When grief is a teacher: lessons from loss
Today, I share a more personal story in the hope that it will touch your heart, spark a thought, create a possibility or simply connects us all in our collective grief and loss during this season in our world, wherever you find yourself.
Every year, I like to pause and reflect mid-year on where I am, what progress have I made against my intentions, and ask myself whether my behaviours and, where I commit my time, reflect what truly matters and then course-correct where necessary. I also like to create this opportunity for clients to do the same in our coaching sessions.
Sadly, my mid-year has been particularly poignant as I spent the last week of June amid turmoil and worry as my mom entered the hospital and then passed away after a short illness rather unexpectedly.
Photo by engin akyurt on Unsplash
I know that I am in a worldwide family of people who are suffering profound loss and grief as the brutality of the pandemic prevails and loss and grief in different shapes and forms surround us. Reminding myself of this regularly is in some strange way is comforting. As Hellen Keller wrote: “We the bereaved are not alone. We belong to the largest company in all the world – the company of all who have known suffering”.
During this period, reading has been a source of profound comfort. Reading offered me an escape from the worry and engaged my mind in a productive and “un-self-absorbed” manner and has during this time moved me beyond self-pity, fear, helplessness and overwhelm. Two books in particular have been wise and compassionate companions as I walked the last week of June and early July.
The first being the classic novel by Henri Nouwen, a Dutch Catholic priest, professor, psychologist, writer and theologian. The Wounded Healer invites a perspective on pain and suffering that shifts us to think of how our human experience of woundedness can be transformed and used in the service of others.
The other book that called to me from my bookshelf was Leo Tolstoy’s “The Death of Ivan Ilych”. This book is an invitation to review what really matters in life as it vividly and achingly depicts the consequences of living an unreflective and conforming “careerist” life chasing after money power and status. Oh that we may live lives that are different from Ivan’s “most simple, most ordinary and therefore most terrible” life. A life that is unconstrained by expectations, others and societies, and by the self-imposed shoulds, musts and have-to’s; for a life lived from the heart.
Another comfort has been Chimamanda Ngozi Adichie’s Notes on Grief written for the New Yorker, shared by a caring colleague just before my mom passed away. Reading human stories, beautifully and richly written with raw honesty are always inspiring to me no matter how sad.
Through the tears and grieving a deeper and refreshed clarity is emerging that is revealing itself more powerfully and simply than my typical mid-year reviews.
I have learnt so far, that there is an ocean of difference between knowing and viscerally and emotionally being immersed in an experience, and I sense this is never more so than with loss and grief. It feels as if a different knowing is etched deeply into one’s being and life and self will never be the same again.
I have also been surprised in some ways at how death inspires life and even joy; a call to living simpler, more attuned, more sensitively, more gently and more consciously.
The other lesson that emerges in brighter colours, and darker lines, is that life is ultimately about love, relationships and service to others.
I’ve been sustained, in more ways than I could imagine, and I say a prayer of gratitude daily for all the forms of love, caring and relationships that sustain me, my family and my work during this time.
I enter the second half of the year, gentler, slower and with fewer questions, trusting that the lessons will continue to emerge without my needing to chase them. I experience islands of profound peace and a trust that life unfolds in a rhythm that we don’t foresee and can’t control and that this is ok. Yes, really ok.