Endings bring up a lot of things for many folks, and so the end of the year is often both a time for celebration as well as a time of grief. Culturally, the former feels safer and cleaner to talk about than the latter. When people share with their loved ones that they are feeling sadness or grief about someone they lost - whether in the past year or many years ago - there is often a rush (at least in a large chunk of Western culture) to provide assurances, platitudes, and move on from the pain as quickly as possible. It is easier to be mindfully present when the experience is pleasant; when it is painful, we have learned to push away, to avoid. That includes our own discomfort in the face of someone else’s pain - and our own.

I won’t pretend to be an expert on other cultures beyond the one I’ve spent most of my life operating within. However, working as a clinician in a very diverse area over the last six years has afforded me the opportunity of learning bits and pieces about parts of the world I did not know as well before. I have been privileged to learn about how other cultures celebrate and venerate those they have lost, dedicating time and space to recognize the gravity and complexity of their grief. While many faith traditions believe in an afterlife where they will see their loved ones again, that does not make the immediate present - the loss of their loved one from this plane of existence - any easier.

So, too, is it true that telling ourselves or each other that someone who has passed is “in a better place” may not always be what is called for. It may not be the most effective to tell someone that their relationship ended “for a reason,” and that they’ll “find something better.” Or someone who has lost a job - by their choosing or otherwise - that “something else will come along.” These phrases, while well-intentioned, often serve to bypass someone’s complex and painful feelings, when really what they may need is just someone to bear witness and let them know they are seen and valid. To know that their experience isn’t “too much,” and that in that moment, they can be held.

So what do we do when a loved one is moved to tears by their grief and loss, with all the visceral discomfort we might experience along with the urgency to move past it as quickly as possible? One invitation might be to use our mindfulness skills - noticing, observing, and naming without judgment what’s happening inside of us - and be curious about them for a moment. Being mindfully present with both ourselves and the other person for just a moment before choosing how to respond, rather than reacting immediately from a place of discomfort. Maybe, after this pause, responding looks different than it would have - maybe we are able to take a breath and let the other person know that we see them, we are with them, and we are not in a rush to fix anything - because in that moment, as scary as it is to admit, there may not be anything we can do to “fix” what hurts.

Endings

Moralizing Mistakes

“How is it strategy?”

Joseph Fruth, LCSW