Search Results

By Larry Dawalt, M. Div., CT, CTSS Having been in the ‘grief business’ for much of my adult life, I am consistently looking for words to help people understand what grief is and also what it is not. While there is no single absolute definition that covers grief in its entirety, I recently found three explanations in a blog by Russell Friedman that are certainly important contributions to the discussion. His first and most basic definition states that ‘Grief is the normal and natural emotional reaction to loss or change of any kind. Of itself, grief is neither a pathological condition nor a personality disorder.’ While that definition works in a classroom setting, it doesn’t exactly explain seemingly endless tears, sleepless nights, and the morning startle of awakening to find him/her still gone. The second definition is more personal and a little closer to reality, writing that ‘Grief is the conflicting feelings caused by the end of or change in a familiar pattern of behavior.’ I can apply that one a little easier than the first one, but it’s still not as good as his last one. “There’s another definition of grief that’s so descriptive that we include it in all of our books, and usually quote it in every public speech we make. It’s a piece of language that we didn’t create, but if we knew who first said it, we’d give them credit. ‘Grief is the feeling of reaching out for someone who’s always been there, only to discover when I need her (or him) one more time, they are no longer there.’ As poignant as that statement is in giving words to feelings, it can be reversed and used for a different, painful situation; as when a long-term relationship has never been good, in which case it can be stated as: ‘Grief is the feeling of reaching out for someone who has never been there for me, only to discover when I need them one more time, they still aren’t there for me.” I get cold chills reading that definition as I see the faces, hear the voices and feel the feelings of dozens and dozens of dear souls I have worked with over the years. Grief is tough and while I can’t describe it completely, I have come up with a few ‘Larryism’s’ that I consistently share in my grief talks. “When grief is new, words should be few.” “Grief is as individual as the relationship that brought it about.” “Grief is initially about the last chapter, but to really celebrate a life you have to look at the whole book.” Lately, I’ve been thinking about grief as the path to re-connectedness; learning to trust again, and take one more chance that there may be someone out there you want to let into your life as a lover, friend, mentor, confidant, or just someone who makes you want to get out of your pajamas or jogging suit and live and laugh and care again. Whatever definition you use, please know that there are people out there- neighbors, friends, people at a community of faith, counselors and others- who are willing to walk beside you; not as guides, but as companions on your journey of mourning the loss of someone you love. You are on a unique path, but you are not alone. Larry Dawalt is Senior Director of Spiritual & Grief Care Services for VIA Health Partners. He joined the organization in 1997 and has served as Camp Director of Chameleon’s Journey since 2000.

By Larry Dawalt, M.Div. The first lesson is go slowly and learn to hurt in increments. How does one deal with the death of an adult child; or any child? For two precious people I have worked with over the past year, the loss of a child is a reality that they deal with every moment of every day. One lost an adult child and the other an adolescent. They aren’t related. They don’t even know each other. But in their own way they have each confirmed some lessons about what they are experiencing and what they need in the way of help and hope. The first lesson is go slowly and learn to hurt in increments. There is no way to fully comprehend the loss in its totality all at once, so there’s no way to grieve it all at once. Take little bites and don’t be afraid to not ‘go there’ when you aren’t ready. It’s not denial. It’s just waiting; regaining strength and adding small things into your life before confronting the missing pieces. The second lesson is to lower expectations of family support and/or support from friends. It may be good and it may not be good. People may be genuine and kind or they may sensationalize and want to hear the story over and over. It doesn’t take long to find out who is supporting you and who is insensitive, whether they intend to be or not. You will find people you had no idea could be so supportive and they make up for those who disappoint for whatever reason. The third lesson is to let the child keep living even though they are not physically present. What would they do, what would they say, what would they think, or how would they feel are natural questions you would ask anyway; so why not keep asking them, since they are still alive in your heart? They may be gone physically, but they are still present with you in many other ways and always will be. Lastly, find someone who will listen without judgment and let you just talk and talk and talk. Talk about what you are feeling, talk about your anger, talk till you cry- then rest a minute and talk some more. Talk about your loss, talk about your health, talk about lunch, talk about current events- talk about anything. Learning to talk about anything and everything may eventually lead you to what you really need to say. It’s like Julia Cameron’s ‘Morning Pages’ as a way to break out of writer’s block, which she described in her book The Artist’s Way. She said to take a sheet of paper and just start to move your hand. The first sentences may be something like, ‘I don’t know what to write. I don’t even want to write right now. I don’t even know why I am trying to write. But here I am writing. Did I just write five sentences?’ Talking is the same way. You may not know what you really need to be saying about your loss, where you are now, the future, or anything. But if you can just start talking with someone whose sole purpose is to listen, you may eventually say what you need to say or get something out that will help you move forward. I want to conclude by simply thanking these two precious people for the lessons they have taught me - and now you. They didn’t want to become teachers, but their courage and wisdom is a gift. They are truly an inspiration and it is an honor to walk beside them. Larry Dawalt is Senior Director of Spiritual & Grief Care Services for VIA Health Partners. He can be contacted at DawaltL@viahp.org.