Grief Re-purposed; Reveling in Life at the Moment of Death
We continue to explore loss and grief with this third-in-a-series of four journal followup articles on Loss and Grief. This piece refers back to 'Grief and Celebration; Twins or Pairs of Opposites'.
I just returned from a week-long visit to New Orleans. The Big Easy is remarkably different from any place on earth. Celebrations of life are blown out into extreme displays found only there. Funerals (called homegoings) and weddings alike are known to have jazz band accompaniment through the city with the community of friends and family forming a Second Line parade.
Of the major attractions in NOLA, tours of its' historic and storied cemeteries are among the most popular. We were given a grand tour of three famous last-resting spots by a local haunting expert, photographer, and author, Kristen Wheeler. Our day-long adventure informed me that grief and loss are integral processes of life experience as opposed to an end story of death.
I have visited the United States Holocaust Memorial Museum and many other solemn places of remembrance. But there is no place and nothing like the open experience of life and death in New Orleans. The community, which suffered such catastrophic losses during Hurricane Katrina in August 2005, has come back like gangbusters. This is not to say that scars have been erased and pain eradicated. On the contrary, they are both quite visible. The resurrection of New Orleans is an effort in the making. But joy and hope were never blown away into The Gulf of Mexico, starved in the lower parishes, or abandoned in the Superdome. The City Under Water would not drown in a sea of sorrow.
"When the procession hits the street, the songs are played as a dirge. Mournful, slow playing. Music that suits the sad mood of a loved one’s passing. But, a song or two in, the mood changes. The brass band plays the first notes for “I’ll Fly Away,” and everybody sings. Dances. Smiles and laughs. It’s celebratory. It’s a joyful noise. It’s Gospel. Blues. Jazz. It’s music."
Ray Laskowitz, New Orleans photographer
The lessons learned from New Orleans can allow us to re-purpose grief.
What we can come to believe is that healing for loss and grief starts when we abandon dualistic thinking. Celebration and grief do, indeed, share the same space. However, it is more than that. Along with them, abundance and scarcity, joy and sorrow, fear and love, are all in a kind of circular dance. And what can be more full of fun than a dance? These things which seem to be opposites are really one and indistinguishable. This is essential to understand because when the dark hours of loss descend, it seems as if the light is no longer present. Feelings of abandonment and hopelessness can be so overwhelming that we become frozen in time. The truth that God is with us seems unreal. At these moments we must accept that the dance continues all around us. We can allow the process of grief because joy and hope are not just coming back someday, they are already present.
Here is a mindful and gentle way to allow the celebration of life to commingle with grief.
Choose a short sentence like "Love never fails" or "The Lord is my shepherd, I shall not want" and repeat it several times during the day.
The truth of it will settle into the center of your heart and darkness will begin to accept the dawn. Though this may seem simplistic or mundane, it will actually re-purpose your feelings of grief and enable you one day to dance again.
Grief and Celebration; Twins or Pairs of Opposites?
The loss of a beloved family member, friend or colleague is heartbreaking, there are many ways you can honor and celebrate their life.
We are not in the habit of welcoming or celebrating death and loss. It seems counter-intuitive or just plain wrong on so many levels. We aren't ready to grieve and mourn regardless of how well we've been prepared. Planning and anticipation might set the stage for loss, but when it comes there is little which has been done that truly relieves the suffering. I remember when my paternal grandfather died at age 97. He had lived an active, happy and virtuous life to its fullest. But it was the only time I saw my father cry.
Western culture tends to divide things into either-or's as opposed to both-and's. This two-ends-of-a-spectrum, dualistic thinking leaves little space in the middle and narrows wiggle room for processing death, loss, and suffering leaving only simple opposing choices. Either you are happy or sad, angry or forgiving, beginning or ending, grieving or celebrating.
The dualistic mind wants everything to be black or white. And, in reality, isn't it interesting that black and white are so much alike? On the color wheel, black is the presence of all color and white is the absence of all color. But on the light spectrum white is the presence of all color and black is the absence. Maybe God is trying to tell us something. Eastern cultures and religions such as Buddhism and Hinduism practice non-dualism. And Christian mystics have long understood the value of oneness.
When it comes to grief and celebration, the two are never far apart at all. Many traditional funerals with somber open casket viewings and formal services are often set aside for Celebration of Life memorials. Stories of good times and bad are offered by family and friends who might gather over a banquet table with cocktails and luscious desserts. Laughter and tears share the same space. Such gatherings create an atmosphere conducive to healing. The dark specter of loss and finality gives way to the possibility of new beginnings.
There is a beautiful, hopeful and certainly non-dualistic verse attributed to Henry Van Dyke or Luther F. Beecher that was presented to me when I was volunteering at an AIDS hospice in 1992. It sums up for me what loss, grief, and death are all about.
Gone From My Sight
I am standing upon the seashore. A ship at my side spreads her white sails to the moving breeze and starts for the blue ocean. She is an object of beauty and strength. I stand and watch her until, at length, she hangs like a speck of white cloud just where the sea and sky come to mingle with each other. Then, someone at my side says, "There, she is gone."Gone where? Gone from my sight. That is all. She is just as large in mast, hull and spar as she was when she left my side. And, she is just as able to bear her load of living freight to her destined port. Her diminished size is in me -- not in her. And, just at the moment when someone says, "There, she is gone, "there are other eyes watching her coming, and other voices ready to take up the glad shout, "Here she comes!"
New Perspectives on Grief and Loss
David Kessler, a co-author with Elisabeth Kubler-Ross of the classic book, On Grief and Grieving, has written a new book called Finding Meaning to be published in November 2019. Kessler identifies a Sixth Stage of grief which takes us beyond denial, anger, bargaining, depression, and acceptance to one in which loved ones are celebrated and honored. He also provides specific tools that will help those who are suffering loss.