Grief is an Ocean
Yeah, so it’s the holidays, why are we talking about grief? My Father passed away five weeks ago, right before Halloween, my Mom’s birthday, my girls’ Basketball Season, Thanksgiving, and now the holiday that I celebrate, Christmas. Ohh wait, and then there’s one more, New Year’s Eve. 2026 will be the first year that I will not have access to an earthly father, a year that I don’t really want to arrive. It’s a year where my Dad can’t check in on the girls by calling them to see how they are doing or how their games and tests have gone, and what snacks he can send them (that their Mom won’t approve of). A year his chair is empty at the table and a year that I don’t have his unwavering support that a child needs, no matter their age. This will be the “year of firsts,” as they say.
Grief is an unwanted change. This can be death, divorce, infertility, miscarriage, a move, aging children, aging parents, chronic illness, empty nesting, job loss, menopause, political race outcomes, wars, etc… Unwanted change is hard because we have no control over our longing (for something good, which is usually, merely to love someone or something), nor whether or not we can alter the circumstance for it to be favorable or fixed. When my Dad received a Stage 4 Diagnosis three and a half years ago, I tried to control the disease by doing research, suggesting alternative medications, nutrition, and treatment centers; only to find that those efforts were futile. My Dad still died, and there was nothing I could do to manage his disease or to make him live longer. It's a hard lesson to not focus so much energy on fixing human conditions. Those efforts do come from a place of love but can also push us away from acceptance and surrender. On the other hand, if we never lived in a stage of grief called “Denial” (or “hope,” I’d like to add some sugar to “denial” because it sounds pathologizing), we may drive ourselves literally crazy — obsessing about which minute of which day we and our loved ones will die. Denial/hope serves a purpose at end stages of life, for all family members.
David Kessler dedicated his academic and clinical career to writing about and sitting with others’ loss. He has partnered up with Kubler Ross’s seminal work (“The Five Stages of Grief”) and wrote On Grief and Grieving: Finding the Meaning of Grief Through the Five Stages of Loss. He may say that I am in the acute stage of grief. This is a period marked by exhaustion, shock, numbness, and (intense) sadness, anger, confusion, and preoccupation with the deceased. One can have many physical symptoms of grief such as headaches, dizziness, brain fog, heart palpitations, and an upset stomach. But, to personalize this experience, I’d add a different, combined physical and emotional state called “emptiness”. In my emptiness, my body gives permission to feel grief. My exterior matches my interior, sad but balanced, missing something that I can't get back. Wanting to return to my youth to remember what it feels like for our family of five being complete again, only to feel a sore back and a heavy body roaming aimlessly around because nothing matters when you feel empty.
Julia Samuel, a British grief expert who wrote Grief Works: Stories of Life, Death, and Surviving, also notes other ways of being. We can feel very distant from others we currently have relationships with because the only relationship we may care about is the one we no longer have direct access to. So much is here in front of us, but so much is lost. In summary, it’s ok to feel alone. It’s ok to surrender to apathy. It’s ok to skip a holiday. But it’s not ok to forget about the love that currently surrounds you; the love that needs your love to flourish. Loss can breed apathy, but it can also make you grab onto the only thing that really matters in this world, love.
I am thinking about your unwanted change this season too. How can we gather together (virtually, or in person) to make this season less about gross consumption and more about seeing people where they really are at? How can we honor our grief for the time we need to, but then gently encourage ourselves to live more fully with the others who are around us? Chances are, they are grieving about something too.
Below is a list of 7 things that I am thinking about this season as it pertains to grief:
Perennials are essential. My Dad bought me and planted a Schlumbergera (a fancy name for Christmas Cactus) and a couple Hemerocallis (looks like a daylily). As a person who was raised on a farm, he valued seasonal creation, and its splendor and magic. Now, after my Dad is no longer here, I get to re-experience a new season with him through the plants he birthed. Seasons remind us that we are not always stuck in the “same” — same coldness, same routine, same environment. Life will grow and move with the Earth and Sun and so will we. And, although we can predict when new seasons arrive, we cannot begin know what that season will hold for us until after it is gone. My Dad gave me a plant that I thought only bloomed around Christmas- as it turns out- it blooms in the late Spring too.
Without putting a performance stamp on your lists, start making a list as to what is restorative and healing for you this season. Perhaps it’s skipping giving Christmas gifts to your kids and taking a vacation instead? What is restorative for me is not to plan too far in advance. So, other than for work or parenting responsibilities, I am not committing to going somewhere until the last minute that it may be socially acceptable this December. Which takes me to #3.
Acknowledge that you do not have an endless supply of energy. Our bodies are not machines, but we treat them as if they are race cars most days. When do you park your car without second guessing your choice? It is typical to question our decisions during grief. Try to quiet those judgmental questions. Accept that we are human beings, not human doings. Maybe even celebrate it.
Look at Grief Books, including Children’s Books. Dr. Lora-Ellen McKinney (her bio and work are absolutely worth exploring) wrote a children’s book called All About Grief that’s in front of me as I write. In this book she outlines grief of all kinds such as “normal, chronic, cumulative, delayed, exaggerated, distorted, masked, traumatic, and collective.” As one can ascertain — grief is messy. Grief includes various types and volumes. It can be shared or hidden. Books help us to normalize our experiences.
List coping skills about what we can do when we feel like grief is a wave that engulfs us. Below are a few ideas taken from another children’s book, What Does Grief Feel Like?Talk about the person you miss or the incident that is causing your sadness, create art around your grief, allow yourself to cry, use deep breathing, talk to someone about your grief (a therapist, friend, or trusted family member), go to a place that reminds you of them, light a candle for them, or start a fundraiser in their name. One I would suggest is making a memory box of your person. Something that I would like to include in my Mom’s memory box for my Dad is his hairbrush.
Join a Grief Group on-line or in person. Many churches have free “Surviving the Holidays” grief groups, which you can find here. Or, if faith-based groups are not your thing, and if you’re lucky, you may live near a Grief Center such as this. I once heard a Group Practitioner say that she wishes groups could become as normalized as individual therapy. There is so much healing to be had within a group setting. Give it a try. Vulnerability feels better than you think. Plus, groups make it nearly impossible to hide in your grief completely, which is what you may be doing in your day-to-day.
Check out David Kessler’s website. He is a gentle and masterful guide through grief. There are articles, groups, books, videos that you need to read. The videos are free! He notes how essential community is during times of grief, as we need both “people we can go deep with and people who can distract us” to get us through.
Extra Credit- In my emptiness, I start to practice the antidote to my longing, which has become a (heavenly) wonder about life existing somewhere else. It’s amazing how freeing it is for me. Look up into the sky; a new home awaits if you’re open to it.
Love never dies. Some may say that grief is love that has nowhere to go. I prefer to think that we never stop loving our loved ones and they never stop loving us (noted by David Kessler in his Grief 101 video). That’s it for now, Friends. I hope that you feel supported during your grief journey. You are never alone. Grief and longing are a universal human condition. Be gentle to yourself this Holiday if you are swimming in the unpredictable ocean of grief.
LoveWell,
Kim