A major puzzle, or conundrum, for bereaved people is how to deal with the misguided assumptions and beliefs that others may hold about the bereaved condition.

After Collette died, I attended a Reflections session where I discovered that there was a time structure built into the way bereavement support was to be offered. There has been, and most likely still is, a general belief that once a bereaved person lives through a magic yearly life cycle, he or she will somehow be much better. While this may be true for some, I can assure you that very few, if any, of the more than one thousand bereaved people that I have met would agree. Time, of course, is a great healer, but neither I, nor anyone else, can control the passage of time in our lives.

The success of the walking and social groups is due, in part, to a realization that all members are in the same situation, that just being together is helpful, and that time is not important. People will say, with respect to the bereaved, “But they seem to be so happy.” My answer is, “Of course they are happy; they are in a safe place with friends who understand.”

Occasionally, someone comments on the time frame of a new relationship. This is usually simply a chance remark, but it can be hurtful. I usually remind the person, gently, that we are not to judge. Any new relationship is simply a gift regardless of time, age, or other factors.

At a Hospice Conference in Winnipeg, two women gave an excellent talk about the Myths of Bereavement. The presenters’ had very strong views on the word, closure, as it is commonly used, with respect to the bereaved experience.

We have permitted folks to use the wrong word for far too long. I doubt that anyone can bring closure to those affected by the trauma of loss. Comfort, yes, understanding most likely, perhaps even acceptance, but closure as the word is commonly used is an unlikely outcome.
John Ralston Saul comments on this notion of closure:

Closure is one of the curious naiveté’s in old fashioned Freudian analysis-that there must be closure on issues before the patient can move on. There is never closure on any issue. We move on because we are able to debate the issues, not because we have left them behind.

To believe that something is resolved is to freeze ourselves into a static limbo where we are passive by conviction and dangerously exposed to the whim of anyone with ambitions.

 

We should pay particular attention to what Saul is suggesting about being dangerously exposed to those with ambitions. He is pointing out that, if one is passive by conviction, there are those who will sense the vulnerability and use it to suit their own ends. This result can occur in many ways. One of the most common cons is the prospect of seemingly endless and costly visits to bereavement experts.

I have heard friends of mine talk about letting go of their loved one. Usually, someone else has suggested that necessity to them. I have often wondered where and how this expression originated and what it actually means. Taken in its simplest terms, this expression sounds very much like closure. If that is the case, then we have to be very careful when talking to bereaved people. I know well over a thousand bereaved people and I can say, truthfully, that I have never met a single one who has either forgotten, or wants to forget, the loved one. Those who seem to have all of the answers are usually the ones who have never experienced the death of a loved one.

The bereavement process is an extremely private part of a person’s life, and given time, most, if not all, will find some measure of peace with the loved one’s death.
From time to time, I listen to bereaved friends who are dismayed to tell me that even a few years after the death of loved ones, they have had an overwhelming sense of loss recently. Usually it turns out that they had been led to believe that, after a particular time, the sense of loss would diminish. I always listen carefully. Then I talk about how, even after sixteen years, I still have visits with Collette on a regular basis. I lived with this loving person for more than forty-four years, and the last thing I want to do is to forget her and our life together.

I have no way of knowing how others live their lives after the death of a loved one; however, we are social beings, and the only way we learn is from our own experiences and most importantly the careful observation of the experiences of others in the same situation.

One night, during one of our famous monthly potluck dinners, I noticed a man who sat apart from the group of hungry people. He was looking terribly sad. I thought it unusual because, by nature, this man was usually an outgoing happy person. After dinner, I had a chance to talk quietly with him, and he told me his story.

John, I can’t understand what is happening to me. I was led to believe that once a year had passed after my wife died, I would feel so much better, but I just feel terrible.

I could do little to comfort him except to listen and assure him that his tears were good tears and that every one of his friends understood why they were necessary.
I have thought about that evening often since then, and I regret the fact that sometimes bereaved people become convinced that life is predictable. It’s such a shame that people who should know better take it upon themselves to suggest that there is some timetable to the bereavement process. I have been reminded time and time again that if folks are led to believe this, then they expect life to be predictable. The results of this unfortunate belief are devastating and so very unnecessary.
In my opinion John Ralston Saul is completely on target when he says that there is never closure on any issue. Ironically, the word, closure, was even banned by CNN when referring to the events of September 11th 2001.

Henry Scott Holland, the Canon of St. Paul’s Cathedral left us with this suggestion to his loved ones at his own death.

Death is nothing at all. I have only slipped away into the next room. I am I, and you are you. Whatever we were to each other, that we still are. Call me by my old familiar name; speak to me in the easy way which you always used. Put not difference in your tone; wear not a forced air of solemnity or sorrow. Laugh as we always laughed at the little jokes we enjoyed together. Play, smile, think of me, and pray for me. Let my name be ever the household word that it always was. Let it be spoken without effort, without the trace of a shadow on it. Life means all that it ever meant. It is the same as it ever was; there is unbroken continuity. Why should I be out of mind because I am out of sight? I am waiting for you, for an interval, somewhere very near just around the corner. All is well.

I have read these inspiring words many times and have heard them read at a few funerals. Why should I be out of mind because I am out of sight? This thought is reassuring. Written nearly one hundred years ago, this piece is so valid today when we hear people talk about closure with respect to bereavement.

There is much more to be said about bereavement myths. With a young woman, Sharon, bereaved in her early forties, I had the opportunity to co-present at a Hospice conference. Our gender and age differences enabled us to explain how and why the myths of bereavement are sometimes tailored to the age and gender of the bereaved and to how a person at a particular stage of life may be perceived.

Sharon and I are companions in grief. We come from different backgrounds. We followed different educational paths. She is a physician. She has no children. I was a public servant. I have five children and eight grandchildren. We share the loss of our respective loved ones, but the spousal age difference at time of death was over thirty years. I have remarried. She has not. Both of our partners were cared for by Victoria Hospice. We met in one of the walking groups, she as a walker and I as a volunteer.

In preparation for our presentation, we listed, separately, the Myths of Bereavement that we have both encountered. The following issues represent the combined focus of our presentation.

• People don’t die; losses don’t happen. We call this The head in the sand syndrome. There is no need to dwell on this fact of life, but to deny its existence is unrealistic. Remember those marriage vows Till death us do part.?

• Grief follows a timeline. Time does help us in our bereavement journey but those who suggest that the bereaved person will get over it have a lot to answer
for. People do accept their losses but only in their own good time.

• You will know what grieving people want. Perhaps you will if you are a bereaved person. What bereaved
people want is not advice but someone who will listen to their stories. They do not need anyone to solve their problems. They need respect for their loved ones and acknowledgement of the lives that they have lived.

• Every one’s grief looks the same. This is simply a cruel thing to say! This attitude does not respect the individuality of human beings. Our grief is our own, and nobody has the right to take it from us, or worse, compare it to another’s.

• Only family members grieve. Those who say this forget about the friends that one makes during a lifetime, however short that may be. We have lost friends that
we still think of most days.

• Grievers are best left alone. We are social beings. We need each other. What helped us most were family members and walking group friends. To leave people alone in their grief is a cop out. That’s just plain wrong.

• Grief is solely an emotional reaction. How can we explain my two subsequent heart attacks, or the physical symptoms that others experience? Our lives have been turned upside down. We are alone. Coming home to an empty house is very difficult. We have to make serious changes in lifestyle. Perhaps money is a problem, too. Loneliness is a physical reality.

• People should leave their grief at home. Grief envelopes the whole person. It is unlikely that anyone can switch grief either on or off to suit anyone or any situation. The worst thing a bereaved person can hear is silence!

• The person who died can be replaced. You are young; you will find somebody else. These kinds of remarks are simply
thoughtless, and they can be very cruel. Short of cloning, nobody can be replaced. Claire and I have a happy marriage, but John and Collette are both part of our lives. Claire didn’t replace Collette, and I didn’t replace John even if we have the same names.

• When one is younger, one gets over the loss sooner. I know over fourteen hundred bereaved people, and I see no difference in grieving however young or old people may be.

• People are prepared to die. As one gets older, it is normal to think about life span. However, when it comes to making a commitment to another, age doesn’t seem to come into the picture. I think older people enjoy the good things in life as much as young people, but they may be a bit wiser. Hope for the future and acceptance of life and death are found everywhere and in every age bracket.

• There is a normal age to die. The life span of humans, all things being considered, is well known. We are fragile, and we are careful, but life is uncertain. I think it best to forget the horrendous mass of statistics and enjoy life. Collette died at sixty-five which is comparatively young; Sharon’s Bob died at an even younger age.

• We receive all of our support from our families. People seek and receive support from many sources, and they slowly learn about what and who helps best. Sharon
has gone back to running and writing. I am an amateur writer and have become more involved with the Canada-wide Hospice awareness concept. Most of our help has come from our wide circle of bereaved friends. We must also acknowledge the fact that in the Canadian Mosaic there are many cultural differences relating to how bereavement support is given within the family and community circles.

• Other people will know how you feel. We have yet to meet the person that knows how we feel about anything unless, of course, we tell them. Many people say this at the time of a gathering, and it is, most likely, just something to say.

• Everyone has the same belief system. The concept that we all must have the same belief system has caused countless wars and unbelievable hardship throughout the ages. We must be very careful not to impose our faith and beliefs on another, especially at the time of bereavement.

• Everyone has to cry. Nobody has to do anything, and frankly, anything that people do in their times of bereavement belongs to them alone.

• Grief follows stages or steps. Of all the people we have met, no one has followed a recognizable series of stages or steps in a way that we could understand. At times, memory of a past event or even a song lyric can bring back an overwhelming sense of grief for any bereaved person. The past is always with us as bereaved people soon learn. The stages / steps concept could lead people to believe or even to anticipate that once they get past this or that stage, life will be better automatically. Life becomes better for a bereaved person whenever the loss of a loved one is accepted, regardless of timing.

• Professionals will fix our grief. Nobody can fix anything they can’t see or hold. A good listening professional can help a bereaved person understand the situation, but the real help, or the perceived fix, has to come from within.

I have begun this section with a discussion about the most commonly expressed misconceptions or myths related to the experience of bereavement. There are other perplexing realities which bereaved people may encounter.

What follows is a discussion of some of the puzzles, or conundrums, which we bereaved people are constantly trying to resolve.