A Joyous Perspective on Grief: How to be "there" with care.

Well. We come to another Friday Night Thought Tale Hour with the Hendersons. My thoughts tonight may not be as joyful as you wish for, in the dreary and gray season. However, as I go through my days and attempt to make every significant experience one I grow through, this subject plays a vital role. As much as my optimism does tend to guide most of my response, there are just some things that can crush me in a flash. This quote reminded me of one of the key reasons I keep up this blog:

“Bad things do happen; how I respond to them defines my character and the quality of my life. I can choose to sit in perpetual sadness, immobilized by the gravity of my loss, or I can choose to rise from the pain and treasure the most precious gift I have—life itself.” 

~Walter Anderson

Grief. It strikes you and me when we least expect it.

I looked ahead at my calendar this week to schedule some appointments, and there it was: In just over a week, it will be Mom Cathy’s birthday. A day our family wants to be celebrating her 77th birthday, we will instead face the reality that she’s not here to mark it. The day will instead bring sadness to the surface again, and there will be fresh tears shed. 

The topic of grief is very close to my heart for a few reasons. Partly because my family and I experienced grief in so many different forms over the past nine years, and because I am still in the process of grieving the loss of a significant relationship. But also because I don’t think it is talked about openly often enough.

Grief is looked at as this icky, foreign, forbidden feeling when it is, in fact, an entirely normal part of life, and something that almost every person has or will experience in this lifetime.

While different people experience grief in different ways, there are universal themes that we can all relate to.  When someone we know is grieving, our natural human instinct is to try to cheer them up because we don’t want to see our nearest and dearest in pain. However, in essence, what we are actually doing is invalidating how that person feels (unintentionally) because we want them to feel better. Sometimes, we really need them to feel better. We need them, and this thing is making them not as dependable as we'd like. 

That's not an accusation of selfishness. It just is the truth.

I know from personal experience there have been times when I have wanted and needed to talk about my grief to friends and family but have felt forced to suppress it because of the discomfort it may extend to other people. It really is the proverbial ‘Elephant in the room’ at times. Strangely, made even worse when ignored, or more still when forgotten. It feels stifling at times.

The most supportive and kindest thing we can do when we know someone who is grieving is to be with their grieving.

So often we try to change how they are feeling, distract them from the pain or cheer them up, but the best thing we can do, as a supporter, is to just be with them. However, they show up on the day. Sometimes this might mean they want to see you, at times they might not, and other times they want to be surrounded by as many people as possible. Allow it, don’t fight it and be okay with seeing that person in pain.You are giving them the gift of healing by doing this. You are reminding them that you are still here.

Just focus on compassion, humility, and presence.

And for those of you in grief, I encourage you to show up as your authentic self, which in turn gives others the permission to do the same. Whatever the catalyst for your grief, it absolutely must be expressed rather than suppressed, whether the loss occurred yesterday, last month, or last year or last decade.

The painful and harsh reality is that we will never get back what we had, but eventually, we will form a new normal, and we create that new normal as an expanded version of ourselves. When we interact with others, they will notice this. If you are the one noticing, hold back your desire to judge and jump to conclusions on what you see in this new version of the person. Give it time to grow and develop. Learn from what you see, because you will most likely be there one day too.

Allowing ourselves to go through the grieving process and express whatever emotions arise is a truly beautiful thing. What’s on the other side of that grief is the ability to see the blessing and lesson; we begin to see the gift of this life we have been left to live and the sheer importance of making every day count. I still can’t believe that I have to remind myself of this truth sometimes, but I do. 

We live in the illusion of immortality because the reality is just too hard to face at every minute.

So, if I may, I’d like to leave you with this:

How are you going to make today count, this moment, and this very minute? In the good, and the bad and the ugly? With the grief and the grieving? With the heartbreak and the joy? Can you choose to stop suppressing and start expressing? I think if you can, you will find that each day will bring expanding opportunities to make a lasting mark in your history.

So tonight, in keeping with the cold weather and the solitude of the times, Chris and I will be drinking Brandy Alexanders. Not too harsh, but not exactly light-hearted. We will toast to the ways we have found treasures in the loss, and smiles in our pain. Here’s to rising from the ashes. Cheers, Friends.

Joy's Brandy Alexander***

1 1/2 oz brandy (it can be flavored.)
1 oz white or dark creme de cacao
1 oz heavy cream
1/4 tsp grated nutmeg for garnish

In a shaker half-filled with ice cubes, combine the brandy, creme de cacao, and cream. Shake well. Strain into a cocktail glass and garnish with the nutmeg.


***Always drink responsibly. Never drive after consuming alcohol.