Grief is a Teacher

It had been only six weeks since my 24-year-old son was killed in a car accident. That amazing young drummer who charmed most anyone he met with his good looks and kind personality, the one with the sparkle in his eyes that hinted at a bit of mischief, the one people were drawn to by his charismatic personality, the one who never in 24 years hesitated to hug his mom in front of his friends and audibly tell her he loved her.

Yeah, that one. His physical presence was now gone, and though my raw grief enveloped me, my face was vaguely stoic. Here I sat at a little outdoor café with my sister, Chris, who had carried me along so far to this point with such love and compassion, whose healing touch had soothed me as she came to my house each evening to provide me with a gentle acupressure treatment. With us was one of her friends, Elena, who I knew casually.

Facing Grief Directly

Summer break had just begun. I had managed somehow to close up my third-grade classroom just weeks after Eric’s passing. My sister and Elena were also teachers, and Chris had invited me to join them for lunch. Elena, whose only son had also been a friend of Eric’s, was genuinely sorry for this unimaginable tragedy and for all I had been going through.

As we slowly ate our salads and sandwiches, we briefly discussed this profound loss rather than avoid the elephant in the room, and for this I was very grateful.

Then, in an attempt to shift the conversation in a new direction, Elena asked the usual question teachers asked each other in the middle of June, “So what are your plans for the summer?”

A very slight pause. Still moving a bit on automatic, still numb from all that had occurred, my answer was short and quick.

“Grieving.”

I didn’t even have to think about it. It just came out.  Instinctively something inside of me knew that this summer was not about shopping, or beach trips, or catching up with friends, or pre-planning for the Fall school session. The world as I knew it had stopped, and I had something to do. It was very simple. Grieve.

Facing Grief is Healing

I know that people don’t think of it this way. They think that grieving is something that will float in and out while you keep going with life. This is true to some degree because life’s demands must be taken care of.

But grieving is a very real and necessary action after such a major loss. Grieving is actually part of the healing process. For some there is a tendency to want to not feel the pain and instead they may make themselves very busy or turn to some kind of substance to help ease that pain. It is understandable to want to avoid this brutal pain.

But in fact, grief will continue to pursue you, will make itself known when you least expect it. That’s why it’s often referred to as grief work. And if you don’t do the work, you won’t get through the grieving to the other side where life can be lived again. The grieving will never stop, of course, in the sense that it will always remain tucked inside your heart somewhere and still may show itself from time to time. You will always miss your beloved. But when the grief is faced and worked with, it will begin to soften, the turbulent waves will ease, and out of the darkness, the light can begin to shine again.

Running Into the Storm

Grief expert David Kessler says that if you have 1,000 tears to shed, you cannot stop at number 399. Those other 601 tears will stay built up inside of you, trying to burst through.

He also uses the analogy of a herd of buffalo. Upon becoming aware of an oncoming storm, the buffalo will instinctively choose to head straight into the storm, facing it and moving through it and beyond it, instead of running from it. They look it square in the eye and as they boldly encounter it, they are able to grapple with it and then move into a place of peace much more quickly than if they kept running away from the inevitable. By running in the other direction, the storm will only continue to chase.

Grief Teaches Compassion and More

We come to understand what really matters in life. We come to prioritize what how we spend our days. And we learn to have compassion for others who have suffered unfathomable losses. We learn that when all the said and done, it is the love that will remain.

Love. When we love greatly, we grieve greatly. And I have decided that that is okay. I will take all the love I have for my son and allow it to express itself as grief in my earlier days and weeks and even years with the hope and the knowing that, eventually, that love can express itself as joy once again.

I had the luxury of having about 6 weeks to do nothing but grieve before I had to start thinking about and planning for the school year again. Not everyone can do this, though some take as much time off as possible. And if that’s not possible, some devote time each day specifically for grieving. That may be talking to your loved one in spirit, journaling, going through photos, listening to music — whatever feels right for them — allowing the healing tears to flow. This is how we honor our grief. In doing so, we also honor our loved one.

So, yes, stating that my plans for the next six weeks are to grieve is a perfectly acceptable answer. Grief is exhausting. Self-care and self-compassion are essential. Choosing to stay in the pain forever is not proof of my love for Eric. My love for my son is not going anywhere. It will always be right here while I continue to navigate life with him by my side.

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Read more by Dolores on Open to Hope: Setting the Intention to Live Again – Open to Hope