Embracing Grief

Hi there. Me again. I was still editing Crystal Companions when I started writing this - but it’s now available for pre-order!

The story I was working on is Agate, and I thought this section might be of use to some of my readers. Debbie is struggling with the loss of her beloved grandmother, as well as being dumped by her boyfriend because he couldn’t cope with her grief. She’s just found a book on the shelves that jumps out at her. (I might get around to writing this book some time! It’s called Be Yourself - Everyone Else is Taken.) This is what she reads on the first page she opens it at:

“Grief is different for everyone,” it says, “but there’s one thread that runs through most people’s struggles with bereavement of any kind. Our loss is not just of a person, a pet or a job, but of what they represent, and what they provided us with that we believe we lack. It feels like we’ve lost a limb, because what they supplied has been cut off.’

That hits me like a ton of bricks. Of course, I loved Nanna for who she was. But I also loved her for how she made me feel. With Nanna, I always felt loved, confident and supported. Like I could do more, be more, give more. Much as I do with Bella [her best friend], and to an extent as I did with Mitsy [their cat] until she stopped coming home.

So then I realise something else. I’ve transferred much of what I expected and received from Nanna and from Mitsy onto Bella’s shoulders. I know she doesn’t mind, but I can’t keep doing that. It’ll exhaust her, and she may get fed up of being my constant support.

“The good news is that you can provide whatever it was for yourself; they were just here to show you the way.”

Wow! Four sentences from the right book, and I’ve gained an insight it could have taken me years to achieve - if I ever did. And does any of that even apply to Damon? He didn’t make me feel confident or competent. In fact, he criticised everything I did. So why am I even mourning his loss?

A huge sigh runs through my whole body and I feel like a weight has lifted.

Do I feel like half a person because I don’t have a boyfriend? But Bella doesn’t have one either, and she seems fine on her own. Could I ever feel that way?

Or is it just that the rejection hurts, and hurts badly? If so, why is that, when Damon wasn’t even The One.

I just read a book by a friend of mind, Emma Simpson, called Breaking Waves, in which she talks about her ongoing grief over the early death of her beloved brother. Everyone finds ways to cope with bereavement, and Emma’s is to go wild swimming with groups of supportive women. It help her, and many others, but the grief is still there.

In my Agate story, Debbie finds a way to let go of her grandmother, and even enjoy the presence of her memories, and her crystal companion of choice is Agate. This stone tends to work slowly, but its effects are long-lasting. It’s a crystal that helps heal emotional wounds, heartache, and other difficult emotions.

One of the themes running through my book is that everything happens FOR you, not TO you. In other words, there’s a reason your soul chose for these things to happen in your life - and it’s always an invitation to learn, grow, mature, become more yourself.

Debbie isn’t the only character in my book to wrestle with grief - it’s another theme that comes up several times. Another piece of advice from the book is that running away or stuffing down or denying your emotions isn’t the answer. I’ve talked here before about how leaning into it gives your mind the understanding that you can cope with it, that it isn’t life-threatening (even though it may feel it), and it isn’t unsafe to feel those emotions. Grief is no different in that respect. What you develop through dealing with grief could be resilience, compassion, increased empathy, or the ability to support others through loss - or something else. But there will always be a gift on the other side of the pain.

I had a client come to me a few years ago because her entire family was stuck emotionally in the moment they learned her darling brother, the life and soul of the family, had died in a car crash while on holiday. She felt that one of them needed to find a way to come to terms with their loss, and that would give permission for the others to move on, too. I never heard from her again, so I don’t know how it went, but the advice I’ve attributed to my made-up book in the Agate story was exactly what she needed to hear. Her eyes widened, she let out a whoosh of breath and sat back in her chair.

‘Of course!’ she said. ‘He’d been the clown, the counsellor, the one who always knew how to help us through difficult times. That’s what we’ve been missing. And now I know that, I think we can do that for each other.’

And I hope they did.

Spoiler alert! Don’t read on if you don’t want to know how one of my characters resolves her grief!

This is effectively what happens to Fiona in another of the Crystal Companions stories. The breakthrough comes for her when her housemate gifts her a rhodochrosite stone, but it isn’t until he remarks that her mother has lost two daughters, but one is only temporary, that she realises she needs to go and talk it through with her mum to help them both heal.

I have to make a confession here - I’ve managed to reach the ripe age of 58 without being seriously bereaved. And of course it’ll hurt. But my family hold their loved ones lightly, and we tend to be able to let them go. I’m not looking forward to losing a loved one, but I think I’ll cope better than many poor souls.

At least I know the theory. I hope I can put it into practice when I need it.