The Weight of Grief – Part 1

I remember it all too clearly – the first time after Chad’s death that I was confronted with a row of tiny boxes requesting my “marital status.”

Single. Married. Divorced.

The question, one I’d answered hundreds of times before in my single and married life, now felt cruel and intrusive; a literal reminder that my life no longer fit neatly in the box that it used to.

I felt the hot sting of tears coming to my eyes as I sat there paralyzed, pen in hand, head down, staring at the form on the clipboard in my lap. I was pretty fine, as fine as a person whose husband just died could be, until I came to that question. Then all of a sudden, I’m trying not to ugly-cry in the middle of this office, in front of all these people who don’t know a thing about me or my situation.

The early weeks and months after loss are filled with phenomena like this. I call them grief landmines. One minute you’re okay. The next, you’re accosted by something you never saw coming, something so insignificant to everyone else. And without any warning at all…

BOOM.

By the time you realize you’ve stepped on a landmine, your composure has already been vaporized by the force of your emotions literally exploding out of you.

In the first days after a death, you’re literally triggered by just about everything. It feels as if everywhere you turn, something is put there to mock your loss… The sign for their favorite restaurant. The brand of mints they used to like that are by the register at the grocery store. The song on the radio. The truck next to you at the stoplight that looks like theirs. Happy people, because you used to be happy. Sad people, because you are sad. Married people, because you used to be married. Fathers, because your kids used to have one.

Every memory you have hidden in your brain connected to the person who has died will find a way to leap from the recesses of your frontal lobe to the forefront of your conscious in an attempt to relate to whatever you are experiencing, wherever you are. Every single thing you encounter throughout the day illuminates the giant hole in your heart where your person used to be.

It doesn’t matter whether the person who died was a sibling, spouse, parent, child, or close friend. The sudden crippling of emotional landmines is not unique to any specific type of loss. If you know someone who has lost a loved one, they have experienced this.

It’s estimated there are about 110 Million unexploded landmines still buried across the globe. This number feels accurate for grief landmines as well.

If you’re a griever, you no doubt understand this all too well. We often find ourselves paralyzed and unable to explain what’s just happened, while our friends, and even strangers, ask us repeatedly, “What’s wrong? Are you okay?”

If you’re supporting a griever, you can look for some tell-tale signs that the person you care about has just encountered an emotional landmine – things like blank stares; sudden withdrawal from conversation; sudden and unexplainable nausea; sudden crying (obviously), although most people get good at keeping the tears at bay until they’re alone; the need to leave immediately; and even sudden outbursts of anger.

What can you do if someone you love seems emotionally bewildered all of a sudden?

1. Help them process the trigger. Ask them open-ended questions that open a door to actual conversation instead of “Are you okay?”

If you ask, “Are you okay?” you’re going to be told, “Yeah, I’m fine.” 99.9% of the time, and chances are, they’re less than “fine.”

2. I’d even go as far as to suggest confronting the obvious, in a compassionate way of course – “Did something upset you? I noticed you shut down all of a sudden when xyz happened.”

Grieving people already feel awkward and like such an emotional burden to those around us. It’s a giant relief if someone wants to know what’s going on in our heads as opposed to feeling like we have to keep it locked inside because we’ll ruin your day too by just dumping it on you.

3. Listen. Don’t problem solve. Don’t try to make sense of it. There is a good chance it won’t make sense to you. After all, it wasn’t your person that died. Even if you knew the deceased person, you didn’t have the same relationship with them, so their grief triggers are most likely drastically different than yours.

4. Respect the need for space. Everyone processes differently. More experienced grievers may identify the trigger, why it affected them, and are okay talking about it right away. Others might need time alone to think about what happened and why it was so upsetting before they’re ready to talk about it.

Whether the person is capable and willing to verbalize what just triggered their grief right then is not important. What is important is that they process it in general. If the person seemed closed-off in the moment, follow up with them later and offer support, letting them know you’re willing to listen if they want to share what’s going on in their head.

Memories of the person we loved the most can be hard to contend with, but one thing I’ve learned through my grief process is that sharing memories of my husband makes the weight of my grief feel lighter, even if it takes a few hours or days before I’m ready to talk about it.

5. Resist the urge to make their grief about you. This can mean a lot of things. This topic will eventually get its very own post, as I feel it needs to be addressed in depth, but for starters, saying things like “I wish you weren’t so sad” or “Please don’t cry” are not helpful at all and implies that our emotion making you uncomfortable is your biggest concern, even if it’s not.

Instead, I’d suggest something like “I’m sorry this has upset you. Do you want to talk about it?” or “I might not fully understand, but I’m here for you.”

6. Give them a hug. Pat them on the shoulder; whatever level of physical touch you feel is appropriate for your relationship with them. A simple hug from a caring friend can be the thing that keeps a grieving person from being completely overtaken by waves of emotion when they’ve stumbled upon a landmine.

7. Lastly, and this is more general advise, but don’t back away from the grieving people you care about. You aren’t going to trigger us by saying our person’s name or telling us a funny story you remember about them. The opposite is actually true.

As months and years go by after a loss, it feels like the world has totally forgotten the person who is still so dear to us. Hearing people speak their name and share memories is a comforting treasure, as it’s validation that they are still loved and missed by others besides us.

Grief is heavy, and it’s not well-carried alone. If this is someone you truly care about, don’t walk away. Lean in.

So what did I do about the boxes?

It didn’t seem fair that divorced people got their own box, being that they’re technically “single” as well, so I passive-aggressively drew my own box out to the side and wrote ‘WIDOWED’ in all caps next to it and put a giant ‘X’ in that box.

On to the next landmine…