These Indonesians unearth their deceased loved ones every few years

People lift the coffin of Liling Saalino to a stone grave, or Liang, during a burial ritual, or Rambu Solo ceremony, in Lemo village, Toraja, South Sulawesi, Indonesia. During the procession, people chat “Tau Tae Sengke,” which means nobody should be angry.
People lift the coffin of Liling Saalino to a stone grave, or Liang, during a burial ritual, or Rambu Solo ceremony, in Lemo village, Toraja, South Sulawesi, Indonesia. During the procession, people chat “Tau Tae Sengke,” which means nobody should be angry.

It is said that Torajans are people who “live to die.”

For this Indonesian ethnic group, funerals are such extravagant events that they sometimes attract tourists. Families can postpone burials years (and the deceased are considered sick and hosted at home until the funeral) until the family can raise enough money and gather as many relatives as possible. And then it’s a jubilant multiday social event with a parade, dances and animal sacrifices.

Agung Parameswara photographed these funerary practices when he traveled to South Sulawesi province, where the Torajans live. But often, their funeral isn’t the last time the dead are seen.

In August, crypts are opened, coffins are slid back out and bodies delicately unsheathed. This tender ritual is known as Ma’Nene, which is customarily performed every few years. In this practice, which honors the Torajans’ ancestors, corpses are washed and dressed in new outfits. They may be treated to betel nuts and cigarettes, sometimes even taken back to the place where they died. And, finally, they are wrapped in new shrouds and replaced in their freshly repaired coffins.

Parameswara was moved when he saw the family of Yohanes Tampang bring him a new pair of sunglasses, which he loved to wear while he was alive. They touched his body and introduced him to new family members.

People carry the coffin of Liling Saalino as a part of the Rambu Solo ceremony. When a person dies, pigs, chickens and buffalo are sacrificed, as the locals believe that the animals carry the soul of the deceased into heaven. The number and type of animals killed reflect the social status of the dead person.
People carry the coffin of Liling Saalino as a part of the Rambu Solo ceremony. When a person dies, pigs, chickens and buffalo are sacrificed, as the locals believe that the animals carry the soul of the deceased into heaven. The number and type of animals killed reflect the social status of the dead person.
The burial ritual for Liling Saalino.
The burial ritual for Liling Saalino.
Villagers and relatives gather as they prepare for a parade during the Rambu Solo of V.T. Sarangullo in La’Bo village, Toraja, South Sulawesi, Indonesia. After the animals are killed, a feast is thrown and the body of the deceased placed in a stone grave, or Liang.
Villagers and relatives gather as they prepare for a parade during the Rambu Solo of V.T. Sarangullo in La’Bo village, Toraja, South Sulawesi, Indonesia. After the animals are killed, a feast is thrown and the body of the deceased placed in a stone grave, or Liang.
Men gather during a buffalo fight, or Tedong Silaga, as a part of the Rambu Solo for V.T. Sarangullo in La’Bo village, Toraja, South Sulawesi, Indonesia.
Men gather during a buffalo fight, or Tedong Silaga, as a part of the Rambu Solo for V.T. Sarangullo in La’Bo village, Toraja, South Sulawesi, Indonesia.
Men gather to perform a Ma’Badong dance during the Rambu Solo of V.T. Sarangullo.
Men gather to perform a Ma’Badong dance during the Rambu Solo of V.T. Sarangullo.
Men remove a corpse from inside a Liang as they prepare to perform Ma’Nene in Pongko Village, Toraja, South Sulawesi, Indonesia. In Ma’Nene, bodies of the deceased are exhumed to be washed, groomed and dressed in new clothes. Damaged coffins are fixed or replaced.
Men remove a corpse from inside a Liang as they prepare to perform Ma’Nene in Pongko Village, Toraja, South Sulawesi, Indonesia. In Ma’Nene, bodies of the deceased are exhumed to be washed, groomed and dressed in new clothes. Damaged coffins are fixed or replaced.
A man holds the corpse of Tang Diasik, who died six years ago, as he dries the corpse during the Ma’Nene ritual in Ba’Tan village, Toraja, South Sulawesi, Indonesia.
A man holds the corpse of Tang Diasik, who died six years ago, as he dries the corpse during the Ma’Nene ritual in Ba’Tan village, Toraja, South Sulawesi, Indonesia.
A woman cries in front of the corpse of Marta Ratte Limbong during the Ma’Nene ritual in Ba’Tan Village, Toraja, South Sulawesi, Indonesia. Locals believe dead family members are still with them, even if they died hundreds of years ago.
A woman cries in front of the corpse of Marta Ratte Limbong during the Ma’Nene ritual in Ba’Tan Village, Toraja, South Sulawesi, Indonesia. Locals believe dead family members are still with them, even if they died hundreds of years ago.
Personal belongings of Marta Ratte Limbong inside the coffin including money, a necklace and two gold bracelets.
Personal belongings of Marta Ratte Limbong inside the coffin including money, a necklace and two gold bracelets.

These practices are rooted in Aluk To Dolo, or the “way of the ancestors.” Though Torajans are predominately Christian, they still adhere to these ancient traditions.

Parameswara said via email that he felt that witnessing the rituals reminded him about how important connections with family are in a time when people can be self-absorbed. “Death is not a thing that could [separate] the Torajans people [from] their loved ones,” Parameswara said. “Love for the Torajans is eternal.”

Villagers pray before they perform the Ma’Nene ritual in Barrupu village, Toraja, South Sulawesi, Indonesia.
Villagers pray before they perform the Ma’Nene ritual in Barrupu village, Toraja, South Sulawesi, Indonesia.
The Liang with Tau-Tau, or effigies made of wood in Lemo Toraja, South Sulawesi, Indonesia. These life-size representations of the dead were once produced only for the wealthy. They are guardians of the tombs and protectors of the living.
The Liang with Tau-Tau, or effigies made of wood in Lemo Toraja, South Sulawesi, Indonesia. These life-size representations of the dead were once produced only for the wealthy. They are guardians of the tombs and protectors of the living.
A boy lights incense in front of Lucas Payung’s body before the Ma’Nene ritual in Barrupu Village, Toraja, South Sulawesi.
A boy lights incense in front of Lucas Payung’s body before the Ma’Nene ritual in Barrupu Village, Toraja, South Sulawesi.
Relatives cry as the coffin containing the bodies of Tikurara, Dumak and Limbongbuak arrived at the Liang in Barrupu village, Toraja. The corpses were buried in Makassar a few years ago; this year, the family decided to move the bodies to the stone grave in their hometown. But first, the family performed the Ma’Nene ritual.
Relatives cry as the coffin containing the bodies of Tikurara, Dumak and Limbongbuak arrived at the Liang in Barrupu village, Toraja. The corpses were buried in Makassar a few years ago; this year, the family decided to move the bodies to the stone grave in their hometown. But first, the family performed the Ma’Nene ritual.
A landscape in Toraja.
A landscape in Toraja.

Complete Article HERE!

Three tips for supporting employees in tough times

By Amy Florian

Grief support in the workplace is becoming increasingly important.
Grief support in the workplace is becoming increasingly important.

Our workplace is aging. With about 10,000 baby boomers turning 65 every day in the U.S. and more seniors opting to stay employed, you are probably dealing with serious illness and deaths among employees and their families on a regular basis.

The desire for communication on a more personal level is especially strong in times of transition, crisis and death. So while employees may appreciate your skills in advising them on retirement options, they are now also looking for someone who “gets them” and knows how to support them in their grief.

It is becoming increasingly important to understand the basics of grief support in the workplace. Those who don’t know how to talk about grief may experience a loss of trust and confidence from their colleagues.

Just a few tips to help you:

Even if you have had a similar grief experience, do not say “I know how you feel” or “I understand just what you’re going through.” If you don’t want to alienate grieving colleagues, avoid telling them you know how they feel, because you are always wrong. Each person experiences grief uniquely, based on a host of factors, including their specific relationship with the person who died, their personality and style of grieving, their prior experience of loss, the strength of their support network and their culture.

Instead, use the phrase “How is it different?” For instance: “When my husband died, I felt like I was walking around in a fog for five months. Is it like that for you, or how is it different?” Or, “When my mom died, I kept picking up the phone to call her before I remembered there wouldn’t be an answer on the other side. Have you done that too, or how is it different for you?” In other words, you establish your expertise and yet allow for your colleague’s unique experience.

Avoid saying “Come by my office any time.” First, everyone says that, but few people actually mean that the grieving person can call or see them any time. More importantly, grieving people don’t have the energy and resilience to simply stop by and talk. It seems too risky and they are feeling too vulnerable to interrupt someone else’s normal day to ask for something.

Instead, every time you communicate with grieving colleagues, tell them the next time that you will contact them. “I’ll call you next Tuesday, just to check in on how it’s going and see if you have any questions.” That takes the weight entirely off their shoulders and positions you as one of the rare people who are there for them without them having to give it a second thought.

Implement these approaches to distinguish your workplace and build a more trusting relationship with your colleagues. Remember, when you effectively serve others in the toughest times of their lives, it’s good for them, good for you, and it just happens to also be very good for your workplace.

Complete Article HERE!

Support group helps children share the pain of loss

By

Kela Grooms, 10, who lost her mother to cancer, cries during a group activity with volunteer Julianne Lang
Kela Grooms, 10, who lost her mother to cancer, cries during a group activity with volunteer Julianne Lang

A small voice from the back of the room chimed in as the laughter and chatter quieted.

“I never really smile,” said Kela Grooms. “Even when I’m happy, I don’t really smile until I’m extremely happy.”

The other four young girls seated at the table were quiet, like they understood exactly what Kela, 10, meant.

They had laughed, and they felt OK just then, but sometimes they can feel so sad they can’t explain it. Sometimes they understand why — they’re mourning the loss of a parent or a sibling or grandparent. Sometimes the sadness comes unexpectedly and hangs over them like a heavy blanket.

Each of the children in this group has experienced a traumatic loss of a loved one — a family member usually, but sometimes a friend. Twice a month they meet in a small room at Good Grief of Northwest Ohio, a peer support group for children who have experienced the death of someone significant in their lives.

The nonprofit organization, funded through grants and donations, is headquartered in Holland in western Lucas County. The group has one full-time and three part-time employees. The rest of the staff, including those who run the peer groups, are volunteers. Good Grief serves about 30 families; about 25 children come for each session. There is no cost for families seeking services at Good Grief, and they’re allowed to stay as long as they feel necessary.

Dorothy Mockensturm, the managing director, said the average length of stay is about 11 months.

“It’s up to the families to decide when they feel like they’re done for now,” she said. “The door is always open. Different milestones in kids’ lives can change how things are going.”

On a recent Tuesday, Kela and the other four girls — making up “the middles” age group — started their meeting as they do every time they’re together.

Say your name and tell us who died.

Alena Burke, 9, who was new to the group that night, introduced herself. Her dad died, she said. So did her great-grandmother.

Bailey Clark, 9, said her sister died. On Bailey’s lap was a stuffed Pikachu toy. Her sister would have loved the Pikachu, she said.

Sophia Moran, 8, told the girls her twin brother died.

Caylen Crowl, 9, lost her father.

And Kela lost her mother.

“It’s not counseling. It’s not therapy. It’s a place where kids can come and spend two hours every other week and be with other kids who have also gone through the death of someone significant in their lives,” Ms. Mockensturm said. “Everyone here is going through the same thing.”

Beth Johnston, a three-year volunteer at Good Grief, pulled a stack of cards out of a small plastic bag. On each card was written a different emotion: depressed, frustrated, enraged. The girls played a game, acting out each of the emotions and guessing what each was. It was a way to get the girls to think about the different ways they feel and the emotions they experience.

“How many feel like they might be depressed?” Ms. Johnston said.

That started the girls going. It prompted Kela to say she doesn’t smile as much as she used to.

Kela’s mother, Kristine Grooms, died March 10, 2015, from adrenal cortical carcinoma, a rare form of cancer. She was 37.

“Why don’t you smile?” Ms. Johnston asked Kela. The other girls were quiet.

“It’s still, like, my mother is not here,” she said. “What am I supposed to do? I have a good time in band, but I still don’t smile about it. This is my mother’s saxophone, and I’m playing the exact instrument that she did. It still doesn’t make me smile until I realize if I get good at this, she’d be extremely proud of me.”

Ms. Johnston wanted to volunteer at Good Grief to “pay forward what I’ve learned,” she said. Her fiance died five years ago.

“I found out grief is upside down and sideways. You can be happy and miserable and scream out,” she said. She learned, after about a year of grieving, that she could be happy again, but in a different way.

“I know where they are and what they’re going through,” she said.

Deb Crowl founded Good Grief after her husband, John, died unexpectedly in March, 2014. He was 49.

She and her two daughters, Caylen and Chloe, 13, go to Good Grief. When the girls are in their peer meetings, Ms. Crowl is in one of her own.

Adults who bring children aren’t required to attend a group meeting, but Good Grief offers two: one for caregivers who are helping a child deal with grief and another for caregivers who are also navigating their own grief.

“I think that’s been really beneficial,” Ms. Crowl said. “It’s two-fold for us. We get things that help us as adults and as parents but also help us with our kids who are going through that process.”

Ms. Crowl, whose father died of lung cancer when she was 21, said the peer support has helped her deal with residual grief she never worked through as a young adult.

Sophia Moran, one of the young girls in the “middles” group, held in her hands two butterfly clips. The butterfly represents her twin, Rayden.

About 30 weeks into her pregnancy, Sophia’s mother, Julia Mortensen-Moran, learned her son, who had been so active, died in utero.

Mrs. Mortensen-Moran carried the babies until they were full term, delivering Rayden stillborn. Sophia and her mother attend Good Grief to understand better their feelings about Rayden’s death.

When Sophia started school, she was having a hard time making friends with siblings; they would ask her, “Do you have any brothers or sisters?”

Technically, yes, but explaining and understanding death at such a young age is hard.

Through some Internet searches, Mrs. Mortensen-Moran found Good Grief and, that day, they started attending meetings.

“Immediately it was life changing,” she said. “She had a connection. It’s been great.”

Complete Article HERE!

How To Tell The Difference Between Sadness, Grief, And Depression

By Amy Marturana

The emotions are closely connected, but there are key differences between them.

sadness-depression

We all know what it’s like to feel sad. Sadness is a standard human emotion. It looks different for different people and in different situations, but we all experience it regularly, maybe some of us more vividly than others.

Robin Dee Post, Ph.D., a recently retired clinical psychologist with over 30 years of experience in private practice, tells SELF that sadness is actually a desirable and necessary emotion. “It’s an emotion we sometimes think about negatively and it actually is not, it’s a very adaptive feeling.” Being sad allows us to deal with painful experiences and loss. It can be cathartic and relieve tension. “It also aids in empathy for ourselves and what we’re going through, but it’s also an emotion that can help us access other people’s pain and suffering,” Post explains.

Sadness is also one feature of depression—they’re closely tied, but not exactly the same. Being sad is normal and healthy and will pass; depression has a negative impact on your life and needs to be addressed to get you back to a happy, healthy, functional place again.

If your sadness lasts more than two weeks and is accompanied by other warning signs, it may mean it’s more than just that.

“Mood disruption for two weeks or longer,” is one diagnostic criteria for depression, Post says. The key is whether or not that sadness is paired with other factors of depression—loss of energy, trouble concentrating or making decisions, difficulty sleeping, disruption in eating patterns, feelings of hopelessness, worthlessness or thoughts of self harm.

Depression is also marked by a loss of pleasure in life and activities that once made you happy.

Loss of interest in things that normally excited you, or the inability to find pleasure in any way outside of the thing that’s saddening you, is a red flag. “You could be sad but still feel pleasure about something,” Post notes. “Depression is a pervasive lack of pleasure in things you’re doing.” This can also manifest in social withdrawal.

There’s a fine line between grief and depression, but for those predisposed to depression, it can be a slippery slope.

Grief is a normal reaction to a tremendous loss. If you lost something or someone important, it’s expected for you to be stricken with grief for a long time—much longer than the two-week criterion for depression. And chances are, you won’t find too many thing exciting or interesting or pleasurable, depending on how you grieve and what stage you’re in. “We can’t just amuse somebody out of their grief,” Post says. Many people can and should turn to counseling in a time of loss—it’s a way to help you sort out how you’re feeling and learn the best way to cope.

If you think you might be depressed, you should seek counseling—which can be helpful even if you don’t come out with a clinical diagnosis.

If you’re grieving for a long time and it’s disrupting your life, or if you are struggling to cope with another type of sadness or stress and you’re noticing it’s affecting you physically (you’re not eating, losing weight, not sleeping or sleeping all the time), it’s a good idea to seek professional help. Meeting with a therapist can be useful for identifying coping strategies and working through complex emotions, whether you’re depressed or not. For some people, grief and sadness can segue into major depression. “Depression comes with a biological vulnerability, so not everybody who is sad or grief-stricken will morph into depression,” Post notes. For those who do, it tends to be recurrent, “so it will happen more than one time.” If you know you’re prone to depression and have been treated for it in the past, don’t wait until things spiral. Talk to a mental health professional when you are deeply sad or consumed by grief to keep yourself afloat during the most emotionally challenging times.

Complete Article HERE!

Assisted death was ‘incredibly positive,’ says family of Alberta’s first patient

By Shawn Logan

assisted-dying

[A]t the end, Hugh Wallace still remembered there were 43,560 square feet in an acre.

Surrounded by family on April 19, just before a lethal cocktail was administered to legally end his life, making him the first Albertan to do so in this province, his son asked him the question he feared he may one day not be able to answer.

“Hugh always said if he got to the point where he couldn’t remember how many square feet were in an acre, he didn’t want to go on,” said his widow, Evie.

“At the end, he scored the winning goal in the last second of play.”

Alberta Health Services this week revealed 31 Albertans have so far been granted physician-assisted deaths, two dozen of those coming after the federal government lifted the legal prohibition against the practise in June, following a 2015 Supreme Court ruling.

Wallace, who at 75 had endured a quarter-century of multiple sclerosis before contracting aggressive lung cancer, was an engineer, and at his heart an uncompromising pragmatist, said Evie, who has since become an advocate for assisted death, speaking around the province.

“He wanted to go out with his brain intact,” Evie said.

“He didn’t want to go out in a coma, with a catheter and wearing Depends. That wasn’t him.”

Wallace, like a handful of trailblazers before him, had gone before the courts earlier this year seeking an exemption against the law outlawing assisted death in the Canadian Criminal Code.

In February, Hanne Schafer became the first Alberta woman granted the legal right to take her own life, but, after struggling to find a doctor in her own province, had to go to B.C. for the procedure. A second Alberta woman also went to B.C. to have a doctor assist in her death after a ruling in May.

But Wallace was able to find an Alberta doctor willing to help him die on his own terms, opening the door to others seeking the same release. As of Tuesday, the lead for medical assistance in dying preparedness for AHS, Dr. James Silvius, said two to four patients a week are taking advantage of the service, numbers he admits are somewhat surprising.

Evie said though her husband was suffering in the waning days of his life, he found some comfort in being able to have some control of how he passed on.

“It was an incredibly positive experience,” she said. “He was able to say his goodbyes to everybody and the doctors were fantastic. They were amazing human beings.”

Evie added the doctors involved in his care had meetings with both family and Wallace privately to ensure there were no signs of coercion before he underwent the procedure.

While her family’s experience was positive, the 73-year-old widow noted those who choose assisted death need to make sure everybody’s on the same page, and there are no lingering issues to resolve.

“It’s something for people to really look at their family dynamics before they go through with this,” Evie said.

“If there’s a lot of unfinished business in a family, it’s fertile ground for explosions.”

After 51 years of marriage, Evie said she is left with wonderful memories of the man she deeply loved, and not a shadow of regret about watching Hugh end his own life.

“At the end, we didn’t have any tears left in us. It was a good day.”

Complete Article HERE!

Do not tell someone how to grieve, do not judge someone for grieving their own way

By Megan Roantree

"People told me stories about my dad, some made me cry and some made me laugh, I would be heartbroken if I thought that my laughing would indicate that I didn't care."
“People told me stories about my dad, some made me cry and some made me laugh, I would be heartbroken if I thought that my laughing would indicate that I didn’t care.”

[G]rief is complex.

No one can explain grief to you and no one can tell you how to deal with it. You can speak to counselors, and read approved leaflets on dealing with losing someone and even they cannot tell you how the grief process will work.

So a newspaper certainly has no right to do so.

A well-known newspaper publication recently wrote an article about a young girl who went on a night out. If you’re looking for the news there’s a reason you can’t find it.

The young woman’s mother had died by suicide in a story that was covered in depth by the media, aside from that, this young girl is no different to anyone else who loses a parent.

The story detailed what she wore on the night out and tried to highlight that it was ‘just weeks’ after her mother’s death.

The tone of the story seemed to want to illustrate that there is an issue with the fact that she went out with her friends.

This was two months after her mother died.

A young girl went out with her friends two months after her mother passed away and a newspaper highlighted it as a news story.

This brings to light a very real problem in the media and even in the public when it comes to grief.

This is an example of grief shaming. That is, judging someone for the way they deal with losing someone close to them. Judging them for being too happy, or for attending events, or maintaining somewhat of a normal life on the outside.

No one can tell someone how to grieve. Even those who have suffered from grief can’t judge another person for not doing it in the same way.

Just because someone is seen to be enjoying themselves after a death doesn’t mean they are not sad, and even if they are not sad now, that does not mean that they won’t be at another time.

For many people, laughing, smiling and having fun is a coping mechanism. We are told ‘they would want you to be happy’ and ‘they would want you to enjoy yourself’ but are we judged by others for doing that?

During my dad’s wake, family and friends approached me to tell me stories about what a brilliant man he was, some made me cry and some made me laugh, I would be heartbroken if I thought that my laughing would indicate that I didn’t care.

I remember attending a birthday party about six weeks after he died. For me the more time that passed the harder it got, so a party seemed like something I could do to try and feel normal and to forget about it.

I enjoyed myself, I spoke to people I hadn’t seen in ages, and then, someone came up to me and said ‘sorry about your dad, Megan’. There and then I felt guilty for being there. It wasn’t her fault, she was being kind, but I brought it upon myself to feel guilty, which was obviously completely wrong.

However, if I went on the internet the next day and saw the article previously mentioned, I would have felt a million times worse.

I was thirteen, unlike the woman in the story above, I wasn’t old enough to hit the drink or head to a club, but I’m almost certain if it happened now I’d drink a few whiskeys, I don’t see that would mean that I did not miss my dad.

The newspaper headline purposely phrases ‘two months’ as ‘just weeks’ to make it somehow seem worse and more recent. Two months can fly by after death or it can drag on. But that’s not the point.

Even if it was two days, she had every right to do what she wanted to do.

Grief hit me, when my dad died, but only briefly, only the day of the burial, then it all turned into a weird dream and it wouldn’t hit me again for a few weeks. It comes in and out but never fades away completely. Even now, eight years later I have days that are harder than they were those two months after he died.

Should I still be sitting at home?

If we waited for grief to go away before we left the house, we would never step outside the door again.

Complete Article HERE!

Why you’ll always grieve for the ones you lost

The loss reminds us of love. That we loved, and that we were loved.

By Nivida Chandra

[G]rief is that which makes you feel like a giant void has been created inside of you. In its most awful form, it’s that feeling of having your most vital organs ripped out, and being commanded to live nonetheless.

Various “manuals” of grief will tell you more about how to feel when you’re grieving, including the famous five steps that you’ll go through, and also how long grief should last.

I lost my grandmother in June and some people have wondered openly how it’s still affecting me, three months later. I’m not offended, but it did surprise me enough to think about it. And so I began thinking about the expiration of grief.

The answer lies in understanding the difference between the end of our grief within, and end of grief as it appears to those around us. When thinking about presenting grief to others, I think of tears and rage. This is limited to the immediate aftermath of the loss.

As time passes, irrespective of whether we heal internally or not, the expectation is that the tears and rage transform into smiles and acceptance, supported by cliches on how life moves on. It’s almost as if, with time, we console others about how “fine” we are in the face of loss, and that they need not dig deep to find that right thing to say which will make us feel better.

I think this is because we all implicitly understand how uncomfortable people can feel in the face of someone else’s loss. This is not a good or bad thing, it just is.

While this discomfort is human and true, what is equally true is that it is compounded by a cultural dictation of quotas. People have quotas of how much of our grief they can and want to and should take. The “can” and “want” are prescribed by our personal relations and unique personalities

grief
As time passes, irrespective of whether we heal internally or not, the expectation is that the tears and rage transform into smiles and acceptance.

But the “should” is culturally granted by an unsaid hierarchy of losses. We learn in society what is a big loss, a small loss, and how to respond to different losses.

For instance, parental death warrants more grief, and therefore more support, than grandparental death. And nothing is worse than your child’s death. Similarly, loss of marriage allows for more grief and subsequent condolences than, say, losing a job.

People keep these in mind when deciding how to console and for how long. Beyond that, they wonder, they question sanity, therapists are sought and so on. And I get that. I do. As people we like to be happy, and if something or someone is not being able to achieve that or is dampening our own, we try to correct that.

I get it. But personal grief doesn’t follow these cultural norms. It just goes on and on, till time repairs it or memory obscures it. It’s indefinite. For those viewing someone else’s grief, it passes and people heal, but from the inside, it just changes from open declaration to silent acceptance. It doesn’t end, it just morphs into something more comfortable for others to witness.

How can grief end? When we’re grieving an irreparable loss, we’re faced with finality. Ironic as this may sound, finality doesn’t end. Loss is always final, endless.

I realised today that this endlessness, this feeling of never again, makes me entirely helpless. I’m powerless. This feeling flows from me to the one who’s trying to console me, creating in them the same powerlessness.

Just as we’re powerless against our loss, they’re powerless against our grief. The consolers resort to jokes, to helpful cliches (this too shall pass) and they’re not wrong, neither are they cruel. They’re just insufficient and they will remain so.

So I keep it within (and then find myself writing about it, so not doing a very good job of keeping it within). I grieve in my dreams. I grieve in my memories. But it’s not always so dramatic. I grieve while driving too. Or while writing.

It just manifests in all these private spaces, that’s all. I think a part of us doesn’t want the grief to go away. Because that might delegtimise, within our own heart, how very important that loss was.

The loss reminds us of love. That we loved, and that we were loved.

So I know that when you’re grieving, like me, you too would like to know when the persistent vacuuming of your insides will end. But we’re grieving finality, and we’re grieving the loss of love.

And I think that it doesn’t really end. We’ll always grieve, but maybe we’ll grieve a little less each day, till the grief itself becomes a painless memory, which we can hold on to forever.

Complete Article HERE!