Are all persons purposely shielded from grief as children? When does a person’s grief pattern or cycle begin to form - no, I mean really begin? Is it with our first goldfish death, cat, or family dog? Is that when we get the first glimmer of the mystery of grief in our lives?
I remember, as a young mother, reading from Dr. Benjamin Spock's Baby and Child Care Book<> that baby learns to feel more secure each time we play peek-a-boo, first disappearing from the baby's view and then magically reappearing from underneath the baby blanket. Is the joy exhibited from those baby giggles a true joy from finding oneself not abandoned? Is that moment of confusion exhibited by baby, fear, abandonment, - stretching it here maybe - but grief? Certainly the angst is dispelled when mom reappears.....but again, when does grief begin to impact our lives? If the peek-a-boo games go well, mommy always reappears and there is no permanent damage, but growth.
But revisiting the beloved pet....regrettably, by observation, I learned the live subject (a couple of different doggies) died, usually tragically, in my case, from running into the street in front of a car; I actually saw my father crying when he carried one of those little guys to the back yard burial site – but the crying in front of me was short-lived. My dad must have grieved but I was spared from knowing of that grief. My comfort was to come from knowing that the doggie was now sitting in heaven on God's or Jesus' lap? Or from knowing that the animal could be forgotten, with a replacement animal coming soon?
I don't think the sheltering techniques of my parents were uncommon for that time; I think I grew up in a relatively “normal”, whatever that means, family, grief was hidden from me, I think, to “protect” me, to “shield” me from sorrow, to keep subjects such as grief and death out of my view - children were not supposed to face such issues. Ironically, I wasn’t really shielded or protected from grief, I was only not allowed to speak of it.
I remember when one of my uncles died – he must have been in his early forties, a beloved uncle of mine. I was in my early teens and while my parents went to CA to be with the family there, I recall being devastated by their absence, crying nightly, privately, over the loss of my uncle and over when or even whether my parents would return home. (I had a very sweet, dear aunt who was in charge of my brother and I while our parents were gone, but certainly I wouldn’t have let her know about my crying and fears. I think my baby sister must have accompanied my parents on the trip? My brother was 4 years younger than I - I wonder how he was handling the situation of our parents absence?)
But there was little explanation upon our parents’ return home. Only about heaven and God’s calling my uncle there…..now why would God do that!!! Grieving was concealed – or was it?
In reflection, I've revisited in my thoughts quite a number of death and grieving situations that were part of my early childhood and teen years. They somehow seem relevant to me in reviewing how I face grief now, in my adult life. There is only one significant loss that I share now - the first time I was truly faced with death head on and with my own truly heartbreaking grief - I lost a young woman friend to death in childbirth. Although, she had a perfectly normal pregnancy and delivery,
she accidentally suffocated from vomit while alone in the recovery room.
My immediate reaction upon hearing this news was denial – a loud verbal denial that this could not have happened! I remember sobbing and sobbing. Logically, I thought my grief was unreasonable – an excessive amount of "physical display." I was somewhat shocked at my behavior……it puzzled me for years, taking me a long time to recognize my behavior as simple, ordinary grieving over an irreversible situation – a situation totally out of my control. A friend that could not be replaced by another. A life I would not see again in any other person. I have never forgotten this friend or the news of her death or my reaction to that death. It was, as I said, the first time that I had to truly face grief as an “adult.”
In the years since that first tremendous, impactful death in my life, I have suffered the deaths of my father at his early age, my grandparents, many uncles and aunts, an ex-husband, a very few close adult friends, my mother, and my mother and father-in-laws and amongst all of that – the death of a marrage. I feel fortunate not to have faced bigger losses....losses that could be "less normal" in the scheme of life than those I've faced. I’m grateful to have thus far been spared those greater burdens too painful to even explore.
My point in this whole long rambling is that I believe that each sorrow or grieving event in my life has lead to greater recognition that grieving is an unfinished project that DID start in my early childhood, maybe even when I was a baby, and will continue to be a part of my life as I, along with other human beings, learn to recognize the natural dying that takes place within our earthly bodies. Whatever I observed, was told, or felt myself, has changed the way I experience each death in my life. I believe denial is the cruelest enemy of grief.
Recognizing how much the losses truly personally hurt me physically and mentally serves to loosen denial's grip on my consciousness. Sharing the loss of my friend with all of you - out loud - and in black and white - is for me, the tribute and understanding of how truly important the "lost" person was in my life and in God's creation and that though I learn to live with the loss, as the grief lessens, I am blessed to remember, that the person's life loses no importance but remains relevant in my life and in God's world.