There’s something about grief—I’ve never really thought much about.
Our culture tends to ignore grief, as if it is something one must get past and leave behind. Somehow, we think getting back to “normal” is the answer. We tend to look at grief only in terms of losing a loved one or experiencing life-altering events. But what about our ordinary griefs? I don’t pay any attention to even having those, much less honoring them.
I especially don’t attend to my own private grief. Wondering about grief brought this up for me the other day.
Recognizing Grief
I was lying down, taking a rest, and found tears trickling down my cheeks. Last week I tripped over our stone retaining wall in the dark. I fell about three feet onto my head, jarring my neck and landing on my back. No concussion, no fractures in my neck, no broken ribs. Miraculously, although scraped, jarred, and bruised, I was not injured badly. So why the tears?
Two nights after my accident, our whole family went to the Christmas Light show at the Arboretum. Luckily, I was well enough to join in. At one point, my daughter-in-law, the neurology nurse, took the opportunity to gently remind me about the increased hazards of falling at my age. I thought the notion of me being a “fall risk” was comical. I may be seventy-two, but I jog, I do movements, I hike—I’m very active and fit. Anyone can have an accident!
So why the tears as I lay in bed? Rather than brushing them away, chalking my emotion up to “not being myself,” I explored it. I let myself be aware that I was sad.
The question came, “Why?” And the answer was a realization. Not only am I not young, but I am no longer middle aged. I am, in fact, entering Old Age.
My tears were a manifestation of grieving for the passing of an era.
As I lay on my bed, it came to me that I was mourning the loss of middle age. And yes, I am a fall risk—I take chances and will probably keep doing so, because that also keeps me young. But I can be more attentive.
Carrying a barrel of firewood down a hill in the dark never registered in me as dangerous. Maybe now it will, from having allowed myself to mourn and recognize a life transition.
A Working Relationship
It is good to have a working relationship with grief as a practice. There are many little letting goes that can be acknowledged and honored in preparation for bigger ones. This too, is inner work.
I can work with grief in a three-centered way. First, by allowing and naming my feelings. Second, by taking the time to be aware of where the feeling inhabits my body and sensing that area. Third, by intentionally blending the emotion with my sensation. By doing this I “feed” my higher being body. Yes, there is grief and I mourn, but now there is also a finer energy that is not lost, but digested.
Very true and not easy to acknowledge the little triggers – like not able to open jars or rip open the vacuum sealed bags. I am still going to see grief counselor after a year of losing my partner. The benefit is two fold – good time to reflect and I get some healing touch at the close of session.
Pat, you just made me realize I have been denying my own loss of grip, when it comes to opening jars, etc. I turn to Jack, but have caught myself not wanting to go to “so what happens when Jack’s not around to do this?” thought. Yes, this too is a little piece for inner work with grief. I need to sit with that.
I must say, though, I love that you get healing touch at the end of your grief counseling- that is very appealing!
There are products to help with the opening of jars…a kind of rubber mat that allows a strong grip to be made and jars become easier to open. Maybe just lighten the load…not try to carry so much at one time so you can see where your footfall is — the “in the dark” part is kind of telling. Time to turn more than a philosophical light on, perhaps? Paying more attention to the task at hand–sensing that. But accidents do happen. Glad to hear the fall was not too serious. You’re a very young old person. 72 is the new 55 — that’s my story and I’m sticking to it or will in 6 years. Easy does it. Let the super efforts fall to the youngbloods now.
Good tips, James—thanks!
Maybe one of your best blog post, Roberta. There is a lot of loss right now in our family. The main one being my father who has dementia and is rapidly getting worse. I’ve never experienced grief happening before a death but it is. Thank God he is not suffering due to excellent care. But I seem to want to brush the grief away knowing that but it doesn’t take a way from it.
Thank you for opening a way to work in grief. You will never be “old aged” to me. It wasn’t a year ago I saw you push a full wheel barrel up hill for quite a ways. Love to you and Jack.
Thanks Sam—and from my own experience, the time you are able to spend with your father now, will help more than you can know after he is gone. Love to you and your family-
This is a very helpful post, Roberta. I am right where you are but a few years along.Turning 80 got my attention, along with a health issue and a serious fall the year before. Now a hip replacement. And some of my dearest friends are entering dementia or Alzheimers. I have been in denial about aging for a long time but am now grappling with how to accept it gracefully. I especially appreciate your tips on how to work with it inwardly for the building up of the second body.
Peace,
Nan
HI Nan, age-wise, you could have fooled me!! I am glad this is helpful for you. Now I just have to heed my own wisdom.
Ah digestion …. Amen. I am 78 and just finishing The Reality Of Being which has been a Feast of a life time. There has been my relishing every bite with relief and joy along with periods of not even recognizing what was on my plate. All the while knowing it was mine alone to ingest. I am grateful beyond words… Blessings Abound