One of the hardest realities that we cannot ignore in loss is the repetitive nature of grief that invades our being without notice as if it were the first time we had ever been impacted by the loss.
Most people don’t have any comprehension of the pain involved in the grief that comes from loss. They have no comprehension that it is like we are in another world — another dimension — stuck in the in-between — without the capacity to communicate or connect with those who are there even in our midst.
The dawning reality of loss brings a dread that feels exactly like when the loss first happened. The brutality of the emotions, the starkness of the dread, the despair that swoops like a blade through grass.
It seems so unfair that the grief in loss ought to be so painful as to render our hope forlorn. We have no answer for it. It castigates us into an oblivion of numb dysfunction.
How can it be that a state of acceptance can so easily be replaced by a state of utter depression? In minutes. The repetitive nature of grief in loss reminds us of the trauma of it all.
Shock is something that is so akin to the grief in loss, the trauma of triggering, occurring again and again, where we have nothing to fight back with.
My hope somehow is that the uninitiated would read this and begin to realise the suffering of grief in loss is not only seemingly ten times worse than anyone could possibly imagine, but that the nature of grief in loss is it’s repetitive, with the same sting each time; whether it’s a week or a year (or more) old.
There is hope for recovery, of course. Paradoxically, much recovery, hope and gain is experienced between the repetitive abysses experienced.
A person who is grieving needs empathy and listening when they’re in the abyss, just as much as they need ‘you can do this!’ as they stride forward in hope.
As support people, we can give them this, especially as we’re prayerfully patient amid the tumultuous journey.
