Grieving The Living
I've been talking with a lot of people lately about grieving the living.
I don’t feel like we talk about it enough as a society.
Or maybe we do and I just haven’t been listening.
I will admit I haven’t encountered much death in my life. So grieving the dead isn’t something with which I am well-acquainted.
But grieving the living? I have become a near goddamn expert.
From what I can tell, grieving the living is a unique kind of grief. No less potent than grieving the dead; it comes with its own particular difficulties and sadnesses.
Quite often grieving the living means bearing the weight of the heaviness of a loss of how you wanted things to be.
Grieving the dead is bearing the weight of losing how things actually were.
But when you finally set the boundaries with the living, that’s when you accept that things can never be how you wished them to be all along. Most likely they could never be how they should have been all along.
THE single hardest grief I have encountered lately is the loss of a living parent. Out of all the losses as of late, this is the one that has left me the most resentful and sad and angry and a bit bitter.
But forgiveness is one-sided and I have learned to practice/am in a continual process of practicing forgiveness.
(Note: Reconciliation takes two and is nothing <NOTHING!> short of a divine miracle. All we can control is our own response to a situation, which is why forgiveness without expectation of reconciliation is a gift we give ourselves. It gives us agency and peace and power in a situation that could otherwise consume us.)
As someone with at least some empathy, forgiveness seems to come rather easily to me. But I will admit it’s a cyclical thing that goes like this:
Something pokes at me to remind me how freaking unfair it is to have to grieve a living parent.
I get sad for myself.
I get bitter.
I remember I’m grieving this parent because they have their own undealt with trauma.
I get sad for them.
I forgive.
I have to remember to have empathy AND keep my boundaries.
(Say it with me: EMPATHY AND BOUNDARIES)
And sometimes this cycle lasts mere seconds.
Having a relatively systemic view of life means I can view WHY things are the way they are. It doesn’t take away the sadness and grief, but it sure allows me to have empathy. And ultimately empathy saves me.
For those of us who have had to grieve a living parent, there’s a particular sense of injustice over the ways this parent formed our worldviews, normalized dysfunction, and couldn’t love us without conditions.
Parents teach us how we deserve to be treated. They should teach us of our inherent worth–no strings attached. And GOODNESS GRACIOUS, as a parent myself, this scares the eff outta me.
Because I am absolutely messing this up.
But from what I can tell and have learned, it’s okay to mess up. To err is human, and our kids need human parents. Having perfect parents would set any mortal up for an impossible standard. The real issue is we have to OWN the mess up and do the repair.
To this we all say: Wait. The best thing we can do is ADMIT OUR MISTAKES????? Not hide them???? Sounds uncomfortable.
But hiding them doesn’t fool anyone (well, it might for awhile, but truth cannot hide in the dark corners forever. Even the dimmest light reveals them.)
And admitting them to our kids and apologizing teaches them that we will fail and that our failures are not about them or because of them. Their existence doesn’t cause us to fail. Our failings aren’t what they deserve.
It also models to them how to deal with their own errors. They get to admit them, do the repair, and strengthen the bond. And ultimately, like kintsugi, the repair makes the cracks stronger and more beautiful.
[[Before I go forward, let me add that our parents did the absolute best they could. We are doing the absolute best we can. I truly believe every human does the best they can with the information they have. Which is why we need people in our lives to show us a better way. We work within the systems we know, and Every. Single. System. Is. Broken. So we are broken. We will never be whole, but we can surely open our eyes wider to better, healthier ways to live. We have to do the darn work to make a better life for ourselves and future generations.]]
If you are grieving a living parent, that means while you were growing up you might have learned some really messed up things. Like possibly that invalidating your emotions is correct, because it was never identified as a mistake.
You might have learned that gaslighting you was okay, because it was never identified as a mistake.
You might have even learned that you MAKE others feel certain ways; it’s your fault when someone reacts a certain way to you.
You might have learned that you’re too much.
Too emotional.
Too irrational
That you make big deals out of things that you should perceive as small.
Ultimately, you probably learned that you take your own boundaries too seriously.
So you stopped having them.
And this formed every single relationship you have. Because your parent(s) was/were your first and most important teacher(s).
Our parents may give us our shit to deal with, but once they do, it’s ours. And it leaves you with two options:
Wallow in bitterness and sink deep into your thoughts about how unfair it is and how you’re such a victim, or
Decide you will break the cycle and chase your health.
Chasing your health is so much freaking work. But it is so, so worth it.
When you start chasing health and your eyes are opened, it can break you open to bitterness, resentfulness, and so much heartache.
But when you take those broken pieces and start to heal, your heart has already been cracked wide open to receive understanding, love, and grace (for yourself and for others!) that you’ve never been able to encounter before.
Just remember it doesn’t mean you shouldn’t feel the grief and the weight of the loss of the living. It hurts terribly to have a favorite person become a life lesson. And you’re right in thinking that you should have gotten better. It’s not fair.
But the most unfair thing to do is to keep cycles going and not break them. Whether or not you have children, you have the chance to do your part in breaking cycles. So if you’re grieving, it could also mean you’re doing the work. And that is amazing. The more work you do, the fewer others will have to grieve you.
What a gift to the world.
Be that kind of gift to the world.
