5 Things I Learned from Grief, Applied to COVID-19

“The pain I feel now is the happiness I had before. That’s the deal.” – C.S. Lewis, A Grief Observed

As I look back, I find that the initial 30 years of trial, struggle and challenge experienced in my life were distant to this past year’s struggle after my Dad’s death by suicide. But, I believe it’s the past year that has made all the difference.

The tumultuous journey of grief is unmistakeable to those who have walked it: denial, anger, bargaining, depression, and acceptance. They say there are five stages, all blended into a messy concoction that feels a bit more like uncontrollable chaos.

To be certain, I experienced each of these in due process: days of waking up in disbelief of a painful new reality, being angry that holidays still encumbered societal norms and traditions that I didn’t much feel like celebrating anymore, wondering if I could pray my way into seeing my Dad again (“God, if you just let me talk to him once more, I promise I’ll do everything in my power to be as good as I can and…” the list goes on), considering what my life might turn into if I watched every semi-redeeming Netflix show until the world stopped spinning, and hoping for a day when holidays were sacred and the sun was rightfully-shining once again. These thoughts and feelings didn’t arrange themselves nicely in a particular order, nor did they align themselves with what my environment demanded at the time. Life still goes on. Work still must be done. And holidays still must be celebrated because there’s still much — to my dismay at the time — left to celebrate. This journey, no matter how difficult, changes us as we come out the other side.

Grief denies us ignorance. It ignores our need for normalization. It rips us from our comfort zone and sets us in turbulent, erratic, uncharted waters. And, in my experience, it sets us on a path toward a piece of ourselves that we never would have found otherwise: refines us like a fire until we’re left with only one perspective — a knowledge of what really matters. That’s the acceptance phase, I think.

As we’re all acutely aware, COVID-19 has roared through societies with this same grief-giving fire. It’s closed innumerable businesses. It’s toppled the current structure of school systems and changed student learning. According to a recent Washington Post article, it has amassed havoc on nearly 45% of American’s mental health. And that’s just the start.

The magnitude of “loss” being experienced globally is perhaps unprecedented. But, having come through the fire of incredible, unfathomable loss just over a year ago, I believe there’s something more we must consider when peering at these symptoms of pandemic disease.

After my year of “firsts without Dad” was complete (first birthday, first Father’s Day, first day on the lake, first Eagles concert…), I was left with some takeaways that may not rival the great C.S. Lewis, but give me a peace in the midst of this new, turbulent pandemic storm. A compilation of thoughts, quotes and meanderings that perhaps might bring joy-filled conversation to 2020’s troubles, too.

1. Deep loss means great love. We’ve all heard this before, in one form or another, but I can’t stress the truth in it enough. As father-time keeps moving the clock forward, I find that I’m increasingly thankful for the good times and less burdened by his loss. Most certainly, we all have lost something in the previous weeks: much-anticipated events, businesses, jobs, structure and normalcy of daily routines and — perhaps most despairingly and importantly — people in our lives. It’s likely a “new normal” will emerge from all this loss (for some, more painfully than others). While the image of our recovery may look variably different than pre-pandemic times, it may perhaps help us reflect on the beauty of those times. Then, wittingly strive to rebuild what we can with a more grateful perspective and heart. As the old adage reminds us, and studies confirm, “Absence makes the heart grow fonder.”
2. Moments with others matter most. I believe the general American culture (I can’t speak to others, as I haven’t lived in them) has progressively tiptoed toward placing exceeding value on capitalistic, bustling ideology and forgotten the meaning of family dinner, face-to-face conversation, personal relationships and community camaraderie. This is generally speaking, of course, but I believe comes at great expense. After my Dad’s passing, accolades and items became so much less important. It was memories that mattered; moments that can’t be replaced — and will stand the test of time long after houses, lake cabins and businesses are gone.
3. Be kind. To everyone. What was perhaps my most astounding realization through grief was how many others around me needed kindness and support. As I mentioned in a previous blog post, “[The pain] made me wonder how I had lived in such ignorant bliss with so much brokenness surrounding me. How I had let people pass me by without persistently extending a hand and a heart. It’s not that I had never done so… it’s that I hadn’t done so enough.” For many, it is this pain and loss that rekindle the empathy that’s suppressed by busy lives, menial tasks and monotonous daily routines. There’s nothing like the sharp puncture of loss that reminds us that others are hurting, perhaps in our neighborhoods, workplaces and communities, and need an extending-hand of kindness to dull the pain of unnerving circumstances. COVID-19 has left most of the globe living in unnerving circumstances, and nothing will replace the kindness that you can give — and be — right now.
4. “Circumstances do not make the man, they reveal him.” – James Allen. As I previously stated, the last 30 years may have made me, but it’s the last year that’s come to define me. Not by accolades, material items or extravagant events. Rather, the overcoming of difficult circumstances and the new calibration to see things as they are — not as I want them to be. I could not save my Dad (as hard as my family and I tried), could not change the outcome, nor rewrite the circumstances that came to be. But, who we choose to be in spite of those circumstances matters. To us individually, our families, our friends and those surrounding us each day. As one of my all-time favorite U.S Presidents, Theodore Roosevelt, said, “Character, in the long run, is the decisive factor in the life of an individual and of nations.” The choices we make through the devastation of COVID-19 will be the foundation we build for a better tomorrow. And it starts with all of us, individually — choices, internal content and character, as we battle through it.
5. It’s ok not to be ok. It seems our initial response, when asked how we’re doing, is to knee-jerkingly return with some half-concocted version of “I’m great!,” or “Things are going well.” I believe we have been slowly conditioned as a society to think that by acting ok, we escape the tumultuous and unpredictable judgement of another. Or, perhaps the response is to avoid vulnerable connection and deep-rooted relationship, which societal norms have unwittingly de-structured. Perhaps rather than normalizing surface response and connection deterrent, we acknowledge that almost half of the United States (46.4%) will experience a mental illness during their lifetime — and that’s pre-pandemic data. Much of our society hinges on its’ ability to control, conform and conveniently avoid harm-inflicting issues. But what happens in an environment, much like the one COVID-19 has virally crafted, where control, conformity and harm-avoidance seem like a distant memory? How do we avoid the unnecessary mental health casualties of a global pandemic that spans our ability to easily contain? I believe we allow each other not to be ok, and be kind in the midst of it. Difficult circumstances cause us to find ways to adapt and, if all goes well, overcome. During my previous year of incredible grief and difficulty, the most meaningful gift I received was the acceptance of the moments I wasn’t ok. Grief has ways of knocking us off of our feet without notice; let’s be kind to each other’s grief through this time.

Pain. Struggle. Grief. These emotions are felt as a result of unwarranted, uncontrollable and unfathomable circumstances; much like those we are living in now. But, like everything else, these circumstances ebb and flow. The happiness and comfort that was will reemerge, but perhaps in a different form, once again. It’s vital to recognize the pain that is, is a direct result of the happiness that was. The joy, comfort and privilege that existed prior. It’s the vital lessons we learn from it that matter… to reemerge with a reason to celebrate on the other side.