In the Early Days of Grief

When my sister-in-law died suddenly and unexpectedly last spring, I woke up in her house overwhelmed and deeply saddened. Did this really happen? Was I really here while she was not? How could it be? Could I/we handle the monumental tasks that lay before us?

My overwhelm turned quickly to an uncomfortable state of anger. Her death didn’t have to happen this way, it could have been prevented… if only. This was abruptly interrupted by guilt for feeling angry at someone who didn’t want to die, didn’t see it coming, and wasn’t prepared. Most of us of us are never prepared for death, our own or anyone else’s. Even when a death is predicted, accompanied by a “terminal” diagnosis, we are never ready to let go, never ready to say good-bye.

The early days of grief challenge us on all fronts: physically, mentally, emotionally and spiritually. When you layer the practical tasks required to deal with all the details of death, this new and foreign landscape seems impossible. How long we can sustain this state? Will there be help along the way? Where do we begin? If this happened what else can happen?

If you’re an extrovert by nature, you may want company, comfort, casseroles, baked goods delivered by neighbors. You want a hug, maybe a collective cry. You want to know that others care and you are not alone. If you’re an introvert, your reflex is to go inward and hope people will give you time to settle into this new reality, find your way. You need time to think, and hope no one shows up to jangle your raw nerves because you can’t tolerate the thought of having to manage another person’s feelings on top of your own. Your skin is thin and everything feels too loud. If you’re in mixed company (introverts and extroverts), you seek compromise and balance. Tensions can mount while reserves are low.

You wake in the middle of the night grieving, wondering where they are now. Your sleep and your appetite become dysregulated, as does your nervous system. You may not be able to regulate our own body temperature and find yourself shivering or shaking.

Survival becomes key. It becomes essential to look to your basic needs. Prioritize your health and your self-care. Attend to nutrition, hydration, sleep, as well as rest, support, and quiet time to think. Give yourself permission to take necessary breaks from ruminating over the events of this death, the “what ifs” and “if only’s”. It feels compelling but offers little gain. Give yourself permission to take breaks from grieving. You cannot grieve 24/7. It’s too much to bear.

It’s a wild ride, and sometimes you will feel worse before you feel better. In the early days grief can throw off your ability to think clearly, to digest information, to remember things. It may feel like you’re losing it. This is grief.

So, listen to your body, be kind to yourself and temper your expectations of yourself and of others, for we all cope differently. There is no one road map or shortcut, only non-linear steps. Don’t judge yourself. Have patience, remind yourself of all the struggles you have surmounted in the past, all the strengths you bring to the table, and trust in your bodies innate ability to heal.

There are many resources available in your community and at your fingertips. There are many measures you can take, tools and techniques that will smooth the way. I will address these in future writings.