Bereavement

When my beautiful aunt died, 3 years, 2 months, and 1 day ago, I wasn't sure which way was up anymore. I had lost people before, but that experience was very different and completely life changing. At the time, my mother in law was friends with the palliative care doctor that had served on my late father in law's case when he was at the end of his life. She told him about what I was going through and he wrote her a beautiful email about the process of bereavement which she forwarded to me. I printed it out and have had it on my refrigerator since then, and often look at it and ponder the meaning of it. It's been very comforting. After my biodad passed on Saturday, I looked at it, and it all of a sudden had new and deeper meaning than it ever had before. It is somehow so much more applicable in this situation than it was in the other, and I am so grateful for it. I am going to share it with you.

Bereavement is a strange creature and it takes whatever shape it needs to capture your attention.

The way out is not to "fight" but to sit and acknowledge its presence. It does not need to be fought or fed or "treated" or medicated away. What it asks is to be acknowledged.

Repeatedly, respectfully recognize the reality of the images and feelings that come up in dreams (and in the waking hours). Sit with them routinely until their story has been heard.

There is no need to judge yourself or others. There is no need to question the validity of the thoughts, memories, and feelings that bubble up from parts unknown.

To judge implies that maybe persons and events could have been "right" or "better". Things just are the way they are. We are just the way we are. As far as the things we have done or not done--what about it?--all we have is the present. To be drawn into the quicksand of the "what ifs" has no value.

How long will it take? This will take all the time it needs. When these memories, images and feelings have been "heard" --and they may need "hearing" over and over--then they will quiet down on their own. You may be surprised to find yourself smiling and thankful for everything -- the pain and loss included.

The fruit of being patient with the suffering you endure will be beyond your expectation. That fruit is compassion.
Dr. Thomas Cuyegkeng