Grief, the human experience uniting us all
I’m finding it hard to watch the news these days and I doubt I’m alone. War seems to have become an Orwellian hellscape, with drones exploding, genocide looming and the far right becoming more vocal as the truth becomes owned by those who shout loudest. It can feel, some days, as if humankind actively seeks methods to divide itself into ever smaller, more righteous, zealous or political categories.
But this week I experienced a glimmer of hope – and it came in the unlikely form of grieving for my younger sister, who died one year ago this week. A hospice local to me, Compton Care, had a sponsored walk in which we raised money to support those who need it while taking advantage of the beautiful nature walk along the canal to contemplate those we’ve loved and lost.
All of life was there. It was sad, happy, thoughtful, friendly and supportive as our crowd of hundreds walked together, remembering spouses, parents and siblings. And it was wonderfully diverse, a beautiful reminder of how humane humanity is and can be. As we strolled, I was just as moved by the experience in the moment as by the memories that arose.
It was a powerful reminder that grief, and death, unites us all.
“When the other person is hurting, confused, troubled, anxious, alienated, terrified; or when he or she is doubtful of self-worth, uncertain as to identity – then understanding is called for. The gentle and sensitive companionship offered by an empathic person… provides illumination and healing. In such situations deep understanding is, I believe, the most precious gift one can give to another.”
In counselling and psychotherapy, how to work with bereavement inevitably forms part of a counsellor’s training landscape. But even as I write that it sounds odd, as if working with grief is a bit like tackling a leaky boiler. The truth is, there is no set way to work with grief when you’re a person-centred counsellor – what there is, is a way of being fully with a person, within their utterly unique experience of their grief as an accepting and empathic presence.
I suspect many of us have fallen for the most common myths around grief (I know I had). It’s just so tempting to think that if we ignore it, it will quickly pass or that even if we can turn our gaze towards it, then it’ll probably be over within a year. Neither of these common beliefs are true.
My sister died just days into my training. Immediately, life made no sense – I had no idea whether I could continue the training, how her tragic and unexpected death would impact me, my family. What kept me going were two things. The first was our last conversation in which my sister called me to tell me how proud she was that I was training to “help people like her”, by which she meant anyone who was struggling with their mental wellbeing.
The second thing that propelled me through was the training itself. An integral part of our training involved counselling fellow classmates – not with imagined scenarios but our real lives. Suddenly, I was in the midst of my grief but also in the midst of around 100 other trainee counsellors with whom, over a period of months, I openly wept, voiced my frustrations and disbelief. The regrets.
Today, I can mostly remember my sister with a smile, but it’s also okay to cry gently too – I am only, wonderfully, human.