Good Mourning

My mother-in-law passed away last week after a short illness. Her end of life pulled me back into the world of mourning that I have visited several times and will visit several times more. A world we never really leave, we simply distract ourselves from how integral it is to our everyday lives. 

We can all agree that the solemn and dark process of grieving the loss of a loved one is a painful experience that no one would want to voluntarily go through. We don’t have much choice though and, most often, no warning. 

We initially begin the grieving process focused almost solely on the loved one who is gone. Slowly we realize, either consciously or unconsciously, that the deceased is not going to return, transform or suddenly appear nor will the situation change in some surprisingly positive way we can’t imagine. Mourning and grieving is mostly about us, the ones left behind, all in a strangely selfless way. We are the ones called to transformation.

What is difficult to realize and appreciate whilst in the early stages is that as mourners we have been hurled into a life changing process. A process that has the potential to alter us for the better or worse depending on how we face and travel through it. It will change every bough, branch, twig and shoot that was attached to the trunk that is no longer there for us.

There are countless books, counselors, therapists and other sources with advice, guides and suggestions. The truth is that no set rules, guidelines or practices for mourning exist that have proven more effective than others. Mourning is a highly individual process. Only your heart, mind and soul will experience exactly what you’re going through. 

Some people sob uncontrollably at the slightest trigger, others descend into a silent dark seclusion. Some become manic or hyper busy to avoid feeling, thinking and sharing. Some want to talk about it incessantly, without regard for the audience. Some focus on the worst parts, some on the best. Each person has their own personal formula and process for handling a great loss. 

One thing is for sure, besides the pain and sadness, one has to make sure to remain vigilant. Losing someone and mourning can make us vulnerable, susceptible and lead to changes we do not foresee that can be counterproductive or even destructive. Always make sure that a part of you pays attention to what is happening to you and around you as you grieve and mourn.

A rather horrible part of my life serves as a positive example of this. My brother suddenly died in a tragic accident far from home when he was 13 years old. That episode of shock, loss, mourning and grieving began with two policemen showing up at my parents’ house at 3 in the morning to break the horrible news to us. Several aspects of the event added a complexity of additional dreadfulness to the experience that I will not go into here. In hindsight, we are lucky to have made it through as we did.

As a result, I read a good deal about and even witnessed similar tragedies. I know not of the intricacies of their own grieving and mourning processes, but I know the results. Fairly often some degree of destruction or ripping apart happens.

A marriage disintegrates and doesn’t survive. Friendships break apart. Children distance themselves. Deep lifelong depressions take hold. Addictions are born. Guilt and self-loathing pervade. Dark sadness and anger consumes.

My brother’s loss had all the qualities necessary to lead to similar results. Somehow we navigated through our storm on a path that led to healing, growth and strengthening of our relationships. I would be remiss to not give substantial credit to my parents for that.

Although they were going through one of the worst things a parent can experience, they somehow remained strong. Friends, family and community were a big part of that in the early days. Always present for support, generosity, help, kind words and open ears. But eventually life returns itself to equilibrium. Everyone has their own life to return to living. 

After weeks and months the number of visits decreased, the casseroles became less frequent, the listening ears had grown tired of the talk of death, everything sort of slowly went quiet… the world was returning to its rhythm. 

Within the tiny circle my parents and I found ourselves in, we gave each other the freedom to express deep feelings and thoughts. We encouraged crying and laughing in abundance. We gave ourselves mutual permission to be ourselves again, completely, without judgement. All of this, often followed by long stretches of silence, contemplation and peace, a sort of silent communication or meditation between us. All of these things helped us pull through as well as we did.

My mother found solace in books about death, spirits, bad things happening to good people or similar experiences. My father slowly returned to his restoration and business which he always loved and helped keep his mind busy. I turned to the church, and refilled my life with writing, art and architecture.

We were gentle to ourselves and to each other. Each day that passed we learned how to better manage and control the sea of emotions. We cried, we laughed… a lot, we remained silent, we told stories, and experienced things together. All the while, anger, regret, judgement and guilt were fading away from our arsenal of feelings.

Very early on, many people insisted my parents file lawsuits as a result of the tragedy. My parents would very calmly explain that nothing would bring their son back and besides, no one involved had purposely done anything to harm anyone else. That well considered and difficult decision, I believe, was the seed that grew into the way we mourned for my brother without the burden of anger, guilt, judgement or regret.

I wish I could say we knew what we were doing but we didn’t. There was no plan. As I remember it, we felt our way through it. What felt right one day we did, what felt wrong another we eliminated.

35 years later, it still hurts. My parents still often cry when we talk about him or what that experience was like. It’s normal. It’s ok. He was never going to be forgotten. Thankfully we had been there for each other from the moment the policeman somberly spoke to us the news that would change our lives drastically forever.

Mourning is like the waves of an ocean. They can be soothingly still under a blue sky or monstrously crashing within a raging storm. Nonetheless, there will always be waves. Mourning is for a lifetime.

Mourn your way. Let yourself feel and share what you’re thinking and feeling. Cry, laugh and sit in silence. Tell stories, listen, talk. Think of the lost one’s whole life, not just the ending. Meditate, go on walks, go to church, pray, seek a counselor or priest or friend. I can’t tell you what to do. As you are a unique person, so will your mourning be. 

With that, if you insist I give my humble advice on mourning I would say:

• Do not judge others for how they mourn. We do not know the raging storms behind a smiling face. 
• Do not over distract yourself from your mourning. Do not drown in your mourning.  
• Be there for yourself. Be there for other mourners. Be there for non-mourners who do not understand.
• If you feel unheard, do not judge, find someone else who will listen. 
• Don’t hold back your tears. Don’t hold back your laughter for that matter. Tears, like laughter, are essential ingredients of human existence. 
• Never, ever, let anger, regret, judgement or guilt seep into you. Corrosives such as these have no place in mourning. 
• Above all, love. Express your love. Grow your love. Share your love. Strengthen your love. Celebrate your love. Fill your world with love.