Wherever there's change, there's loss
and wherever there's loss, there's grief.
Bill Bridges
Hello, Everyone,
I have used the quotation above often in workshops and writings and here it is once again. Appropriate for the times, I think ...
So much has changed in recent months and these changes have brought with them loss and grief in abundance, especially for family caregivers already coping with chronic sorrow and helping professionals carrying years of cumulative grief.
Since the pandemic has taken hold, family caregivers have lost already-scarce freedoms, resources and supports - the coffee shops that once provided a brief haven at the end of a morning's respite, the familiar care aides who knew the needs of an ill loved one and didn't require training each time they arrived, the day programs that offered respite as well as support and advice, the volunteers who helped with transportation or yard work or exercise regimes or meals, the warmth and encouragement of a simple hug. Some caregivers have had the worst of anticipatory griefs - standing by as loved ones with worsening COVID symptoms were transferred to acute care facilities, perhaps never to be seen again.
Healthcare professionals have also carried the weight of grief. They've grieved the loss of patients they had hoped to save, relinquished long-held standards of care and infection control, worked without essential equipment, given up contact with their own families, forsaken any semblance of a balanced personal life and mourned the loss of cherished co-workers and friends.
And then, together, we've felt the collective grief of watching as our systems of work, healthcare, education, transportation and economics wavered under the weight of the virus. The tangible losses of unemployment, closed churches and mosques and food insecurity have been multiplied by the broader intangible losses of predictability, control, justice and our assumptions that we could protect the weak and the vulnerable.
This COVID-19 grief is natural and expectable and it will come in waves for a long time after the losses cease. Grief is the way we heal from broken attachments - and it happens automatically provided nothing gets in its way. Grief is a turning inward to reflect, to feel, to recalibrate. There are resources to support this highly individual healing process and we will explore some of them next time.
Paradoxically, the losses stemming from the COVID virus, and their attendant grief, are often accompanied by a sense of deep gratitude. There is something about walking at the edge of life that brings authentic blessings into sharp relief - spring blossoms in a time of death, the kindness of nurses holding phones to unite families in their last goodbyes, messages of support and encouragement painted by children on apartment windows, meals left on doorsteps, 7pm clapping and cheers as healthcare workers change shifts, songs that connect the isolated. We can draw upon this natural pairing of grief and gratitude to nurture ourselves during difficult times.
Brother David Steindl-Rast, the Austrian founder of A Network for Grateful Living and a 93 year old survivor of the Nazi occupation, is a beloved teacher of the practice of gratefulness. In a 2016 interview with Krista Tippett, he said,
A gratefulness practice allows us a pause to heal, grow and reconnect with ourselves, others and what or whomever we hold sacred. It doesn't take away our grief but it does help to balance it. So, when you wake in the morning or before you go to bed at night, take some time to think of - or, better yet, write down - the things for which you're grateful. Some days there will be a long list and other days, as gratitude writer, Sara Breathnacht, says, the only thing you'll be grateful for is that the day is over. Either way, recording your gratefulness will not only help balance your grief in the moment, it will provide a wealth of positive memories from which to draw strength in the future.
Keep well, everyone! I'm grateful for all of you!
Since the pandemic has taken hold, family caregivers have lost already-scarce freedoms, resources and supports - the coffee shops that once provided a brief haven at the end of a morning's respite, the familiar care aides who knew the needs of an ill loved one and didn't require training each time they arrived, the day programs that offered respite as well as support and advice, the volunteers who helped with transportation or yard work or exercise regimes or meals, the warmth and encouragement of a simple hug. Some caregivers have had the worst of anticipatory griefs - standing by as loved ones with worsening COVID symptoms were transferred to acute care facilities, perhaps never to be seen again.
Healthcare professionals have also carried the weight of grief. They've grieved the loss of patients they had hoped to save, relinquished long-held standards of care and infection control, worked without essential equipment, given up contact with their own families, forsaken any semblance of a balanced personal life and mourned the loss of cherished co-workers and friends.
And then, together, we've felt the collective grief of watching as our systems of work, healthcare, education, transportation and economics wavered under the weight of the virus. The tangible losses of unemployment, closed churches and mosques and food insecurity have been multiplied by the broader intangible losses of predictability, control, justice and our assumptions that we could protect the weak and the vulnerable.
This COVID-19 grief is natural and expectable and it will come in waves for a long time after the losses cease. Grief is the way we heal from broken attachments - and it happens automatically provided nothing gets in its way. Grief is a turning inward to reflect, to feel, to recalibrate. There are resources to support this highly individual healing process and we will explore some of them next time.
Paradoxically, the losses stemming from the COVID virus, and their attendant grief, are often accompanied by a sense of deep gratitude. There is something about walking at the edge of life that brings authentic blessings into sharp relief - spring blossoms in a time of death, the kindness of nurses holding phones to unite families in their last goodbyes, messages of support and encouragement painted by children on apartment windows, meals left on doorsteps, 7pm clapping and cheers as healthcare workers change shifts, songs that connect the isolated. We can draw upon this natural pairing of grief and gratitude to nurture ourselves during difficult times.
Brother David Steindl-Rast, the Austrian founder of A Network for Grateful Living and a 93 year old survivor of the Nazi occupation, is a beloved teacher of the practice of gratefulness. In a 2016 interview with Krista Tippett, he said,
To open your eyes and know another day - we can't take it for granted. In my youth, we couldn't take it for granted because every night, the bombs fell. There are all sorts of reasons why you (might not) see another day, and you do. And that's a wonderful thing."His words could apply equally to these days of pandemic. The practice of gratefulness is not about being grateful for the pandemic, itself, nor for the numbing pain and despair of these times. Nor is it about avoiding or minimizing our sadness, anger, fear and confusion. Rather, a gratefulness practice offers the opportunity to experience more than one feeling, in full, at the same time - to know gratitude at the same moment that your heart is breaking with grief. To know sorrow and joy in the same breath.
A gratefulness practice allows us a pause to heal, grow and reconnect with ourselves, others and what or whomever we hold sacred. It doesn't take away our grief but it does help to balance it. So, when you wake in the morning or before you go to bed at night, take some time to think of - or, better yet, write down - the things for which you're grateful. Some days there will be a long list and other days, as gratitude writer, Sara Breathnacht, says, the only thing you'll be grateful for is that the day is over. Either way, recording your gratefulness will not only help balance your grief in the moment, it will provide a wealth of positive memories from which to draw strength in the future.
Keep well, everyone! I'm grateful for all of you!
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