I have always been a daddy’s girl. My father was my rock, my support, my counselor and my guide. With two very strong clashing personalities in the house—my mom and me—my father was the one who navigated our family out of troubled waters time and again. A medical legend, he started his career with treating blood diseases in children, so it was weird to find that, at the height of his fame and career, he was diagnosed with an end-stage rare and very aggressive cancer that had found its way into his blood.

Despite the poor prognosis, he continued his work as a global advisor for public health and community health projects to national and international governments and non-government agencies. Ironically, he contracted the public menace—dengue—in his weakened post chemotherapy state, and passed away fighting the same diseases he spent a lifetime saving others from.

I had always read that grief has five stages, but you always think that these things are what happen to others. And then, I had to face them myself. Here’s what I learned.

How I Experienced the 5 Stages of Grief

Stage 1 of Grief: Shock

That moment, when the doctor walked out of the ICU to tell me my father had suffered a cardiac arrest, will be etched in my mind forever. Even as they tried to save him in vain, I stood by his inert body in utter disbelief. Three weeks earlier, he had been hale and hearty and his normal self. All kinds of hospital emergencies imaged from movies and TV serials went through my mind. I remembered those scenes where the doctor would tell the loved ones to speak to the patient, and the heart of the patient would miraculously start beating again. I tried cajoling him, pleading with him, shouting at him, even outright threatening him. But the heart monitor did not respond. I thought of scenes where someone would bang on the chest and the heart would start beating again. But no amount of CPR brought him back. In the end, I had to face the fact that he was gone.

It is a moment where different parts of your being seem to operate at different speeds. The past, the present and the future seem to collide in disjointed images, and the overwhelming feeling is that of shock and bewilderment. People around you tell you things, and you are both listening yet not listening at the same time. Perhaps this is the feeling of your soul being ripped apart, as part of you dies with your loved one. And yet, the rest of you is anchored in reality, where there are others to take care of and formalities to get through. And you plunge into a haze of activity as you try to banish your loss to the deepest and darkest recesses of your mind.

I had always read that grief has five stages, but you always think that these things are what happen to others

Stage 2 of Grief: Denial

No one is prepared for death of a loved one, whether it comes suddenly or after a long illness. But time doesn’t give you the luxury of grief immediately. In my case, I was immediately plunged into formalities—getting the hospital paperwork completed, making arrangements for the body to be taken home. These days you have mobile mortuaries that keep the body preserved at home till it is time for last rites.

I remembered my dad telling me stories of when my maternal grandfather had passed away and he had, with much difficulty, arranged for huge blocks of ice, that were salted to keep from melting, so that they could keep the body at home. And it hit me—I was already referring to Dad as a body. The thought seemed to freeze every molecule in me. This could not be happening. This wasn’t true. Dad was not… I could not even bring myself to say the D-word mentally. Someone asked me a question, and I shoved these thoughts away, again into far corners of my mind, in vain hope that if I don’t think of it, it won’t be true. And paradoxically I plunged into the next formality that needed to be completed. The body needed to be dressed properly because if you wait too long, the body goes cold and rigor mortis sets in. In this state, the body goes rigid and inflexible, and it is next to impossible to dress or re-position it. With the clock ticking, all these transactional activities kept me going, till we brought Dad back home, late at night, and there was nothing left to do till morning.

No one is prepared for death of a loved one, whether it comes suddenly or after a long illness

Stage 3 of Grief: Anger

As I lay down in bed, wide awake at 3am, all the thoughts I had been shoving away spilled over. This is the time when you should never be alone, even if the other person is sleeping or doing something else. The sense of loss, of loneliness, of all the things that will never be, hits you with a force that can take your breath away. Indeed, for a while, all I did was sit and count my breaths as time and distance warped in my mind. Snapshots from the past, his voice, his little actions, his idiosyncrasies all tumbled together in a kaleidoscope with what had been an expected future timeline with him, morphing to a timeline without him. And then came the rage, the injustice of it all. My dad, who had spent a lifetime saving others, had been failed by the very people he had taught. He, who treated and cured others, was lost to the very diseases that he had fought. Anger against cancer, against dengue, against the hospital, the doctors, against fate. Rage, disbelief and utter loneliness ripped through me night after night that first week, as sleep remained elusive.

Stage 4 of Grief: Bargaining

Surely it had not been his time yet. His own father had passed away just seven years ago. His own uncles were still alive. Dad easily had another 10 – 15 years in him. He was beyond particular about his health, waging war on salt, sugar and oil at home and at work. He meticulously monitored all his vital signs. When he passed away, apart from his blood report, every other report and organ was normal. He was a prime specimen for his age, even after cancer had decided to strike. In truth, he did not suffer much, as it had been just three weeks when we first discovered something might be wrong, and just one week from final diagnosis to his death.

The sense of loss, of loneliness, of all the things that will never be, hits you with a force that can take your breath away

Stage 5 of Grief: Acceptance

The last stage of grief is acceptance. There are moments where I feel I have accepted his absence. And then something triggers and I find myself back at one of the earlier stages. Sometimes I wonder if I really want to reach acceptance. Would it not be a travesty to not honor his loss? At other times, I tell myself, this is what he would want. To keep his memories alive through practising all that he taught me, and honor his life by living mine to the fullest, just as he did.

Conclusion

I don’t know what the future holds. I just know that I still expect him to walk through the door, with a smile on his face and a project on his mind. And if he saw me crying, he would just sit with me in silent support. In spirit, he will always be with me.

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My friend lost a family member recently and shared with me that harder than dealing with her own grief was managing the well-intentioned, yet unhelpful and often inappropriate responses of others.

Reflecting on our conversation, I felt called to compile a list of helpful and unhelpful responses when confronted with the news that someone we know has experienced a loss.

How NOT to Respond to Someone’s Grief

1. Don’t ask what happened

The grieving person or family has probably already repeated the story of what happened dozens of times. Don’t ask what happened, how it happened, how it could have been avoided and indulge in a hundred other kinds of meaningless deliberations. This only stirs up their painful memories repeatedly and it is neither kind nor sensitive. If they want to share the story with you, they will do so on their own at the right time without your prodding.

2. Don’t say, “If there is anything I can do, don’t hesitate to ask”

This is the most common thing people said to my friend. She said it wasn’t helpful as it put the entire onus of figuring out what to do and who to ask on her, which further added to her sense of anxiety and feeling of being overwhelmed.

3. Don’t ask, “What are you going to do now?”

This question is entirely out of place for someone going through a grieving process. It reminds them of their uncertain future and forces them to confront practical considerations when the real priority is simply to stay present in the heart and allow the train of emotions to move through. Asking questions about what will happen next is actually intrusiveness disguised as care and compassion.

4. Don’t be completely absent / silent

Another inappropriate response is not showing up, not acknowledging when someone has lost a loved one because we feel we don’t know what we can possibly do or say that could be helpful. People do notice that you knew and never called, nor made any effort to connect. The idea that “I wanted to give them space” is no excuse to say or do nothing at all! While it is true that there is possibly nothing you can do to take away their pain entirely, your attentive presence itself can be soothing and quietly reassuring.

How to Respond Thoughtfully to Someone’s Grief

1. Listen and hold the space

Just be around. Be available. Sit with the grieving person and allow them to share whatever they wish to. Often they will have nothing much to say. Still just be there. Let wave after wave of emotion and tears come and go. Sometimes there is nothing but a kind of numbness. Hug or hold their hands as appropriate. Physical touch is incredibly healing. Pure listening without suggestions and advice is incredibly healing. Your undistracted presence is the greatest gift.

2. Share memories of the deceased

It is very meaningful for them to hear how their loved one touched your life in memorable and significant ways. It expands and enriches their narrative of how this life contributed to the larger tapestry of life as a whole. It reduces the sense their loved one died before their time or that everything is meaningless. They begin to realize that more important than the days in our life is the life in our days. Thinking of a person in terms of their qualities also enables us to look beyond the loss of their physical body. Bodies are temporary. Qualities are forever and live on through each of us.

3. Share how you dealt with your grief

If you have ever suffered loss then share your insights on how you dealt with it. Keep it real. Keep it practical. Share with empathy and without expecting that your experience will necessarily be the same as theirs.

Related » How to Deal With the Grief of Losing a Loved One

4. Do what you can

Instead of saying “Let me know if there is anything I can do for you?”, do what you can! Show up. Help out. Arrange food. Take phone calls. Lend your car. Make logistical decisions. Host visiting family or relatives. Allow the grieving person to “just be” as much as possible and take on as many of their responsibilities as you reasonably can. Actions speak louder than words.

I have used the words “lost” and “loss” many times in this article since that is what most people understand. However a more accurate word is “returned”—because they came into our lives from some place and have now returned to their original source. We cannot lose what is ours, we can only return what was borrowed. This subtle yet significant shift in understanding can enable us to do so with more grit and grace.

These are a few reflections from our conversation. Please share your own insights and observations.

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As a widow, I call it ‘moving forward’ because to me it’s not a matter of ‘moving on’. I know it’s semantics, I know the phrases are similar, but to me they represent such different moods. I will never move on from my loss. It will always be with me and it will always form who I am as a woman, as a mother, and as a person. I will forever love my late husband and I will forever grieve his loss. For me, moving forward means I accept all I have been given in this life and I have made the conscious choice to make positive forward steps with the days I have left. These steps for some time had included finding myself as a single woman, a solo mom, and a person of loss. Now these steps may also include a new and interesting twist to my life’s storyline—remarriage.

My new normal

For the most part I have become accustomed to my life post loss. Life never goes back to what it was before but I have learned to live a new normal and take it all in stride. My new normal includes many parts of my old normal, but the backdrop has shifted and the photos are minus one very important person. My new normal also includes my chapter two, and as we create new memories together, my life seems less awkward and out of place and more, well, normal.

Life never goes back to what it was before but I have learned to live a new normal and take it all in stride

For nearly three years post my husband’s passing away, I often saw my life from a strange, far off vantage point. I felt like I was an observer in my own world, watching from above, like I was living parallel lives. I could observe the life that I once had, complete with my best friend of 15 years and my two beautiful children.

At the same time I observed the new life I was actually living as I had begun to embrace being a widowed mother of two, and suddenly stumbled into a new relationship that was neither expected or requested. I can only explain this feeling as if I was floating above my body seeing it all, feeling it all, and yet somehow feeling completely out of place in both worlds. Huge parts of my being would pull me back to my old life while reality kept me in the present. You see, my chapter two does not replace my late husband. My chapter two is a completely different person and we are creating a whole different life, complete with the challenges that go along with my new reality.

The gifts of grief

My new reality comes with a knowledge I never had before. This knowledge keeps me balanced, centred and ever aware that my time on this earth is short and relatively insignificant. This new reality enables me to swing for the fences, follow my dreams and love in a way I cannot even put into words. You see with great loss comes this great perspective—I feel more deeply, I love more completely and I take each day in stride knowing my problems are only as big as I allow them to become. I call this perspective the gifts of grief. These gifts are priceless, yet I do not wish them on one additional person in this world. I wish you all this perspective minus the grief that normally accompanies them.

My chapter two does not replace my late husband; my chapter two is a completely different person and we are creating a whole different life

I wish I had been gifted this perspective before I lost Mitch. I wish I could have given him the love, the patience and the ability to not sweat the small stuff that I am able to gift to Keith, my amazing chapter two. I wish for each person who has not had to endure great loss to cherish these gifts second hand via the lessons from grieving. Life is short, and while you are here you should really dance. Don’t wait until you live in a parallel universe to figure out what really matters most. Embrace today for its many gifts and live endless and lovingly in the moment.

I believe that widows/widowers offer a unique and special perspective to their new relationships. They love deeper, they are more forgiving, and they appreciate life in a deep and profound way. I always say that those who are blessed enough to marry a widow/widower are given a rare and beautiful gift. Here are some tips for those who have decided to become the second chapter of someone’s life.

Tips for those marrying a widow/widower

1. Don’t rush their grieving process
   Grieving takes time and cannot be moved at a faster pace than the grieving person is ready for.
2. Don’t be jealous of the past
   Your partner loves you for you. Comparison is not necessary or helpful. Trust that love makes the heart expand and there is room for new love in their life.
3. Be understanding
   Grief comes at different times and in different ways. Lend an ear, a hug and realise you can’t fix the pain. There is no time limit on grief so don’t expect it to end when you say, “I do.”
4. Be accepting of family, both new and old
   Accept their in-laws and their children with loving arms.
5. Be confident of the future
   Nothing is more appealing than confidence in a spouse. This is your history to create with your new spouse.
6. Don’t judge
   Until you walk another person’s path you can’t fully understand their journey.
7. Love moments
   A widow/widower has a deep and profound appreciation for memories and moments over monetary possessions. Spend quality time.

[A version of this article was first published in the June 2015 issue of Complete Wellbeing.]

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