Loving in the Face of Loss
"The risk of love is loss, and the price of loss is grief. But the pain of grief is only a shadow when compared with the pain of never risking love."
- Hillary Stanton Zunin
Many years ago, in conversation with my friend and colleague, Yvette, about the nature of attachment, loss and grief, she startled me with a frank and profound declaration: “All love ends in loss. You leave, or I leave…You die or I die. Every hello we experience has a goodbye attached”.
Oomph. Ouch. And sad, I thought. But in time, as I sat with the truth of what she shared, I realized it was actually quite freeing. And a bit terrifying. Because what it called me to accept was the utter impermanence of everything and everyone I knew and loved. And having already suffered the pain of intense grief over the loss of so many loved ones, I wondered if my heart was ever going to truly be able to open again – to attach to someone – knowing the inevitability of the goodbye that would one day come. This conversation supercharged my exploration into mindfulness and how acceptance of suffering was a way to build resilience for my tired, grief-soaked heart.
A few years ago, I met an amazing young woman, Novelette. She came to get bereavement support after experiencing multiple losses and we connected right away. Kindred spirits. When she decided to go through the volunteer training program I was running, to become a peer bereavement support facilitator, my first response was panic. You see, this incredible being was living with a life-limiting illness: the same one that took so many of her friends and chosen family members. We had bonded over our shared experience of disenfranchised grief and multiple loss. And, our passion for normalizing talking about grief in a world that would rather us just quietly “get over it”.
I tried to keep from opening my heart to Novelette in the training. I kept thinking about all the volunteers I had trained during my years in HIV/AIDS who had eventually died. And how painful that was. Did I really want to go through that again? She was so awesome in the training – so wise and compassionate – that I couldn’t resist. It didn’t take long for her to become my right-hand volunteer and co-trainer. Novelette continues to offer a powerful and unique perspective on life and grief to the dozens of clients and volunteers who have had the good fortune to cross paths with her. She has also become a cherished friend.
Sometimes I feel like a terrible person for initially wanting to shut myself off from connection to Novelette. I would have lost so much had I succumbed to my fears. I’m so grateful for the work I’ve done to accept uncertainty, breathe into fear and embrace life in the face of loss.
Sounds great, you might be thinking. But how do we heal those gaping holes in our hearts? Especially now, after two years of COVID-related losses – how do we learn to live with our grief? It’s not easy and it takes work. But one of the most powerful tools in our toolkit is turning to one another. The potential of peer/mutual support to help us integrate these painful experiences cannot be overstated. I hear time and again from newly bereaved (and not so newly bereaved) people about the comfort and relief they feel when they have the chance to connect with someone who has experienced a similar loss. “Finally, someone who understands.” “It’s so good to talk with someone who really “gets it”. “I thought I was the only one who felt this way.” “If they can survive, maybe I can too.”
Sharing our stories – of pain and loss and struggle, but also of surrender, coping and hard-won wisdom – is one of the best ways I know how to begin to heal our wounded hearts and find a way to learn to live with grief.
I know that I’m never going to stop missing my parents or any of my beloved friends, chosen family members, colleagues and volunteers that I’ve lost over the years. Because of my experiences with multiple loss and grief, I also know that every “hello” that I experience in my life automatically comes with a “goodbye” attached. And I have two choices in how I respond to that reality. I can close up my fragile, broken heart to the world and choose to never love again. Or I can step boldly and confidently (and some days, tentatively and cautiously) into each new day determined to find moments of joy, beauty, peace and even love, trusting that my heart is strong enough to receive whatever comes into my path.
With Valentine’s approaching – yet another day focused on love and family that can trigger us into a painful grief spiral - I invite you to take a few minutes to think about the parts of yourself that maybe require a little more patience, nurturing and acceptance. Opening our tender, bereaved hearts to the love of the universe is a scary thing – but I believe it’s also the only thing that can truly heal us. Send yourself a Valentine of loving-kindness today. Forgive yourself for the mistakes you’ve made, be gentle with yourself when you struggle with your grief and know that you are, like the rest of us, a beautiful work in progress.
I feel so fortunate to have had the best teachers along my journey. Some, like Yvette and Novelette are still here, others have passed. There are spaces in my heart that will never be filled. And that’s okay. An enduring practice that helps me stay well in this work is gratitude. I give thanks for the many moments of connection that my battered and bruised heart is still able to form. I remember all the gifts and privileges I have – from a safe and warm place to lay my head to food in the fridge to uproarious laughter and my friends who really “get me”. I ask the universe for patience and grace to accept whatever comes into my life and then I just hope for the best. As I close my eyes at the end of the day, knowing that there are many other beings out there feeling similar spaces in their heart, I try to send out bits of loving energy and hope that somehow they land where they are most needed.