There is No Measure for Grief

I am filled with shame at my casual comments on a person’s recent miscarriage because she was only eight weeks pregnant, because she has four other children. How arrogant of me.  Her grief was real and minimizing it was thoughtless, even if my comments were said to others I was not listening to her profound sadness. I was judging her bereavement.

Recently while having a discussion on grief with a group of longtime friends I heard myself agreeing with levels of grief that losing a spouse or child is the highest form of grief. I have not experienced those losses, but how  can I agree to such a broad statement? No one can know what trauma a death can bring to someone else. I think it impossible to make analytical calculations on grief.  One could argue on a child’s age at time of death, three months or thirty years, whose grief is greater? The cause of death could be a factor, which is worse a wife’s death from a violent murder, or a long painful cancer? If a death is caused by suicide is it less, because our uninformed logic believes they chose to kill themselves. I don’t think anyone chooses to be mentally ill.  It is the illness that makes that decision. 

Not everyone in this life is blessed with children or a partner. Their grief is no less real, no less painful when they lose someone close, as one friend said later “I feel as if my grief is not worthy.” 

 My brother who cared for my parents was inconsolable after our mother’s death.  His best friend, supporter and purpose was gone. I grieved, but his grief encompassed a large part of his life. There was a dark hole that he filled with despair.

 Pets are dismissed as replaceable, but to those who have embraced their unconditional love, acceptance and dependability know the depths of sorrow as they mourn their constant companion.

If we live for very many years we all will say good bye to much more than we thought our hearts could bear. It is in the arms of our friends, family, and for some their pets that brings  solace, kindness and the strength to get up, breathe,  forever missing them but remembering with gratitude the time we were given with those we love.