Grief and loss are part of everyone’s experience as human beings.  While at times we can anticipate losing someone, most of the time it is sudden and unexpected.  The end of 2023 and the beginning of 2024 have been especially heavy with loss.  My wife’s brother passed away on December 30th, after a long several year battle with cancer.  It was not unexpected, but it still seemed hard to believe when my wife Teri received the phone call in the middle of the night. The amount of loss Teri has experienced in the past 4 years has been difficult.  She has lost both of her parents and both of her brothers.  She is all that remains of her family.  I don’t think she has ever felt so alone, even with me and her two daughters around.  I believe she is trying to cope with the cumulative loss of each family member.  Grief also does not have any timeline as to how long it might last. 

When Teri’s dad passed away a year ago, I found myself reliving the loss of my own dad, from so long ago, when I was just 12.  This occurred again last year when I lost my brother-in-law, who died suddenly of a stroke at 61.  My kids grew up very close with his kids and they were very close to their Uncle John.  My heart broke for his kids as I remembered the overwhelming grief that I delt with, with the death of my own father.  It also hit me that most likely, my kids will experience the same loss from their parents.  I held my daughter especially close at the service, and in some strange way, sensed I was grieving my own future death, as weird as that sounds.

I am also still processing the loss of my nephew and godson, Travis, who was the only son of my oldest sister and died suddenly two years ago at 37.  It has been two years and yet my sister’s heart remains broken over losing her child.  As I mentioned, there is no set time limit on grief.  Grief may change, but it does not go away.  There may be moments where it is out of sight, only to return when a certain song comes on the radio, or specific dates arrive on the calendar. Sometimes the moments of grief hit you in the midst of a very happy moment and just arrive painfully from seemingly nowhere.

The same day that Teri’s brother died, a student of mine was tragically killed in a home gas explosion, along with her husband, her 22-year-old son, and their 19-year-old daughter (who was also a student at the University of Arkansas).  This was very difficult to process, and I found myself feeling guilty for my grief which seemed to pale in comparison to this level of loss.  It has been challenging discussing this loss with my students. But it these moments that really matter, that connect us, and provide support and solace.

To add to these losses, Teri and I also lost a friend on New Year’s Eve to an accidental overdose.  She had overcome such trauma in her past and had been in recovery for a long time.  But life has a way of being too much at times and I recognize the tragedy surrounding the opioid epidemic. Then last week, to start the new year, I lost an old friend to cancer, and my grief is wrapped up in wishing I had stayed in better touch with him the past few years.

Grief also happens in our organizations.  We cannot leave our emotions at the door and should not try.  This past fall, my department chair lost her partner suddenly and everyone in our department grieved together. While it is awkward to cry in the workplace, it is normal and healthy. Our organizations are where we spend a large part of our life, and we form friendships and bonds and connections.  We celebrate events together, and when necessary, we grieve together.  I have been deeply touched by the compassion and empathy that exists in my workplace and am grateful because I know this is not the case everywhere.

I know that everyone experiences loss, and I am not unique in this experience.  But I want to share because of the commonalty of loss.  We all experience grief, and it does not look the same for everyone.  And even for the same person, their grief can vary from moment to moment, sometimes coming in waves that seem to overwhelm us.  Everyone must grieve alone, in our own way.  And yet, we can grieve together.  We can hold space for one another.  We can just be present for someone who is hurting and can’t make sense of their loss.  We don’t need to try and fix it (we can’t), and we shouldn’t try and tell the person it’s okay, or even worse, that they should be over the loss by now.  Sitting with our grief is hard.  And I think often it is even harder to sit with someone else in their grief.  We feel helpless, we don’t know what to say or what to do. 

The reality is there is usually nothing to say, there is nothing to do.  It requires the uncomfortableness of just being present and available to the other person. It is easy to find ourselves trying to make the sadness go away by distracting ourselves, but staying positive, and pretending everything is okay.  This can be dangerous.  It is what the concept of toxic positivity is about. From Psychology Today, “Toxic positivity is the act of avoiding, suppressing, or rejecting negative emotions or experiences. This may take the form of denying your own emotions or someone else denying your emotions, insisting on positive thinking instead. Although setting aside difficult emotions is sometimes necessary temporarily, denying negative feelings long term is harmful because it can prevent people from processing their emotions and overcoming their distress. “And according to Allaya Cooks-Campbell, “Toxic positivity invalidates human experience and can lead to trauma, isolation, and unhealthy coping mechanisms.”

It is easy to find ourselves trying to be positive all the time.  I believe there are many helpful lessons from Winnie the Pooh. One that comes to mind is based upon the general personality of Eeyore.  Eeyore, the stuffed donkey without a tail, is gloomy and sad, and generally pessimistic.  His tribe of Winnie the Pooh, Piglet, and Tigger, loves him no mater his disposition.  He is the anthesis of Tigger, who is hyper and overly happy.  There are days that we are more like Eeyore, when we find ourselves in one of those dark, lonely places, where despair can creep in and overtake us.

The answer is not to avoid those dark moments, but to sit with these heavy emotions, to be patient and compassionate to ourselves, and ride the waves of emotions.  I am always telling myself, “This too shall pass.”  When we consider how everything in this life is temporary and impermanent, it creates the space to let go of expectations, to let go of suffering, and to not get to attached to the high and happy moments, and at the same time, try not to get stuck in those dark gloomy places.  I like an analogy my former therapist used around the image of rooms in a house.  There are many rooms in our house. For instance, one room is grief, one is sadness, and one is anger.  Throughout life, we find ourselves visiting different rooms in the house.  There are times to be sad, to be angry, to grieve, but in the words of my therapist, we do not want to permanently live in that room.  You will find yourself through your life revisiting rooms, some sadness may be revisited, some grief may linger, but we can work on moving through different rooms in the house, as our emotions shift, as we grow, and as we gain new insights and perspectives. And it is okay to from time to time, to return to a room of profound grief, and sit there for a moment, not to fix anything, but to remember, and to recall the love that was shared.

I find so much solace and meaning in music and want to share two songs that have been on my mind these past few weeks. I hope you find some meaning in them as well.

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=eyn9kmuIwqA

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=6tz1_znrbmc

Have a nice weekend!

  “In the depth of winter, I finally learned that within me there lay an invincible summer.”

―Albert Camus