Sorry for your loss ...

Grief is a healthy emotion, and it's healthy to embrace it. By accepting loss, we clarify our values and the meaning of our lives.

Dean Koontz, Forever Odd

So, when I heard "I am sorry for your loss", I wondered why we use the word "loss".  We could say, "I am sorry your husband (mother, father, son, daughter) died."  In the case of an unexpected death (not that any death is expected), this takes on a whole new meaning for the grieving.  It implies that the one who died can be found - and it feeds into the denial that this person has really died.  To be responsible for is fundamental to "loosing".   I would often feel that to have lost Bill, I had to have been irresponsible, that I had not taken care of him or that I had not been paying attention  to where he had gone.  If Bill is lost, where did I lose him? What exactly did I lose?  When I first began to think about these questions, I really felt that the choice of the word "loss" was cruel and thought it to be out of fear to call it what it really is "death". 

In my conversations with others, I would state that the use of this word "loss" was wrong.  However, I am beginning to see that my argument is flawed, because "loss" includes more than the physical realm it also includes emotion, thought and spirit.

My perceived reality said that in all that I did and all that I was, it was in relation to Bill.  We were attached; and now we were unattached.  I had lost my sense of being connected, of knowing where my place was in the world. I had lost my place. My journal tells the story of questioning "Where am I without you?  Who am I if not your wife?"  I felt like I was a torn picture where the other half was gone.  Bill and I did everything together; okay maybe not absolutely everything because there is still privacy in marriage for certain things!  But where you saw Bill, you saw Ginette - groceries, walks, the mall, ball hockey, picking up the kids from work, you get the picture.

My reaction to this loss was primitive and uncontrolled. I would pace the garage, throw myself on my bed or simply stand in the middle of a room feeling like I had been punched in the gut, causing me to double over in pain, and crumpling inward, in an effort to ward off the blow.  I would go on and on ... "Where are you Bill? Why can't I find you?  I can't believe that you are gone!  Was I careless? Did I not love you enough? What did I do so bad in life to deserve this? What if I had insisted on going to the hospital? Why me? Why now?"

Exhausted by these unanswered questions I began to reflect and reach down into my heart.  Recognizing that this was part of my healing, I allowed my grief to speak to me.  My grief, now my friend, would have me ask other questions such as "Where and who am I now? What is my 'new normal'?"  I began by admitting to myself that nothing looked or felt right anymore. The words in my journal describe this lost soul, wandering aimlessly through the halls of the house and roaming the four corners of the garage (that in itself is another story to tell) of going through the motions.  It speaks of the cries of a widow, who only wanted the world to stop and take notice that we were so much poorer without Bill; this beautiful human being was no longer with us.  I see now that I had started listening to my soul.

We grow up being taught to not impose, to not disturb anyone.  It took a lot (and still has me pause) to call out for help, to disturb the silence with my cries.  I have wonderful angels on this earth who will listen, hold my head when I no longer can, and when the chaos has ended I often realize that I was saying to them, I am lost! 

Although I am still not convinced that for the newly grieved, saying "sorry for your loss" is appropriate, I am beginning to make sense of the bigger meaning of the word "loss" and acknowledge its appropriateness to describe the death of a person as a "loss".  It is not necessarily speaking of the physical connectedness but embraces the loss of all the emotional and spiritual connectedness. 

As I read through the pain of my early journal, I've come to realize that my state of being lost is only temporary and that my task of grieving is to find my place in the world again.  I once read that healing is a journey and not a destination and so far, my grief is moving me in the right direction. 

I will one day find my "new normal" and be okay.