a dirt path appears between greenery and under trees

Alongside

By Mike Bonikowsky

Grief is the great leveller, and the great divider. Everyone grieves, sooner or later, but no two people will experience it in the same way. No two bereavements are the same, and neither are any two consolations.

This is only more poignantly the case for people with developmental disabilities. Not only is their grief completely unique, but they are often unable to express it in traditional ways. How are we to support someone through the grieving process when they cannot, or will not, tell us what they are thinking and feeling about their loss? The answer is simple, and difficult.

In Christian theology, there is a concept called “the Holy Spirit”. This is the invisible piece of God that is everywhere all the time, with and within all people. The name given to this in the original ancient Greek is the “Paraclete”, literally, “The one who comes alongside.”

That is also our best, and only role, when supporting a person with a developmental disability to grieve. We must be the one that comes alongside. There is no closer place we can get to. We must be present, be with, perhaps not understanding or comprehending what the person we support is experiencing, but alongside them nonetheless. We must be there, ready to provide whatever we can discover of their unique need in grief.

But that coming alongside must begin before the bereavement. We must already have been there through the happier seasons of the person’s life, if we are to know them well enough to read the language of their grieving, and hope to know in what little ways we may support them. Supporting a person with a developmental disability to grieve is not a matter of coming alongside, but of remaining where we already were. It is a matter of knowing and being known by them, of being trusted. It is not so much a matter of doing anything for the person, but of being something for them: A safe place, a consistent and reliable presence. It is to be a fixed point in a confusing, chaotic world, someone of whom they can say: “When that person is here, I can expect things to be like this.” Only when this relationship is present and well-established in the ordinary times can we come alongside in the darkest, loneliest season on the person’s life, and hope to meet their unspoken needs.

And usually the answer to those needs is what it has always been: To simply be there with them, to prepare a meal for them and do the dishes afterward, to help them wash body and find clean clothes to wear. To open the curtains in the morning, so that when they emerge from the dark cave of their unique grief, for however short a time, they are greeted by a world that has not ended, and a face that they know, and that knows them.

a rocky beach with a small, green sprout popping through the rocks. You can see the gentle waves of the lake in the background of the image.

When Death Feels like a Thief

By Amanda Sebastian-Carrier.

Amanda Sebastian-Carrier is a communications professional who writes about her grief journey as a form of healing.

Thief!

Oh, how loudly I’d yell the words, shaking my fist at its back as it ran from me through the crowded bazaar. You would find me, soaked in tears, panting and crying and trying to explain that something very precious had been taken from me by that, that, THAT THIEF!

In the heart of my grief, at my frailest, all I could see was what was no more. I grieved all that was stolen from me by death; love, security and even my very self. Had I known the value of having every pocket of who I was, picked bare by grief, I would not have fought so hard to hold onto it all. I’d have let that cutpurse have it all without raising an alarm. That egg, it could take the golden globs of joy, the silvery wisps of laughter and the precious stones of delight that once filled my world and sell them all to the highest bidder. How could I have seen the faceless bidder, behind their paddle, was me. Grief, that panderer, was only taking from me what I could not currently carry and would sell it back, piece by piece, as the currency of healing was paid.

If only I’d had a clue that the larceny committed by grief was not the crime I was reporting, I’d have stopped much earlier. Before death, I had no idea that the theft of all you knew and love and the process of reclaiming your sense of security and self were a process that had the ability to change your life forever, but not how you might think. Grief and mourning can lead to healing if you do the work. If you don’t waste time filing reports to the universe about the misappropriation of your loved one. If you immerse yourself in the process of mourning, instead of decrying the looting of your life. If you truly, honestly, and mindfully, say goodbye instead of trying to hold on. If you can do all that, the only thing that grief is able to steal is your pain. You just have to be willing to give it up, let it be taken.

It’s only now, after I have made my peace with the plundering pirates of grief that I can see what I saw as theft, was actually a gift. The thief that is grief was not stealing all that was happy and good in my life, it was stealing my pain. Grief sat on me, taking all the things I didn’t know how to process, and filtered them through different lenses. It sat with me, taking from me each tear that fell, each shaky breath and each battered heartbeat. Grief took all I had, each story, each memory, and each emotion from me until I began to have room to process life again. Grief took, not a life in the way death had, but death; out of the way of life. Death stole life and grief; grief gave it back.

Broken Heart Syndrome

Post by Maureen Pollard, MSW, RSW

Broken Heart Syndrome

You may have heard the expression that someone “died of a broken heart”. If you’re grieving a deep and painful loss, you may feel as if your own heart is breaking. If you’re grieving deeply, you may be at risk of experiencing this syndrome yourself.
Broken Heart Syndrome is a real diagnosis of a temporary heart condition that can be brought on by stressful situations and extreme emotions. You can read more information about it here:

https://www.mayoclinic.org/diseases-conditions/broken-heart-syndrome/symptoms-causes/

When we are grieving, we feel deep emotional pain. That pain is translated in the body. We carry it in tension that contracts our muscles, reducing our mobility and causing pain. We may suffer headaches, breathing difficulties or digestive disturbances related to our emotional experience.

Research on pain tells us that emotional pain lights up the same centres in the brain that are activated by physical pain. When we hurt, our brain doesn’t distinguish between physical causes and emotional causes. Pain is pain, so our systems responds accordingly.
When we are grieving, we are also less likely to be taking care of our health. We may undereat or overeat in our distress. We often struggle to move through daily activities. Sleep disturbances are commonly reported by people who are grieving. All of these difficulties that are common symptoms of grief can also affect our heart health, making us more vulnerable to broken heart syndrome.

The human system is complex. Our brain, nervous system, muscular structure, organs and skeleton work together in miraculous patterns to keep us alive. Grief is a powerful force that can interrupt our usual functioning.

We tend to dismiss grief at times. We sometimes get caught up in the message that we should just get over it. We might minimize our symptoms and try to push our grief down and away from us so we don’t have to deal with it. It’s important to recognize that trying to avoid grief often causes us more difficulty in the long run.

Be aware of the real condition of broken heart syndrome. Be mindful that as painful as your grief is, ignoring it can cause even more difficulties. Be gentle with yourself and take good care of your emotional, spiritual and physical self as you work through your experience of grief. Your heart is tender and vulnerable at this time, and you’re worthy of tender care to prevent the experience of Broken Heart Syndrome.