Preparing for Your Winter of Grief
In Vermont where I live, the change of seasons brings a significant shift of feeling and sensation. The sounds change as birds migrate, cicadas’ drones ease, and leaves on trees begin their mighty transformation through colors, ultimately falling to the ground. As nature readies herself for winter, so do we. And for many of us, it is a time that resonates on a same frequency as grief.
It’s not a coincidence that the transition to winter can feel like grief. For thousands of years, humans have connected the process of harvesting crops and the dying off green to the cycles of life and death. There are stories, myths, songs, poetry, and art about this rhythm. There used to be great rituals surrounding these turns of time. In many parts of the world, if one wants to stay connected to these rituals, it is by choice and through conscious effort, because our culture does not do these things collectively anymore.
Grieving is like this, too.
When I think back on what I expected of myself in the years after my mother died, I often wish I could go back and do it differently. Don’t get me wrong. I don’t want to relive that time of acute grief, but I wish I could go back and hold myself in a softer way and be more tender to the part of me that died, too.
I was a new person because of this loss and all that happened around that time. Yet, I kept striving to feel stronger and more back-to-normal than I felt. As I’ve been reflecting on this, some things have come clear for me about what I would do differently if I could turn back the wheel of time. Maybe they will help as you navigate the road of grief that you are on.
What I Would Do Differently
- I would give myself more time before heading back into all my responsibilities. Some I had no choice about, but some could have waited.
- I would have more loving patience with myself and not get discouraged by rough days, awkward moments, tears, and distraction.
- I would embrace the idea that I am changed and be curious about it. Grief opens doors to whole new parts of ourselves. Granted, we might wish we didn’t have to learn about ourselves this way, but instead of trying to feel different or better, I would try to let myself be, and look at the landscape that surrounded me.
- I would let other people help me more. As a pull-myself-up-by-my-bootstraps kind of person, I tend to decline efforts of others to care for me in ways I feel I should do for myself. This is a symptom of our independent-individual culture and is something I’m actively working on.
- I would throw the word “should” out the window.
- I would find my community, whether in-person, online, or in reading. I did do a lot of reading about grief after my mom died, and it was very grounding for me, and I did talk to a lot of people who knew the road of grief well themselves. I would extend this effort into those later years after her loss when I was still struggling but felt like I couldn’t keep talking about it.
- I would take time to find myths and stories that reflect the pain of loss, death, and renewal. Doing this now soothes me because it links my experience with the experience of all who came before me. It reminds me that I am not alone.
The Cycle of Life and Death
As I write, I hear the chorus of geese as they migrate south, squawking and calling to each other. The cicadas are quieter than they’ve been, but still offer a background hum to the remaining days of warmer temperatures. I am reminded that we are all a part of this cycle, our laughter and our cries adding to the drone.
Bradie Hansen is co-author of The Long Grief Journey: How Long-Term Unresolved Grief Can Affect Your Mental Health and What to Do About It (Compassionate Grief Book for Healing After Loss): Blair, Pamela D., McCabe Hansen, Bradie: 9781728262666: Amazon.com: Books
Read more from Bradie Hansen: Maintaining Contact with the Dead Heals Some Grievers – Open to Hope