Grief upon Grief: Walking through the Valley

Note: This article explores grief and sadness, which are related to but not the same as clinical depression. If you are experiencing signs of clinical depression, please seek professional help.

“It’s been one month today.”

I hit Send on my “sister chat.”

It seemed important to acknowledge the one-month anniversary of Dad’s death. That now-familiar feeling of emptiness was hovering around me, as it had over the past several weeks.

The day he died, and for several days after, my eyes were like spigots with tears flowing freely and often without warning. I grieved the unexpected loss and let the emotions pour out. But a month later, that deep grieving was replaced with a duller sense of sadness–of something missing from my life.

After Dad’s funeral, my focus turned to Mom. Living with her for days at a time. Cooking and cleaning for her. Lining up her caregiver. And helping her come to grips with Dad’s passing. Repeating the details of his death several times a day seemed to desensitize me to the reality of what had happened.

However, spending so much time with Mom brought to the surface another painful loss. I reminisced about the mom I used to know. That spunky, hard-working, organized, fashionable, and “with it” mom that has slowly faded away over the past five years. I’m thankful that her sweet demeanor and glimmers of humor still shine through, but I silently grieve the loss of the mother I once knew. I feel her absence.

Layered on top of these losses, for some time our family has watched the slow decline of our 14-year-old little dog, a Havanese named Jolie Belle. Over the past month, we witnessed a rapid decline, as she became deaf, blind, disoriented, and incontinent. She was no longer doing her “happy dance.” After much debate, we made the difficult decision to take her for her last walk…to the “Rainbow Bridge.” We made an appointment with the vet and together the four of us said our goodbyes. Again, more tears.

Grief upon grief. Upon grief.

I’m missing my Dad. I miss the mom I once knew. And I’ll miss my little girl, Jolie Belle, too. The time I spent with each one of them was precious. Their absence leaves holes in my life that no other person or pet can fill.

In the background of these personal losses are the ever-present communal losses we are all experiencing. The pandemic that’s causing illness and death, job loss, stress, and uncertainty like we’ve never known before. Racial tension in the wake of senseless killing of black men and women continues to pulse through our cities and towns.

We’re missing big parties and sporting events, graduations and musicals, school as we once knew it, and seeing smiles instead of masks on people’s faces. Even deeper are the losses some of us have endured–of friends or family that have died from COVID. And we’re all witnessing a continual pattern of loss and injustice for our brothers and sisters of color.

What can we do in the face of so much loss? How can we fill the voids in our lives?

Even though the tears have mostly dried up, at times the sadness envelops me and I feel that dull ache of emptiness. I often remember the mountaintop days of February 2020 and am astounded at how much I took for granted.

Now, even as I walk through this valley, I’m discovering actions that keep the sadness at bay and soothe the emptiness. If you’re finding yourself feeling sad or empty, perhaps these ideas will help you too.

Go through the motions.

The only way to move through the valley is to put one foot in front of the other. Even when we don’t feel like it, it helps to go through the motions of everyday life. Getting up in the morning and starting my routine feels normal, even in a time of great abnormality. Cooking meals, pulling weeds in my flower beds, and picking beans in my Dad’s garden–these acts of “living” bring solace in the face of so much loss and death. Being certain of our next move, in the face of great uncertainty, moves us forward.

Practice self-care and self-grace.

We can find healing when we take care of and give ourselves grace. Rather than beat myself up for not writing my weekly blog post, I’ve allowed myself space and time, for healing. The extra “space” has pushed me to open up my heart to God’s word, spend time in prayer, and listen to calming music. The extra “time” allows me to take a bike ride or binge on a favorite show. I’m taking it easy on myself when I don’t accomplish all the things I feel I “should” do. The world won’t fall apart if I allow this time and space for my mental health.

Find joy.

If we look for it, there is still much joy to be found, even in the valleys of life. Whether it’s watching a doe and her two fawns in my backyard, soaking up the final days with my daughters before they head back to college, talking to a friend on Zoom, or spending an entire day with my new grandson, I am reminded there is much to be thankful for. Despite what we have lost, there remain many blessings to count.

Search for memories.

One activity that has brought both joy and sadness is going through my photos and recalling many memories. Looking back at old photos of Dad and our family over the years brought much laughter. It also allowed me to grieve the loss of one of the biggest influencers in my life. Then, as we prepared to let our little Jolie go, we searched our photos once again. Remembering the joy she provided over the years brought us to both laughter and tears.

Process through writing.

Whether it’s a few words jotted down in a journal or a fully edited blog post, writing helps me sort out my thoughts. I would recommend this activity for anyone dealing with grief or loss. Just writing this post has reinforced for me the ways I can help myself through this tough time. Sharing isn’t necessary, but being vulnerable in this way can bring about more connection with others. (I highly recommend this episode of the TED Radio Hour for more on Processing the Pandemic through writing.)

Let others walk with you.

Whether it’s talking to my sisters and brother about Mom and Dad, finding friends who can relate to the loss of a parent or a loved one with Alzheimer’s, or remembering the antics of our little dog with my husband and kids; sharing the journey of loss and grief with others brings solace and comfort. The prayers sent up by friends and family have also brought inexplicable strength and peace.

We can all find someone who is struggling with this global pandemic. Find your support network; be it family, a small group from church, your neighbors, or your coworkers. Share your concerns, and pray for each other.

2020 has been a year of loss and grief. And yet, we do not walk through this valley alone. Knowing others are there with us and that our Lord will carry us when the burden gets too heavy, is a comfort that keeps us looking, leaning, and moving forward. Eventually, we’ll climb out of this valley and find ourselves on the mountaintop again.