Grievers Need to Tell Their Stories

Because of the personal and varying nature of grief, I believe that narratives—stories—are critically important and helpful both for accepting death and coping with loss. Initially, we often need to tell our story of a death over and over to ourselves internally or to others. This helps us assimilate what has happened. It is almost as if we need to imprint the experience to make it real.

I once had a wise mentor who was supervising my work with a patient who kept telling his history over and over. I asked her when she thought he would stop repeating the story. “When he no longer needs to,” she said. We are all like this patient: we tell our stories of loss until we no longer “need to.”

With the passage of time, the initial narrative often changes, and details are added or taken away. Often the memory of other personal characteristics and relational experiences allow for a more holistic view of the person who died, including both positive and negative qualities. This incorporation of added memories allows us to experience a broader range of emotions involved in the loss.

When my father died, my narrative focused on the alleviation of his suffering. He had a very difficult final six months, and I both felt and described his death as a “blessing.” With time, my story began to include more memories of our earlier relationship that opened me up to my sadness at his death. My story—our stories—change over time and help us accommodate our loss.

Telling Stories Creates Meaning

Our stories help to make meaning out of loss. In the psychological theory known as constructivism, “meaning reconstruction” is posited as the central process in grief. By creating and telling our narratives, we try to make meaning out of our suffering. The creation of our stories is an active, unconscious process and influenced by both old and new life experiences, such as the birth of a baby in a family following the death of an older child. Over time, our narratives often evolve into a deeper interpretation of our loss experiences. This meaning-making process can result in positive growth for each of us.

Given my belief that grief is an idiosyncratic, meaning-making process with no time limits and best reflected in narratives, I haven’t been surprised when grief-stricken individuals tell me of sudden moments when they have experienced transformative thoughts. These “mysterious moments” don’t result from a conscious intent; their source is unclear. During these moments, the griever experiences thoughts that reframe his or her grief. They are like the “aha!” moments when, suddenly, we somehow see the world differently.

The unexplainable thoughts tend to come “out of nowhere,” whether the griever is focused on loss or not. The thoughts may occur when our loved one is dying, in the early period following the death, or after many years have passed. They are unique to each individual, weaving together the past and present within the psyche. I find that their occurrence is not universal; they are more often associated with deaths that have caused the bereaved ongoing distress.

These thoughts are often breakthroughs that offer relief and healing. My book, Mysterious Moments, is written about these meaningful moments, these epiphanies, when individuals suddenly see or understand their loss in a new way.

How Telling Stories Help Grievers

An example of a transformative moment embedded within a narrative. A father tells of his enduring distress after the death of his adolescent son. His son, who was the team quarterback, died in a car accident after a football game. The son had been his father’s delight: he was witty, academically talented, and popular with peers.

Two years after the death, the father remained angry and distraught. He had returned to work but continued to have problems. He had been actively involved in the life of his church, but he gave up his religious commitment and blamed God for his son’s death. And he was no longer able to hunt and enjoy the out-of-doors that he had shared with his son. Nothing in life gave him any joy.

New Stories Arise

He had a younger daughter with whom he had not shared a close relationship. In contrast to her brother, she was not at the top of her class in academics; she was artistic and not athletic; her boyfriends were not to his liking; and she tended to push the envelope behaviorally. Further, she hadn’t been overly demonstrative about her brother’s death, and the father interpreted her behavior as not caring about her brother.

Their relationship remained rocky until one day when he found a note she had written about her continuing distress over her brother’s death and her thoughts of suicide. The father was shaken. He took immediate steps to seek therapy for them both; he began taking her to lunch and engaging in activities with her; he listened to music she liked; and he talked with her about her boyfriends—even ones he didn’t like.

One day, while they were walking in the woods where he had previously hunted with his son, he suddenly realized that he had gained a daughter he had never known. In that moment, he understood that he could have lost both of his children. Although he continued to mourn his son, he felt a newfound gratitude for his daughter, which helped lessen his distress.

Excerpted from Jane’s book, Mysterious Moments, available at https://www.amazon.com/Mysterious-Moments-Thoughts-Transform-Grief-ebook/dp/B06XW34N6Q/

Read more from Jane on Open to Hope: The Power of Stories in Coping With Loss – Open to Hope

Jane Williams

I am a recently retired clinical psychologist who worked for over 25 years with individuals who had experienced trauma, life threatening illness, and grief. After completing a Ph.D. at the University of Memphis, I completed postdoctoral fellowships at the UCLA Neuropsychiatric Institute and Harvard Medical School. At Harvard, I trained in medical crisis counseling and later developed the Medical Crisis and Loss Clinic at Arkansas Children's Hospital. I helped plan and participated in the "Good Mourning" Program at ACH, made national presentations at grief conferences (ADEC), and published peer-reviewed articles on grief. In addition to my work in grief, I published over 50 peer-reviewed journal articles, 3 book chapters, and one test manual on various psychological topics. After retirement from the Wake Forest Medical School as an Associate Professor of Pediatrics, I wrote and recently published a book, Mysterious Moments: Thoughts That Transform Grief. In retirement, I spend most of my time with my hands in clay and writing. Apart from my academic description, I would have to describe my work in grief as providing the most meaningful experiences that I have had in my life. When someone allows you to walk down their path of suffering and loss, it is an unbelievable journey that results in a bonded relationship and teaches about the resilience of the human spirit. Although I am no longer engaged in active therapy, I would like to contribute articles that would be helpful to grieving individuals. I am the author of Mysterious Moments: Thoughts That Transform Grief, available at https://www.amazon.com/dp/161846034X/