I just returned from a few days of camping.  Right before I left a member of my community very suddenly and tragically lost her 26 year old son to a unexpected illness.  Right after I got back I learned that another member of my community’s husband had a fatal health crisis. These unexpected deaths shatter people’s lives.  For the loved ones, there is no chance for preparation and their sense of trust in the world gets completely lost. I think of the Humpty Dumpty rhyme as people scramble to be of help and support, with nothing to be done to take away the pain and the reality or put things back together again.  I can only tell myself and other people who ask for my advice about how to be of help, that this will be a forever thing. Yes, be there now, but the marathon of grieving is a long and lonely run. Being there for someone in six months, a year, and even 25 years is what we can and need to do.

I recently read a book I found very helpful, called “The Orphaned Adult:  Coping with Grief and Change” (by Alexander Levy).” What I found really resonated with me in my own experience of grief and with so many of the people I know or work with, is the idea of change.  In grief there is a great contrast. The loss of someone is so permanent and final, it is hard to think about change and yet, as life goes on for the living, both the nature of our grief and our very lives themselves are constantly changing.  There are so many layers that unfold over time. For example, in the beginning, after my sister died, I was in such a state of shock. It took me a long time to feel I could use my full brain again. Then, in time, I began to miss having someone to recall our childhood events or compare perspectives to.  And now, 25 years later, I still feel the loss in ever shifting ways. I mourn the children she never had a chance to have, the Aunt she could never be to my children, and getting old together. For my mother, I first mourned the loss of the mother she was when she lived with us, disabled and vulnerable. But over time, I am mourning the mother she was when I was growing up.  I imagine this, too, will change, especially as I get older and closer to the age she was when she got ill.

It is hard sometimes for people to talk about their losses after an average of about six months.  A grief group leader I spoke with verified this as her experience. She notices people join her group at about that stage in their grief process, sharing that they no longer felt they had anyone to talk to.  Other people move on, other losses take precedence, and people feel that either they shouldn’t or it isn’t received well when they bring up their grief. At the same time, for many people, the true nature of their grieving is kicking in; they are coming out of a phase of shock and the reality of their loss is becoming clear.  They are beginning to accept not only what happened and how sad it is, but the changes that will forever be a part of their lives. The plans they had, the future they had predicted, and the ripples of change that loss brings about are being felt.  

So if you are wondering how to be of help to someone, don’t worry, you have time.  It is such a gift to people who have lost loved ones to ask about the person who died or about themselves and talk about the grief, even years later.  It feels good to be reassured that you can keep grieving and that the changes you are continuing to go through can be witnessed and understood by those around you.  I once heard someone describe grief over the long term: the hole inside never goes away, but you grow around it. Being a safe person for someone to talk to, at any point along the journey is precious.  Don’t feel the need to have answers and don’t be afraid that they are still really hurting. Grief is a long slow evolving process – it ages along with the rest of us.