Is It Okay For Me To Grieve Right Now?
When I was a teenager, my family experienced a tragic loss. We were at our family land, in the process of building a log cabin. My stepfather, brother and I were putting the rafter headboard in place and things were getting a little bit risky because my truck was parked right next to us. One slip and a log could have fallen onto the truck to cause some significant damage. (Or a log could have fallen onto my mom. She was in the back end of the truck, organizing groceries.)
Warren (my stepfather) recommended that the truck to be moved. Since I was hoisted up on a ladder, about 14 feet in the air, he volunteered to move the truck and asked where the keys were.
“They’re on the dash,” I shouted.
Warren hopped off his step stool and hopped into the truck. He turned the key into the ignition, put the gear into reverse, and began to back up.
Not a second went by when a terrifying howl echoed throughout the forest.
Immediately my mom screamed. Warren stopped the truck and cut the engine.
In a flash, I watched my mom chase after the family dog, off into the back wooded area of our property.
Warren jumped out of the truck and ran after her.
My brother and I followed suit.
We chased as my mom ran faster than I had ever seen her run before- to catch up to and swoop Abbey (our family Cocker Spaniel) into her arms.
Abbey bit her and moaned but I couldn’t hear her. I was frozen in fear.
Shortly after, Abbey died. In my mom’s arms.
My sense of hearing returned. The only thing I heard was crying. My mom was crying. My brother was crying. So was my stepfather.
Warren looked at me with a face full of tears and said “I’m so sorry.”
I couldn’t respond.
I got the hell out of dodge.
I left our family property and sprinted down the dirt road. My eyes flooding with tears, runny nose, and sweat running down my face.
For a remote and secluded area, there sure was a lot of traffic on that road that afternoon. People came out of the woodwork, literally, smiling and waving as they passed by.
I couldn’t make eye contact. I was trying to escape.
I found a property still in development, walked up the driveway, and found a temporary hiding spot. I sobbed in overwhelming sadness as I reran the image of our dog dying in my mom’s arms over and over again- in my head.
I also thought of Warren and how pained he looked. I had never seen him look that way. In fact, I had never seen him cry before. I felt so sad for him. I could see how much shame and self blame he was carrying in that moment.
As a teenager, my self esteem wasn’t the highest. I was known for internalizing things and being angry because it was the safest way to process emotions. That day, I quickly made what I felt from Warren into my personal problem. In my moment of isolation, I created a story of making the whole accident my fault, because it was my truck that ran over Abbey.
Shortly after, I gathered myself and began to walk back to our land. This time there were no tears or runny nose. Just sweat.
I met up with my family and they were still huddled; Abbey in mom’s arms and everyone still in tears.
We assessed mom’s bite but she brushed it off and said she would be fine. Mom showed strength and said we would have to bury Abbey on the property.
I quickly found a shovel and asked where to start digging. I needed to do something because it was too much for me emotionally to sit there in sadness.
I don’t remember if it was Warren or my brother who helped me dig Abbey’s grave. Regardless, we dug deep. We were afraid the wolves would dig up Abbey’s body. After we laid Abbey down to the ground, we said our goodbyes and covered her up. When the ground was level again, we placed logs on top of her grave to help protect her body from the wolves.
That experience was a hard lesson for me. At a time when I didn’t know how to process or articulate my emotions, I was also sensitive to the emotions of others. The shock and sadness of the accident was something I couldn’t handle in the company of others. I needed the safety of being isolated so I could create a sacred space.
Timing is pretty unfavorable for people in grief. Is there ever a really good time to grieve? We live very busy lives, and grief can be painful, so it isn’t an item that gets scheduled, celebrated, or honored.
Also, the timing of grief isn’t favorable to our environments. In our homes, we want peace, pleasure, and relaxation. Grief often happens in the home, but most people find it unwelcome and not in alignment with our environment.
There’s also grief at work. A lot of us work more than a typical 40 hour work week. And in American culture, grief shared or expressed at work is arguably more rare than finding a 4 leaf clover.
So if most of our waking time is allotted for work, play, and/or other pleasure seeking experiences, when is it okay to grieve?
Unfortunately, the answer isn’t universal or simple. The timing may be different for everyone, because grief is unique. Some people may grieve as soon as they learn about a loss. Some people may start grieving a year later. Some people may grieve for 2 weeks. Some people may grieve for 2 decades.
Grief is greatly unpredictable. It’s hard to know what to expect. It may have a beginning but it may never have an end. Also, as you become more familiar with it, the process can be cloudy and complicated, making life that much more uncomfortable and painful.
Since grief may never have an end, one might wonder what’s the point of grieving? The answer is growth. We grieve to help us grow. Throughout the painful process, we learn so much about ourselves if we make the time and hold space for our grief.
And when is it okay to grieve?
In my humble opinion, the best time to grieve is any and every time it comes up. I hold a personal belief that grief is a teacher. Kind of like a parent. It’s in your life to help show you a path, something you previously had no idea about.
Grief is going to show up when it wants to. If you allow yourself to feel what’s there, it will be painful, but that will transcend and insight or wisdom will form. If you deny grief, it may disappear for the moment, but it will come back. And when it does, it will be stronger, more intense and painful.
Have you ever felt so much pain and sorrow that you wailed in emotional agony? Did that agony last forever? That’s right. The sensations shift when the feelings are expressed. We feel better after releasing what’s there.
I love the experience of supporting someone who really feels into what’s up for them. Most of the time, tears are expressed and the person feels some pain for a while. But after the feelings transcend, the look in their eyes drastically change. Their eyes look more clear. Light is beaming. I sometimes wonder if their Soul is revealing itself.
Not every environment is going to be that supportive to express such vulnerable and intense emotions. However, it is possible to be present to both your current environment and also your grief. Let’s use work as an example.
Say you’re at work and one of your colleagues asks you how things are. You’ve just lost your mother and you had two weeks off from work. You’re back and trying to keep yourself busy but you’re still sad. Your colleague knows you lost your mother and when they look at you, you know that they know. It’s deeply saddening because you’re recognizing that they care for your well being and want to support you.
But you’re at work. It’s inappropriate to go ‘there’. What can you do?
I recommend taking a mental note of the moment. Almost like a snapshot photograph. Remember any ‘keywords’ or objects that contributed to your feelings. Speak to your colleague with honesty. Let them know you’re still very sad but you’re uncomfortable to talk about it right now. If you are interested in talking more, make a suggestion to go for a walk with them at a break time.
Or if you’re not comfortable talking more to them, thank them kindly for their support and ask in a polite way to catch up with them later. But don’t deny the grief. Write down something to help you remember the experience and revisit the feelings when the time is more appropriate. There’s nothing wrong with ‘circling back’, even when it’s grief.
Grieving can be a gift when we be kind to ourselves, feel love and support, and keep an open heart to what the experience may teach us. Please do everything you can to honor the grief you’re experiencing and allow it to have a voice when you feel it come up. It may hurt for a while but what you learn from it can make your life more fulfilling and meaningful.
Reid Peterson is the Creator of the Grief Refuge app. Grief Refuge is a daily companion to help support people on the grief journey. Download for free on iOS or Android to get daily support.
