From the chapter on Grief in my upcoming book,
Facing Adversity with Grace.
The poet Dylan Thomas wrote, “After the first death, there
is no other.”
Some have interpreted that line to be a poetic way of saying “we only die
once,” but like all good poetry, it is subject to a variety of interpretations.
For me, it has always meant that once you truly experience the profound
suffering that comes from losing someone you love, you’ll never experience
grief the same way again. But that “first death” isn’t necessarily the first
time you experience death; rather it’s the first time you experience it in a
way that wrenches your heart and soul.
As I write this, I am mourning the loss of my mother, who
died at age 92 after a lengthy period of decline. While my heart aches, hers
was not my “first death.” I experienced that some years ago when, of all
things, a beloved cat died. It was then that I was utterly struck by the pain
and loss that death brings and the soul-wrenching loss of grief. Of course, the grief from the loss of a pet,
no matter how beloved, differs from that of the loss of a human, as it rightly
should. But the one thing that I learned from that “first death” was how I
process the stages of grief made famous by Elisabeth Kübler-Ross (denial,
anger, bargaining, depression, acceptance).
The fact is that we all process grief in our own unique
ways. Some are stoic, keeping a steely
countenance and dealing with the emotions internally. Others are wild-haired and vocal in their
suffering, keening and wailing both literally and figuratively. The comfort that comes after once having
experienced real grief is that from then on you know your own reaction, the way
you will cope and process it. And, in
addition, you know that you will get through it. Along with recognizing the stages of pain,
you can begin to see the stages of healing as well.
For me, I know that I pass through the stages of denial,
bargaining and anger relatively quickly, but become ensnared by depression and
deep sadness before I finally come to acceptance. For me, some time after a grievous loss, even
the most sunny of days is tinged with grey clouds in my soul. But I know, too, that when I first begin to
sense a quickening of hope and a calm, no matter how momentary, that the
healing is beginning. It may take a long time, especially when the loss is as
profound as that of my mother, but having lived through grief before, I also
know that healing will come, in its own time and own way.
I just have to be patient with it...and with me.
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