To the One Sitting with Grief
Letters to my patients, day 27
Grief is both a friend and a monster.
A friend who sits beside you, opening your heart to the love you had and lost, prompting the exploration of your sadness and allowing pain to produce healing. Grief gently reminds you that the holidays will not be the same this year, that someone needs to practice baking grandma’s cranberry pie for Thanksgiving. But regardless of whether the pie is there or not, silent tears will fall at the dinner table. Grief assures you that this emptiness is natural, that you are not alone, that it will get better.
And when you do start to feel better, grief is a monster that rears its head at the most inconvenient times. The smell of her perfume on someone near you at a business meeting, a vibrant sunset over her favorite lake, making your own birthday cake because she isn’t there to surprise you with one, singing her favorite hymn in church, curling your hair and realizing it is going grey in the same way hers did. Your heart tightens, eyes sting with fresh tears, and you try to shove grief back into the deep darkness that resides in the pit of your stomach.
While this may feel like an unrelenting cycle — waves of heartache and sadness bombarding your tired soul — grief’s grip will eventually loosen. It happens subtly, this distancing of the monster responsible for depleting your energy and focus every day. But slowly, life begins to move on. Grief only knocks on your door every other day, then a couple times a week, then once a month. A year later you look back to realize it’s been a long time since you cried during a summer sunset. Your heart is healing, life is moving on.
And just when you are tempted to worry that moving on means forgetting the one you lost, grief becomes a friend again. A friend who will gently remind you of the ones you have loved.
When you are grieving, take what you need:
Grief is a friend who helps me heal through the pain of loss.
I will allow myself to sit with this sadness.
It hurts to lose someone I loved this much. I know this pain will get better.
It is okay to find joy again in life, this does not diminish the sadness I feel without this person.
I will not forget the ones I have said goodbye to, no matter how much I have healed.
I will take this one day at a time — it will get better.
Thank you for being here,
Related letters:
This is part of a 31-day series of letters to my patients — those undergoing a work-up, diagnosis, or treatment for cancer. Topics are also focused on those caregiving and supporting individuals affected by cancer. This is not an easy journey, but you do not have to do it alone.
