When someone we love dies, we have to fly on anyway. But what if we have forgotten how to fly?  

The death of someone we love grounds us. It leaves us without a pilot or a flight plan. Chaos and confusion replace logic and order. We may feel as if we have been dropped into a foreign land, a land where we do not speak the language. Suddenly all the familiar places are gone, the places we felt safe, the places where our life made sense. Our mind does not seem to work. Our feet don’t seem to work. Everything seems to be happening in slow motion and our rhythm is different from the world’s.  Even our breathing has changed. We are out of sync, out of step and some people don’t hesitate to tell us that.

The death of our loved ones is not something we can plan or totally prepare for. The funeral arrangements may have been made, the financial affairs put in order, goodbyes and permission to go given, but we cannot prepare our heart for that moment when their heart stops beating and all the moments that come after, as we try to learn to live in a world without that special person.

Some of us did not have time to prepare even the practical things. Some of us did not get to say goodbye or tell our loved ones they were free to go. When death occurs suddenly without warning, the feelings of disbelief run even deeper as we struggle with wondering; How can this be? and the only answer is the sound of our tears or screams in the shower.

The death of our loved one forces a new identity upon us. Suddenly we are a widow or widower, a mother-less daughter, a bereaved son, sibling, grandparent, or a devastated mom or dad.  Sometimes if our grief is not recognized such as for the death of a lifelong friend, we are not given a place or identified as someone who needs to grieve. We may be mourning the death of our niece or nephew who was more like our very own child.  Friends and co-workers may have no idea about the magnitude of our grief. As the days pass many people seem to just pass on by without even noticing us and where we are, without noticing that for us time is standing still and the only place we want to go, is back to where we were.

You have probably heard people say that grief is a process, a journey, that it’s hard work. All of these are true. A process is not something that occurs in an instant. It takes time. Grief is an unavoidable journey for those who love. It is because we love that we grieve and the work of grief is perhaps the hardest work we do.

Many people want to know when this grief journey ends. When will they be done grieving? It is only natural to want to know when the pain we are feeling will stop, when we and our lives will get back to normal, when we will be able to put the past behind us. Many around us will want us to bury our pain like we buried our loved ones. They will want us to get over them or if we haven’t then pretend that we have. They don’t understand that grief does not work that way.  When this occurs, we may feel like we are flying solo and if it was our husband, wife, or significant other who died, we are.

Part of our grief work is realizing that our old normal doesn’t exist anymore and is not a state of being we can go back to. We will have to find a way to make peace with a new normal and to understand that it does not mean we have forgotten our loved ones. It just means that we are taking the necessary steps to reinvest in life again, to learn to fly anyway.

Deb Kosmer

debrakosmer@gmail.com

© 2009

 

 

Deb Kosmer

Deb has worked at Affinity Visiting Nurses Hospice for ten years, the first two as a hospice social worker and the last eight as Bereavement Support Coordinator supporting families before and after the death of their loved ones. She provides supportive counseling, developed and facilitates a variety of grief support groups, including a well-attended group for men only as well as other educational events. Deb received her Bachelor’s degree in Social Work from UW-Oshkosh and her Master’s degree in Social Work from UW Milwaukee. She received her certification in Thanatology through ADEC. Her writing has appeared in New Leaf Magazine, We Need Not Walk Alone, Living with Loss, Grief Digest, numerous hospice publications and EAP publications. Some of her poetry on death and dying will be included in a college textbook for social workers in end of life soon. New Leaf has also used some of her poetry for a line of sympathy and anniversary of death cards. On a personal level, Deb's 14-year-old son died after being struck by a car. Her 31-year-old sister had died in a car accident eight months earlier, and her 56-year-old father died from a heart attack exactly three years before. These three unexpected deaths within three years started Deb on a journey she never wanted to be on and she learned first-hand the importance of having the help and support of others. In the years since, she has experienced other losses, the most recent being the unexpected death of her 44-year-old step-daughter who died from complications three months after routine surgery. Deb's passions are writing, reading, education, nature, and family. She is currently working on a book of her grief poetry. She recently moved with her husband to Waypost Camp, Hatley WI. Her husband accepted a job there as Property Manager and his position allows them to live on-site with acres of woods and a lake. She anticipates the quiet beauty to be a strong catalyst for writing.

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