A lot. But it’s not always easy to do. There are times when the emotions just drag you down and you can’t help but spiral, and no matter how rational you act, sometimes you can’t control how you feel. But that’s okay, one day the sun will rise again. And this too, shall pass.
Don’t let go too soon, but don’t hold on too long.
It’s hard to put into practice. I get really attached to things I like - it’s hard to let go. Sometimes my friends say I’m clingy. Yeah…they’re not wrong. I like being around people I like. We don’t even have to talk to each other or anything, too. Just being there is enough. It’s hard to let them go sometimes. It’s why I worry a lot about how I’ll deal with the grief when I eventually have to say goodbye to those I love. Hopefully I’ll be more ready by then.
“You’ll come to my grave? To tell me your problems?”
My problems?
“Yes.’
And you’ll give me answers?
“I’ll give you what I can. Don’t I always?”
I picture his grave, on the hill, overlooking the pond, some little nine foot piece of earth where they will place him, cover him with dirt, put a stone on top. Maybe in a few weeks? Maybe in a few days? I see myself sitting there alone, arms across my knees, staring into space.
It won’t be the same, I say, not being able to hear you talk.
“Ah, talk . . . “
He closes his eyes and smiles.
“Tell you what. After I’m dead, you talk. And I’ll listen.”
T_T
Mum, dad, I hope you’ll be there to listen to my problems!
~
When I visited Houston back in 2022? 2023? I came across a bunch of notes. They were messages, I believe.
They really moved me to tears, honestly. Everyone has gone, or will go, through bad times in their life at some point. It’s important to keep our minds and hearts open.
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Seeing how other people react to grief and loss…you can’t imagine how much it hurts.
The idea of lashing out in anger and rage and pain after losing a loved one is just so real. To be hurt and upset is so human. It can’t be fair. I would say mean, dumb things as well. That’s what grief does.
I can’t really put into words just how much I empathise with (what appears to be) the young child who wrote those last 3 messages. I can’t stress just how strongly they move me.
I’m sorry for your loss. It’s okay to be upset. I hope you’re doing well.
Stay strong.