It had been a decade of on-again, off-again therapy sessions. This day, it had been a consistent “on again” for the ten months of 2023. As I sat on the not-so-typical therapist couch, waiting for my session to begin, the cool, crisp autumn breeze crept into the room. It was a subtle breeze that reminded us of the exit of summer and the ushering in of seasonal Autumn. The breeze washed over my face like a warm blanket as it played with the loose curls of my hair, giving it the same buoyant waves of the sea. I felt it gently inviting me to prepare my mind and spirit for the discussion that was to come.
Before the session began, I began to reflect upon what I wanted to focus on during my time with my therapist on this day. Over the past several months, the topic of death and loss was a recurring item on the agenda and had become a default topic. Here I was, poised yet again, to share that since our last session, I had attended another funeral, and I had another upcoming goodbye before my next scheduled appointment. In fact, in the previous ten months, this would be my sixth funeral service, my sixth dance with grief, and my sixth time to say yet another goodbye.
As I shared this with my therapist, it not only felt like déjà vu but also like I was pulling down the movie screen in my mind. I was pulling up a chair and eating that infamous buttered movie theater popcorn while watching this scene replay. It felt like grief and loss had a hold of me and refused to let me go. I allowed this thought to be contemplated. My initial reluctance with the dance of grief had dissipated over time with all the bereavement work that I had done. The usual musical sound of my therapist’s voice as she applied the tool of voice tracking seemed to change. My brain interpreted that as she said, “You have experienced excessive loss. In all my years of practice, I have never encountered a client who has had so many people on the landscape of their life die and had to say so many goodbyes, both big and small.”
That was jarring to me. This caused me to pause momentarily and process what was just shared and what if there were any implications, that statement held for me. Tears began to well up in the corners of my eyes. In my head, I grudgingly nodded in the affirmative. At that moment, a verbal acknowledgment was too overwhelming.
By this time, I had been with my therapist through my toughest goodbyes, those of my father and mother. I have been on this grief journey for quite some time, but it was not crystallized in my mind that all this pain must be for a greater purpose. I went home and pondered this idea. “What could be the purpose of all of this pain?”
During this season, I noticed that the people in my life were turning to me not only for comfort but also for advice, words, and jewels of wisdom. This was not only for themselves but also so they could, in turn, soothe the hearts of others they cared about and left to mourn their shared loss. It is now to the point that I am receiving unsolicited referrals. It was then that it dawned on me that grief is one of those “taboo” topics that society never teaches us how to manage. Most people find it difficult to talk about that they shy away from it, and instead of having the conversation, they default to avoidance. This style of grief management is often portrayed as not wanting to “upset” those who experience loss. Grievers do not know how to grieve; it is a foreign entity.
As someone on the receiving end of this mindset and experience, I felt that my ownness was now on me. I had to shine a light in this tunnel and illuminate the need to be courageous and show up. Show up for oneself when going through loss and show up for others as they traverse their bereavement journey. I became convicted to “be the person who I needed” during the deepest point of pain and grief and to help others as they try to muddle through their own. “Too much is given; much is required.” I have always espoused this mantra. It is at the heart of who I am and what I do. It informs my decisions and behavior and is a staunch element of my beliefs and values. I have adopted a quote from Ram Dass that encapsulates this idea, “We’re all just walking each other home.” This grief journey is not one that one must walk alone. We can be the needed guide and companion to walk alongside the bereaved and provide care and support.
This business is a “love letter” to all who have loved and lost. "For where there is deep pain, there was great love."
Although we are sad to say a physical goodbye, our loved ones who have died are never truly gone. Everything that they were, everything that they shared and gave to us, always remains. In the book Transcending Loss, author Ashley Davis Bush writes, “Death does not end a relationship. It merely changes it.” I believe that wholeheartedly.
If you are reading this, you must be on your journey of grief management. I hope the blog articles provide comfort, a degree of healing, and the permission to feel and grieve however you need, free of the expectations of others and even yourself. I hope you use these pages as a guide to remind yourself to be kind, gentle, and compassionate with yourself as you figure out a “new way of being” without your loved one physically by your side.
Your loved one is rooting for you, as am I. Godspeed and all the love I and the Universe are enveloping you today and all the days to come.
— Donna, Founder, Unboxed Grief
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