Someone Died Today
No matter how prepared or unprepared we are for death, no matter how old or young we are, no matter how much we say, “I love you,” no matter how “good” or “bad” a death it was, no matter how relieved or anguished we feel, no matter what our spiritual or religious beliefs are, the death of a loved one shocks us with its finality.
They are gone forever from this world, and our lives will never be the same.
The Raging Storm
Emotions tumble over us—intolerable pain, rage at our loved one, ourselves and God, terror about the future, depression thick and black, joyous release, love deeper than we thought we could ever feel, or a quiet numbness, an emptiness in which we can feel nothing at all.
We may fear we are going crazy. We may move from the heights of transcendence to the depths of despair—or vice versa—in moments. Or we know now what it means to have a broken heart. We don’t know if we will survive it.
Pandemic Losses
Sometimes we had the chance to say goodbye. So many of us did not. Perhaps a nurse held a phone to our loved one’s ear so we could say, “I love you” one last time. We prayed that someone was holding our beloved’s hand as death approached, learned of our loss from a phone call, or from an exhausted, masked, socially distant doctor.
Now we grieve alone, often unable to gather in traditional ways to mourn or celebrate our loved one’s life. We gather on Zoom, or perhaps not at all. We wait for normalcy while knowing that without our loved one, life will never be normal again. Some of us can’t even cry in the arms of a friend without risking infection from a virus that has reached every corner of the globe.
But You Elude Me
At the deepest level, how can we accept the finality of our loss? We see our loved one in a passing car or walking in a crowd, and suddenly realize that it was merely a cruel trick of the mind. The next day it happens again, as real as the day before.
Everything reminds us of the death. Wearily, we trudge through our lives. We struggle to remember the sound of our loved one’s voice, we look at pictures, we spend time with friends or time alone, trying to forget how much we hurt, praying that we won’t.
The Garden of Dreams
Some dreams are nothing more than dreams. Others are like… visitations. There is no symbolism or metaphor.
Some dreams are so real that we know without a doubt that our loved one is letting us know that they are safe. These dreams are immediate, powerful and memorable. Often, we learn something about love, life, death and the survival of Spirit. Whether we awaken joyous or miserable, these dreams almost always help us to heal.
Beginning to Heal
Slowly, we find that we are stronger as the storm blows through us. Stronger, but more like bamboo than oak—we find that we can bend more before we break. In the pain, we begin to find the seeds of healing and rebirth.
We discover new meaning in old pieces of our lives and create new pieces to replace those that have lost their meaning. We find pleasure in giving away a possession of our loved one’s to someone who will treasure it. Or we visit places that our loved one enjoyed and find comfort that softens and sweetens our grief.
There will never be a time when we have completely gotten over and forgotten our loss. But we can find a place for it. As we rebuild our lives, we learn to let go of all that will never be. We may discover in the process, however, that it is only our old ways of living to which we must say goodbye, not our loved ones—they continue to live in our hearts. It is then that we may be able to find a gift in our loss: we have become more for losing what was precious to us.
Excerpted from Mike Bernhardt’s book, Voices of the Grieving Heart: https://mikebernhardt.net/order
Read more from Mike Bernhardt: https://www.opentohope.com/writing-poems-can-heal/
