Grief Changes

         I remember when thoughts of my late husband Bob were inescapable.  He died in our living room, and so every day I went past the exact spot of his death at least a hundred times.  It wasn’t possible to avoid thoughts of him.  When sleep finally came, Bob would be there in my dreams.  

     Supersaturated with grief, I felt lost.  As my mind was trying to come to terms with our tragedy, many analogies would visit me in my dreams.  Being in a fog so thick that I couldn’t see where I was going, I led my family slowly forward accompanied by an impending sense of doom.  It felt that we would inevitably reach a cliff over which we would fatally fall. 

     During my waking hours, my mind was not very useful to me in those early months. My grief took me out of reality, keeping me inside of myself in a pool of challenging emotions and terrifying thoughts.  This was out of my control.  There were days when I could accomplish very little very well.  Grief took me away from myself. 

     As a counselor, I am a grief mentor to those who are experiencing the loss of a loved one.  Sometimes they come in during those early days of acute pain and suffering, the ones when grief has a tight grip and they feel supersaturated.  As they recount their situations, I feel genuine empathy because unfortunately I have gone through it myself.  Having gone through it, I am able to share with them something genuine: hope.

Hope: Grief Changes

     When you lose a loved one, you are outfitted with a grief hole in your heart.  In the beginning, it is like a black hole with an inescapable gravitational pull, drawing you inside.  Everything is lost inside – your thoughts, your energy, your emotions.  Flooding with inescapable pain, sorrow, and despair, you feel lost, unable to see light.  It is all consuming and this agony can last a very long time.

     Fortunately, your love for your lost one never diminishes. Their connection never severs because an unbreakable invisible string tethers your heart to theirs. 

     Over time, you will find that the black hole loses its potency.  Instead of being stuck inside there for weeks upon weeks, you spend less time inside. Maybe a few days or hours.  A shift happens and eventually you are able to come and go more freely.

Why We Get Stuck In The Black Hole

     Recent neurobiological research has revealed that grief is not just an emotion; it is a state of chronic yearning. When we love someone, our brain encodes them as a resource for safety and reward. When they die, the brain’s reward center, the nucleus accumbens continues to fire, seeking the hit of connection that person used to provide.

     This creates a biological paradox. We reach for the memory of our loved one because it provides a dopamine hit of connection, which is the closest approximation we have left to their physical presence. However, that hit is immediately followed by the searing realization of their absence. For those experiencing prolonged grief, the brain can become caught in a loop of searching and yearning, making the black hole feel inescapable. We go there because, in a strange way, the pain is where they are.

It Won’t Be Like This Forever

     Lois Tonkin famously proposed in her model of grief that the loss itself does not shrink. If you draw a circle representing your grief today, and then draw another circle ten years from now, the grief circle remains the same size.

     What changes is the size of your life.

     Initially, the grief circle is the circle of your life. There is no room for anything else. But over time, through the slow work of integration, you begin to build new experiences, new relationships, and a new sense of self around that grief. You grow into a larger circle. The loss is still there.  It is still the same diameter, but it is no longer the totality of your existence. You’ve grown around it.

From Black Hole to a Passage

      As your life expands, the nature of the hole shifts. It stops being an inescapable vacuum and begins to function as a passage. This is a place inside you that you can come and go from with greater ease. It is a sacred interior space where the version of you that loved that person still lives. 

     Sometimes, you choose to go there intentionally to sit with your memories, perhaps on an anniversary or through a ritual to feel the connection. Sometimes, you find yourself there without realizing you entered. A song on the radio or a specific scent act as a doorway, and suddenly, you are back in the thick of your yearning.

     The difference, as the years go on, is that the passage is no longer a trap. You spend less time there because the life you have built outside the passage is also worth inhabiting. You learn that you can visit the sorrow without it becoming your permanent residence.

     I am not sure where you are along your grief journey as you’re reading this.  I am so sorry that life has brought you to a place of deep pain.  It is my hope that you find some comfort in these closing words.      

      The reality is that yes, our loved ones have passed away. Another reality is that the connection we have with our loved ones will continue. It is indestructible. Love never dies.  We will carry our loved ones with us as we move forward for the remaining days we have. My hope for you is that you find some moments of comfort outside the passage and build a life that is worth inhabiting.

Disclaimer:  This is an article for discussion purposes and not intended as a substitute for therapy. If you are struggling with your grief journey, please reach out and contact me or another therapist who is trained in helping those with grief.