When grief takes over

I first encountered Mrs B as I was cycling along the lane near my house – the one with the muddy track and the No Cycling sign. As we drew closer, I dismounted out of politeness, and was about to smile and walk past when Mrs B  started talking. “I don’t go out walking on my own much, you know. Not since I lost Freddie.”

A time for mourning: Death, redundancy,

a change in circumstances are all forms of loss.

Any kind of loss is naturally followed by a

period of grieving. *See image link below

 

“Oh, I am sorry,” I replied, sympathetically. “Has he been gone long?” I was treading that fine line between showing sympathy and trying not to put my foot in it. Freddie, I assumed was the late Mr B. “Since April,” she replied (it was now late September), “and I just can’t get over it. My daughter keeps telling me to pull myself together but I keep wanting to cry.” Right on cue, Mrs B started crying.

I laid the bike down and put my arm round her. “People don’t understand that grieving is a slow process,” I reassured her. “It affects different people in different ways. You mustn’t feel bad about crying.”

“It’s all very well for her,” by now Mrs B was beginning to wail. “She wasn’t there when he had to be put down!” For a nano-second, I had a vision of a man in his late 60s being given a lethal injection while Mrs B held his hand. Fortunately, that was soon replaced with the realisation that Freddie was Mrs B’s much-missed dog.

Heaven knows what possessed me, but I explained that I had just qualified as a life coach and, if it was okay with her, I would like to offer 10 free life coaching sessions. I would just listen and she could rant and rave, bawl her eyes out, say what she liked about anyone, it would go no further.

I met Mrs B’s daughter later that day in order to reassure her that I wasn’t planning to con Mrs B out of all her money. However, gradually, as I got to know Mrs B better, I understood why her daughter was so protective towards her – but that’s a story for another day.

In the meantime, arrangements were made for me to come round every Wednesday, just for a couple of hours. Mrs B would talk and I would practise my life-coaching skills.

I’m not sure who got the most out of these sessions, me or Mrs B, but it turned out to be a great meeting of minds. We talked about lots of things but grief was the emotion I wanted her to focus on. Because Mrs B felt she couldn’t talk about Freddie, or cry about his passing in front of her loved ones, she was in danger of getting stuck in the grief process.  

Complicated grief, as it is known, is usually a symptom of unfinished business – maybe there were harsh words spoken before the deceased passed away, maybe those left behind were unable to say goodbye properly, or perhaps there was a harsh or violent death. When that happens, it becomes impossible to speak of the deceased without experiencing intense and fresh grief all over again. This is exhausting for the person caught up in the grieving and for those close to them.

The other question is: “How long is long enough?” Well, normal grief follows a pattern – and we’re not just talking about the death of a loved one, but about all kinds of loss. This includes the end of a relationship; redundancy; a major change in lifestyle, such as marriage, illness, or the birth of a child – any event  where there is grief for what’s gone before and the realisation that those days are gone forever. However, anyone who still cannot resume normal life seven or eight months after the death, may be suffering from unresolved grief.

A very quick outline of the normal stages of grief may help here:

• Acceptance of loss – shock and denial are the mind’s healthy defence against being overwhelmed by what has happened. After a couple of days, reality sets in – but  emotions are a different thing altogether. The person grieving may still see and talk to the person for many months or years after they have gone. Anyone who saw The Iron Lady with Meryl Streep as Lady Thatcher  will understand what I’m saying.
• The emotions of grief – this is the stage of acute grief which can show itself through emotions such as despair, guilt, fear, shame, loneliness and anger. Grief can also show itself in physical ways such as weight gain, aches and pains, inability to concentrate, outburst of crying, pacing, wandering and searching.
• Acquisition of new skills – the person left behind accepts the loss of the loved one; physical and emotional symptoms subside and a new phase begins. This is the point to get out and about, make contact with other people, learn new skills and accomplish practical tasks.
• Re-invest emotional energy – it’s time to say the final farewell, while still keeping a place in your heart for your loved one. Say goodbye to the lost loved one in order to say hello to the future.

Now, as I said before, Mrs B was in danger of becoming stuck at stage 2. So my first step was to get her to acknowledge what she had lost: a companion, a confidante, a reason for getting out of the house, a friend who gave her unconditional love.
My presence gave her the permission she felt she needed to reminisce about Freddie, his kindness and intelligence, about how he went bonkers on Christmas day, and how he lay down by her study door after their walks, while she wrote and he snored. Most heart-wrenching of all was Mrs B’s story about giving Freddie his final meal and waiting for the vet to arrive on their last morning together.

All this stuff is very healing, but what I really wanted Mrs B to do was to sob her heart out. I encouraged her to get out the photo album, look at pictures of Freddie, remember the good times and let the tears flow. Intense crying is physically exhausting, but the reward is huge relief and a greater chance of finally letting go.

We reached our “Hallelujah!” moment  when Mrs B sobbed out loud: “He was such a big dog and he took so long to die. People don’t realise how long it takes. I felt so guilty.” That was why she couldn’t stop grieving, she couldn’t get rid of the guilt.

I suggested she wrote a letter to Freddie saying how sad she was that he’d gone; how sorry she felt about the way he died and how much she loved and missed him. I also suggested that she thanked him for the good times, assured him he would always be in her heart, but now it was time to say that final farewell and let go.

Mrs B is a good friend of mine now.  We meet every three weeks of so for a cup of tea, usually somewhere posh. She entertains me with tales of Freddie, usually laughing at tales of his antics. But she doesn’t start crying every time she talks about him these days.  I’ve asked her if she would ever consider having another dog.

“I’m not ready yet,” she says. “ But maybe one day....”

*Image: Marcus74id / FreeDigitalPhotos.net