How can we Demystify Death?

Death is the only experience we know with certainty that every single one of us will face. Yet it is the least talked about subject. Avoiding what we fear is perfectly natural; however, when faced with a death, the resulting lack of context, understanding and preparation can make bereavement feel more complex and difficult.

 

The single most common question people tentatively ask at some stage in bereavement counselling is, “Is this normal?” as they share a perfectly natural way of coping with the pain of grief and lack of solid footing they haven’t been able to share with others. The answer is yes, and the behaviour is put in context.

 

To me, grief IS a kind of madness! We are not our normal selves, what we were has gone, been ripped away, and we will never be quite the same person again. Like great love, great loss changes us. This process of change is the land of grief we journey through, often feeling lost and alone – even with others in the same room with us, we can feel alone, isolated, and unreachable in our new and strange land that few people understand.

 

But what if, as a culture, we accepted death as an inevitable part of life? What if we talked about death in the deep conversations, in passing, on the bus? What if we spoke freely about our own grief, how it affects and affected us? What if we owned the madness of grief, the strange behaviours we engaged in to express the inexpressible and endure the unendurable? What if we normalised grieving? There isn’t one behaviour that we might find strange that isn’t practised (and accepted) somewhere on the planet. In Indonesia, for example, the Torajan people keep the bodies of loved ones at home, treating them as if they were still alive for months or even years. In Scotland, we may consider that ‘strange’, but to the Torajan people it will be quite ‘normal’. Many of our ‘strange’ grieving behaviours can be explained by attachment theory; some of the effects of grief can be explained by the trauma response and some by simple neurobiology – how all mammals respond to similar significant changes in circumstances.

 

Maybe if we talked more about death, about dying, about our fears and feelings, our grief and loss, our inevitable feelings of guilt and regret, our out-of-character anger, etc., then our grieving would be just a little bit less lonely, a little less anxiety-producing and a little less alienating.

 

Perhaps if we talked more about death, dying, grief and loss, we could then allow ourselves to feel empathy and compassion for each other, rather than glossing over grief with empty platitudes or even crossing the street to avoid someone because we don’t know what to say. We might learn to simply ask someone how they are today, knowing that every day can be different, knowing that there is no hierarchy in grief – every loss is different – and that even in one family grieving the same person, each family member’s process and timing will be different. We might learn that grief can be ‘complicated’; our grieving might be a lot harder than we expected when the relationship was difficult, even when we were estranged. We might learn that a loss, even a comparatively ‘lesser’ bereavement, can bring up feelings from past losses and therefore feel confusing and disorienting. We might learn that grief and trauma can be similar.

 

We might be able to expect a period of shock and disorientation and allow for that. We might learn that there is no predictable timeline with grief. We might learn that it is healthy to step in and step out of it – that it is fine to laugh and joke soon after the death, and it is fine to sob on the floor years later. We might learn that our relationship, bond and connection with our loved one do not end with their death; the connection continues for the rest of our lives – evolving and transforming. As we slowly and gradually let go of the external bonds, a new connection begins to form inside us. And this new bond, whilst never being the same and never being enough, can, however, never now be lost because it is within us. And we can learn that love never dies.

 

FOR GRIEF  

by John O'Donohue

When you lose someone you love,

Your life becomes strange,

The ground beneath you gets fragile,

Your thoughts make your eyes unsure;

And some dead echo drags your voice down

Where words have no confidence.

Your heart has grown heavy with loss;

And though this loss has wounded others too,

No one knows what has been taken from you

When the silence of absence deepens.

Flickers of guilt kindle regret

For all that was left unsaid or undone.

There are days when you wake up happy;

Again inside the fullness of life,

Until the moment breaks

And you are thrown back

Onto the black tide of loss.

Days when you have your heart back,

You are able to function well

Until in the middle of work or encounter,

Suddenly with no warning,

You are ambushed by grief.

It becomes hard to trust yourself.

All you can depend on now is that

Sorrow will remain faithful to itself.

More than you, it knows its way

And will find the right time

To pull and pull the rope of grief

Until that coiled hill of tears

Has reduced to its last drop.

Gradually, you will learn acquaintance

With the invisible form of your departed;

And, when the work of grief is done,

The wound of loss will heal

And you will have learned

To wean your eyes

From that gap in the air

And be able to enter the hearth

In your soul where your loved one

Has awaited your return

All the time.

 

Elizabeth is based in Moray and recently celebrated her first year as a Volunteer Counsellor with Cruse Scotland. If you are feeling inspired to help bereaved adults, children and young people come to terms with the loss of a loved one, there are several volunteering opportunities currently live. Click here to find out more.

For more information about Demystifying Death week, visit: Good Life, Good Death, Good Grief

If you're struggling to cope following the death of a loved one, phone our Free Bereavement Helpline on 0808 802 6161, we are open 7 days a week (Monday to Friday 9am-8pm, Saturday and Sunday 10am-2pm). Click here to speak to a qualified UK counsellor via GriefChat (Please note this service is available on weekdays only during hours 9am-9pm).