On losing friends and family in ever-increasing numbers as we age, the impact of their deaths on our lives, and how we handle our grief. A Friday Open Thread...
I just added this to the piece: "As my friend Vivian Manning-Schaffel wrote recently in the Los Angeles Times, 'The most important thing to know if you’re grieving for your car is you aren’t missing some random object—your car was a sacred space that served as a vessel for the memories you made in it. Any feelings of grief are perfectly normal, are common and, in due time, will pass.'” Check out her piece: "My 17-year-old Honda, Broomhilda, met a tragic end. Why do we grieve when our cars die?" https://www.latimes.com/lifestyle/story/2024-04-15/why-do-we-grieve-when-our-cars-die#:~:text=The%20most%20important%20thing%20to,in%20due%20time%2C%20will%20pass.
I'm so sorry about the passing of your friend and the loss of your beloved car. Thank you for sharing this beautiful post.
I'm 37 in two weeks, which is, I think, too young to have lost dozens of people, but here we are. My high school years were the beginning of the opioid epidemic, and by the time I was in my early 20's I'd lost so many friends my brother and I couldn't count them on our hands. We have a photo of us and 7 other kids- 9 total, all our friends, and of the 9 there are 3 left. Then, when my daughter was in leukemia treatment a few years ago, another wave. We made so many friends in the cancer space that we later lost, all children. So my daughter, at 12 years old, has lost as many friends as I had at 22.
I lost the person I thought I'd spend my life with to heart disease that developed during his years in active addiction. It was sudden, and his parents never held a service. I don't know where his body is, if he was cremated, if there is a place I could go to find some part of him. For years I would look for signs of him because I felt so unmoored. We were both really into The Breakfast Club when we were younger, in high school we'd smoke and watch it and laugh ourselves lightheaded. After he died I'd hear "Don't You Forget About Me" on the radio all the time and I convinced myself it wasn't just me noticing it each time, but rather him reminding me he was still around. I never got any closure, but as the years pass life has filled in the gaps and I find I spend less time missing him. We were 15 when we met, 27 when he died, and so 10 years on I've learned to live my life as well as I can in part because he doesn't get to live his. When I do miss him, it's not easier or less.
I haven't thought about him in a while with kids going back to school and life happening all around, but today is his birthday and your questions were the first thing I saw this morning. I was flooded with memories of him, of us together. I pulled on my rain boots and a hoodie and went out for a long walk in the drizzle, and then I came home to write this.
I've read Notes on Grief by Chimamanda Ngozi Adichie so many times the cover is falling off. In times of mourning, I try extra-hard to take care of myself. I let myself get carried away by the memories of the person I'm missing, and I do something to honor them. It's so devastating and infuriating that they're gone, and so I'm comforted by trying to keep little pieces of them in the world. Sometimes it's making a donation in their name to a cause I know they'd find meaningful, sometimes it's leaving a copy of their favorite book in my local free library with a note about them, and sometimes it's taking a walk in the rain and then coming home to my couch, a blanket, a mug of warm tea, and a thread full of people all sharing a similar sorrow.
Notes on Grief is such a beautiful book, and one I also read multiple times during these rolling grief seasons. This last paragraph made me teary. Such lovely ideas. My wife's a librarian, and occasionally tends to our tiny free library box on the corner of our hamlet. I'm going to add some books for some people I've lost, with a note. Thank you.
I read "Notes on Grief" after losing my grandparents. Great book. So deeply sorry to hear of your losses. Inspired by the way you continue to live and love in spite of it all. Sending you love.
So sorry for your losses. It sounds like you've found good ways to deal with them, to the extent that we can deal with them. Thanks for the book recommendation.
I am 65 and I have lost so many friends, that when I try to count them I fear I'm leaving someone out. I lost two in August, both very dear friends from early youth, to cancer. They go, as poet Ted Berrigan wrote, from your outside life to your inside life. They become part of you.
How do I deal with grief? It's ongoing and will last until I join them all. I find quiet moments where I talk to them. I talk to my deceased dogs also. It's quite a collection. But the talking seems to help. I have books (they wote) and actual letters which help keep them close to me. I won't forget them. They are stuck in me.
You have no idea how much what you wrote today has helped me. Thank you. I can let myself grieve because that makes sense, they go from outside you to inside you forever. It's better than taking grief as total loss. Stuck in me.
Personally though, I feel that I am visited by various life forms my deceased husband is currently embodying, we used to do that together over our lost ones. His mom once visited us on the dock in Puerto Vallarta. As a crane staring into our galley window. My spirit goes up when I hear the tree frog that has never before been in the fountain, the avocados that have magically appeared on our ancient tree this year after 20 years of being barren. That gorgeous hawk that soared over the house to make a U turn over the canyon way up high. He's just saying hello. I do talk to him then. No crazier than heaven, hell and angels.
When I was in my 30's ( I am now 71) my mother died, my older brother died, my in-laws died, and my best friend died before 40. I came to call them my death years. I learned we never "get over" our losses, it becomes a part of who we are. However the pain, definitely decreases. I learned that we never stop having a relationship with our dead -- the relationship continues. When I was 32 I had a very different relationship with my mom, now that I'm 71. I tell my age-peers often (probably to an annoying degree) be grateful to be old, many people don't get to do that.
I’ve lost my husband to leukemia 8 years ago and had cancer twice. Grief for me is best described as waves. Sometimes I’m standing in a little water with a gentle wave and sometimes it’s. Huge wave that almost knocks me over. And there’s no telling when each might happen or what might trigger it Im 70 and Im grateful to have my life
I’m about to be 57. I feel like more than anything, I’m grieving the ignorance I once had that life wasn’t in many ways structured around losses and grief. A “lucky life” obscures that for as long as possible. A lucky life means living long enough to realize it will be an accumulation of losses from having cherished connections. Coping is, I think, about finding others with whom we can share this aspect of humanity. I told my son when his girlfriend broke up with him that he’s closer to much of humanity because he’s experienced this loss (and to notice all the great movies and songs he can identify with now). I tell myself that death is the thing none of us gets out of and binds us together, too. I love Substack for its community of thoughtful grievers and how it animates this connection we share across anonymous humanity. I love how we meditate together on the incomprehensible passage of Time. Both my parents have passed. Recently, I also lost my beloved dog, Raisin who loved me passionately. I miss her very much. I’m so sorry for your loss of your friend and your beloved little car.
Sari, so sorry for your loss — and Eliza and others, yours too. ❤️ I am 57 and I have lost so many people in the last two years that have been so dear to me. I realize that it’s only the beginning of this age and stage. It’s rough, and it’s a privilege. To honor and witness their passing and hold them close inside- that is the price of love and friendship. (Worth it — but so painful and lonely at times)
The best book on end of life is the five invitations by Frank Ostaseski (I’m a death doula and read a lot about grief/loss/end of life) - this is THE book of our time ❤️✨
And I am with yours too Nim! At hospital the other day, a nurse recommended The In Between by Hadley Vlahos - a young palliative nurse. The book on its way.
In April, I lost my daughter Annie to breast cancer. She was 43 and my touchstone. In the 7 years before that I lost my ex-husband, my mom, my sister and my dad, for whom I was a caregiver for 4 years. At 66, it's been a lot. Especially losing. Annie. As a writer, I write about it as a way to understand this new world I live in. I also facilitate a Writing Through Grief writing workshop and--just yesterday--I found out that an anthology I've been working on titled Everyday Grief is getting published. It contains over 70 voices of grief. I feel saturated by it all and the only way I know to deal with it is to write about it, talk about it and be present for it.
Thank you. It's the worst. I miss her terribly. And thanks for the congrats--I hope it will be a helpful book for those of us in the throes of grief. ♥️
So sorry for both of your losses. I am 56. I lost my Dad and ex-boyfriend in my 30s and then a rapid number of ex-drinking buddies in my early 50s. I had lost touch with all of them by the time they died as I had moved away and got sober. My tribe is small and shrinking. Both my mother and sister are very sick and they are my people. I am not close with my other siblings who all live far away and have no kids or partner. I am trying to embrace and prepare for life on my own with the help of a grief dhoula and art therapist. One of my happiest memories was when I packed up my stuff and moved across the country without knowing anyone so I hope I can embrace that mindset again and just carve my own unique and solo path while I still have the time and energy.
You made your own adventure and you took charge. That is exhausting! I admire your grit. Give yourself some time to rest up. Then you need to plan another adventure or take on a project to put your mind on and you will reset. Half the fun is in the anticipation and planning. I'm in the process of that right now myself. Yes, while you have the time and energy. Sometimes you just have to make yourself push off and ride that wave!
Next month I should be celebrating my 75th birthday with my best friend, another October baby, who’d be turning 74. She died of brain cancer at 57. She was funny, boundlessly curious, a beautiful writer and human. Of the many deaths I’ve mourned, hers is the one that weighs most heavily on my heart. When I hit a roadblock in my writing, she’s the reader I miss. And yet the thought of her steadies my mind and hands as I write. It opens a channel to her in my imagination. Once in a daydream, she made a joke that only she would make (wrote it, put it in a book). Another time I woke from a dream about her and wrote a strong essay that flowed, which hardly ever happens. The dream and the words arrived a few days before the anniversary of her death. Writing is the best way I know to carry the weight of grief.
I lost a friend who died when she was 74. She was ten years older than me, but I have had cancer twice so I assumed she would outlive me. The grief at losing her was compounded by the shock that she died first , unexpectedly of a heart attack. I am a psychotherapist and have sat with many grieving clients. So I knew there was no magic cure for grief, and I would just have to accept the feeling until it subsided over time -- which it did.
Thankyou for this beautiful post. We need more of these conversations. I’m 62. I lost my dad when I was 48, but also at 38 lost him to dementia. I lost my mum when I was 50. I was privileged to be by her side at the end. Holding her hand. My love and appreciation for them continues… I wish they were still with us.
Losing our family cat was also a big sadness for me.
The heart breaks and we put one foot in front of the other. And then one day… we won’t.
I also lost my dad to dementia. I was 45. Mum passed 4 years ago. I'm now 55. I feel lucky to have had her into my 50s but I wish so much my parents were still here. I'm child free and single and at times feel very detached. I believe no-one will be there for me at the end.
I’m 57, and I’ve lost a few close friends. One of the most jarring was a friend who had ovarian cancer at the same time I had it. She was this huge personality, total potty mouth, but had this voice like Etta James - a room-filler - that it was nearly impossible to believe she could vanish (or die from the same illness I had - and that I could live) My mom’s passing last year, at 85, has been a very different kind of grief - one that’s almost changed me on a cellular level. My creative energy, what used to drive me to write, has changed, maybe dimmed. I’ve been realizing that her presence, even unspoken, might have been a big muse for me in the first place. It’s super strange. I hope it’ll come back but right now, It just doesn’t seem to matter or feel important.
If I were to recommend anything, I’d say Joan Didion’s “ The Year of Magical Thinking” - not because it solves grief, but because she doesn’t try to. Also Chimamanda Ngozi’s “Notes on Grief” and Anderson Cooper’s podcast “All There Is”
Like you said in your post, aging is a privilege. I am in my seventies and have lost several friends. Dying is part of living and we need to recognize it as such. Loosing my childhood girlfriend in a car accident was devastating.
What timing! I am sorry about your friend and I feel grief now too.
First, in May, on the morning I woke up in a remote campsite with my husband cold, stiff and gone. I always thought it would be me first. I sat with him for two hours before the sun came up. I stroked his hair. I couldn't turn him on his back, I couldn't move him. There was obviously no reason to call the EMT's.
There was no cell service. I had to take the dogs out. I found a fellow dog walker and I asked for help. I said I didn't know what to do. My husband has died. He drove me into a spot where cell service worked and we called the proper people and it all got handled. My husband's body was on it's way to Bishop, I was on my way back home with two strangely quiet dogs. I drove for 8 hours. I ate an apple. I drank some coffee. What in the universe just happened?
That was a really long drive. My husband was so private. Even I didn't know his medical details. What had happened? Old age, bad habits and just a worn out body. Now he soars in the Sierras.
How does this work? I sold the RV immediately. I could barely manage to clear it out. My daughter, also in high distress, helped me. I wanted this one trip wonder to disappear from my life.
For the first two months I was manic. I decided to work on the house. I painted and patched the bedroom ceiling. We'd moved the light over two feet so we could put in a fan. It never got finished. It had been 4 years. How many times had we made love with me looking at that ugly ceiling?
Then I painted the bedroom, another bedroom and the hallway. I needed to keep this grief away. I decided to buy new carpet, it was time, I used the old carpet as a drop cloth. Then I painted the baseboards, the doors and the window frames. I had the living room floor refinished. My husband had had it on his to do list.
When that was done, the carpet was installed. In the process I had to empty all of the closets. Salvation Army did well. I had to remove all of the living room furniture. So a revamp. Our 30 year old Karastan rug is irredeemable. I can't part with it yet. It's huge and it's rolled up in the garage.
I honestly don't know where I got the energy. It was powerful, I was working very fast. After 53 years together I had to figure out how to eat alone. Sleep alone. Fix everything. Take charge of the house and grounds. The dogs. They were in shock too. Buster had regressed to lifting his leg on everything. He is still banned from the carpeted part of the house. This is the first morning I haven't had to clean up pee on the freshly refinished floor. There is hope.
I have a small garden harvest coming up. I have to keep moving. I haven't been eating much, I'm not that hungry. I have lost over 20 pounds and still can't figure out what I want to eat. Nothing tastes good really. Embarrassed myself when I was eating out with friends. First plate meal I'd had in months. I inhaled it. My friend's husband actually told me to slow down!
Now I know I have to actually process feelings. I am one of those people who takes forever to let feelings out. I have a big wall. So I tend to be overdramatic when it finally crashes.
My first death was my beloved great Uncle Rudy. I was 9 or 10. I was curled up in the back of his two tone green Oldsmobile that was 20 years old and it felt like Uncle Rudy. I was out there for a long time before my Mother, who was comforting her Aunt, came out to look for me. On that long driveway in Hollywood. That was honest, pure grief unaffected by anyone else, something I could not even begin to understand but it was such a strong feeling of loss. I am really afraid of that right now.
Oh, my god, you lived my biggest fear. I worry each night when I got to sleep that I'll awaken to find Brian kaput. I'm so sorry you experienced that. What a profound loss. Thank you for sharing this. <3
I hope I didn't give you nightmares. The thing I miss the most is cuddling up against his back, spooning. I swear we had come to fit so well. It was how we always went to sleep. That is weird to lose, it's the little things that are the most sad things to lose I guess. So cuddle up Sari and enjoy that you have each other and don't worry cause that doesn't change a thing. It's waste of your energy.
My goodness Meridee what a shocking and unimaginable experience you had to endure.
I wish there were magic words to make things easier but there just aren't. I always fall back on this quote by CS Lewis, "If you love deeply, you're going to get hurt badly. But it's still worth it."
What you said here, "Now I know I have to actually process feelings. I am one of those people who takes forever to let feelings out" resonated with me strongly. I stayed monumentally busy after my son passed for 10+ years. It is scary to face the feelings. I just wanted to let you know, whenever you do let the feelings out, you will be OK... they will not overtake you. But if you can, let someone be there with you and for you. I was obnoxiously independent and did all my grieving alone and that wasn't the best choice to say the least.
I do appreciate your comments here and it's been almost 5 months now I haven't really let the wall down yet I'm trying to do it brick by brick. Finding the best way to heal is to be with my friends. Hugs, laughter. I won't ever be a merry widow but I refuse to pull into my shell and dry up. I am so fortunate we worked really hard to have a pleasant retirement. I never expected to be on my own though. I have learned that death is something that comes along and snatches people, slow or quick. I don't know who it's up to but I know it's foolish to sit and wait for it. I only broke down once last night at the pub. See, one brick. Everyone knew us as a pair. My husband was the gentle giant. They too are learning to see me as one person. I think talking to my friends is going to be a brick by brick experience over a long time. I don't know how you managed to be so independent. I started out that way. I was so freaked out like I said I was manic and full of fury at my fate I guess. I cursed my husband for every thing he ever did and there were some doozy's we won't talk about. I guess that was the anger stage. Talked to a lady in line at the checkout today. She said she had 10 years with her husband watching him die of cancer. She asked me about what stage I was in. I don't know how the subject even came up? We were talking about camping I guess. She said I'm at acceptance. Maybe I am. People asking me how I was doing last night...I said physically just fine, but my heart is going to take years. So maybe that's it. It's still pretty fresh though.
I keep finding physical projects to keep me outdoors so I'm doing a little landscaping now that the garden is finished. Planning and instigating keep me going. I'm not going to play gardener anymore like I used to. I have also had to accept that my shoulders and back are telling me I'm over doing it. Kind of like learning a whole new life. I am trying so far to stay focused on what's next. That is how we always lived, one project after another. A boat to remodel, a house to remodel, a house to rent out to go on the boat, packing every thing away. Over and Over again. I've moved everything I own 28 times from storage to home and back again. I am finally done moving and I'm settling in. On my own. I don't call myself a widow, I am a loner, which is funny when you say it to a stranger cause sometimes it comes off as loaner. ha ha
Thank you Meridee for sharing your story. I’m so sorry you didn’t get to enjoy your retirement with your hubby the way you planned 😞
You are very wise to handle the wall of grief and pain brick by brick. Lean on those friends for sure. And yes, while your head may have accepted the loss, your heart is going to take years.
I almost ended with a silver lining (something akin to the fact that good things can come out of painful things)… but I won’t. Because after only 5 months it’s probably too soon. Right now, it’s just shit.
Thank you for the positive reinforcement Jennifer. It is a totally unexpected place to be in for me.
I am going to turn his workshop garage into my art studio, it's something I've always wanted. Time to do art. There was never time. My art was landscaping and painting houses, rearranging furniture and decorating.
I also helped get several boats ready for open water. I learned to be really good at provisioning for a three week run at sea with no stores. I got to learn to live without electricity, and an endless water supply. That incredible freedom I have missed the most. I also accept the fact that we were actually getting to old to do it. At 72 the body wants comfort. Not rough seas.
A sculpture class, a writer's workshop, that's all I got in. Now is different from before. I am not focused on someone else's happiness, I can focus on my own. I am starting to realize how co dependent you can get after 53 years together. I have never thought that was a bad thing in a long relationship. The worst part is not having someone else who has your back like that. I am up for watching out for myself, just miss the luxury of not having to. It was so hard accepting that it is gone along with the person who I loved, who irritated me, who disappointed me, who surprised me and gave me so much more than love, and love.
I don't know how people who don't have friends get through this. I realize people do die, and we were so fortunate to have this group of friends, cultivated through 15 years of weekly music get togethers. My musician friends, their wives, I love them dearly.
An art studio sounds wonderful. And I’ll take comfort over rough seas any day too (though it does sound like you experienced many adventures and learned a lot in the process 🤩).
Lean on those wonderful friends. Such a treasure ❤️
Thank you Jennifer. We believed in living to the max while we were living right? It was pretty tight financially but it happened and I am so grateful. I remember being in my 50’s on one trip and meeting a couple on a brand new boat who were in their 70’s with no idea what they were doing. Had to respect that will to do it, like a lifelong dream. But at one port we sadly looked on while they held each other on the dock. She died on the spot. On a dock used by fishermen in Mexico. We had helped them reanchor their boat just a week before at one of the islands. Lessons in reality. Live while you are living. My husband loved the saying, “everything will kill you, pick something fun”
I just added this to the piece: "As my friend Vivian Manning-Schaffel wrote recently in the Los Angeles Times, 'The most important thing to know if you’re grieving for your car is you aren’t missing some random object—your car was a sacred space that served as a vessel for the memories you made in it. Any feelings of grief are perfectly normal, are common and, in due time, will pass.'” Check out her piece: "My 17-year-old Honda, Broomhilda, met a tragic end. Why do we grieve when our cars die?" https://www.latimes.com/lifestyle/story/2024-04-15/why-do-we-grieve-when-our-cars-die#:~:text=The%20most%20important%20thing%20to,in%20due%20time%2C%20will%20pass.
I'm holding your hand and passing you tissues. There's nothing worse than losing a beloved friend. What a week. xx
<3
I'm so sorry about the passing of your friend and the loss of your beloved car. Thank you for sharing this beautiful post.
I'm 37 in two weeks, which is, I think, too young to have lost dozens of people, but here we are. My high school years were the beginning of the opioid epidemic, and by the time I was in my early 20's I'd lost so many friends my brother and I couldn't count them on our hands. We have a photo of us and 7 other kids- 9 total, all our friends, and of the 9 there are 3 left. Then, when my daughter was in leukemia treatment a few years ago, another wave. We made so many friends in the cancer space that we later lost, all children. So my daughter, at 12 years old, has lost as many friends as I had at 22.
I lost the person I thought I'd spend my life with to heart disease that developed during his years in active addiction. It was sudden, and his parents never held a service. I don't know where his body is, if he was cremated, if there is a place I could go to find some part of him. For years I would look for signs of him because I felt so unmoored. We were both really into The Breakfast Club when we were younger, in high school we'd smoke and watch it and laugh ourselves lightheaded. After he died I'd hear "Don't You Forget About Me" on the radio all the time and I convinced myself it wasn't just me noticing it each time, but rather him reminding me he was still around. I never got any closure, but as the years pass life has filled in the gaps and I find I spend less time missing him. We were 15 when we met, 27 when he died, and so 10 years on I've learned to live my life as well as I can in part because he doesn't get to live his. When I do miss him, it's not easier or less.
I haven't thought about him in a while with kids going back to school and life happening all around, but today is his birthday and your questions were the first thing I saw this morning. I was flooded with memories of him, of us together. I pulled on my rain boots and a hoodie and went out for a long walk in the drizzle, and then I came home to write this.
I've read Notes on Grief by Chimamanda Ngozi Adichie so many times the cover is falling off. In times of mourning, I try extra-hard to take care of myself. I let myself get carried away by the memories of the person I'm missing, and I do something to honor them. It's so devastating and infuriating that they're gone, and so I'm comforted by trying to keep little pieces of them in the world. Sometimes it's making a donation in their name to a cause I know they'd find meaningful, sometimes it's leaving a copy of their favorite book in my local free library with a note about them, and sometimes it's taking a walk in the rain and then coming home to my couch, a blanket, a mug of warm tea, and a thread full of people all sharing a similar sorrow.
Notes on Grief is such a beautiful book, and one I also read multiple times during these rolling grief seasons. This last paragraph made me teary. Such lovely ideas. My wife's a librarian, and occasionally tends to our tiny free library box on the corner of our hamlet. I'm going to add some books for some people I've lost, with a note. Thank you.
Thank you, Elizabeth. I'm so sorry for your profound loss. I will check out Notes on Grief. <3
I read "Notes on Grief" after losing my grandparents. Great book. So deeply sorry to hear of your losses. Inspired by the way you continue to live and love in spite of it all. Sending you love.
So sorry for your losses. It sounds like you've found good ways to deal with them, to the extent that we can deal with them. Thanks for the book recommendation.
I am 65 and I have lost so many friends, that when I try to count them I fear I'm leaving someone out. I lost two in August, both very dear friends from early youth, to cancer. They go, as poet Ted Berrigan wrote, from your outside life to your inside life. They become part of you.
How do I deal with grief? It's ongoing and will last until I join them all. I find quiet moments where I talk to them. I talk to my deceased dogs also. It's quite a collection. But the talking seems to help. I have books (they wote) and actual letters which help keep them close to me. I won't forget them. They are stuck in me.
You have no idea how much what you wrote today has helped me. Thank you. I can let myself grieve because that makes sense, they go from outside you to inside you forever. It's better than taking grief as total loss. Stuck in me.
Personally though, I feel that I am visited by various life forms my deceased husband is currently embodying, we used to do that together over our lost ones. His mom once visited us on the dock in Puerto Vallarta. As a crane staring into our galley window. My spirit goes up when I hear the tree frog that has never before been in the fountain, the avocados that have magically appeared on our ancient tree this year after 20 years of being barren. That gorgeous hawk that soared over the house to make a U turn over the canyon way up high. He's just saying hello. I do talk to him then. No crazier than heaven, hell and angels.
David: Wow:
"They go from your outside life to your inside life..."
Yes!
I love that line. Thank you for sharing it.
When I was in my 30's ( I am now 71) my mother died, my older brother died, my in-laws died, and my best friend died before 40. I came to call them my death years. I learned we never "get over" our losses, it becomes a part of who we are. However the pain, definitely decreases. I learned that we never stop having a relationship with our dead -- the relationship continues. When I was 32 I had a very different relationship with my mom, now that I'm 71. I tell my age-peers often (probably to an annoying degree) be grateful to be old, many people don't get to do that.
I’ve lost my husband to leukemia 8 years ago and had cancer twice. Grief for me is best described as waves. Sometimes I’m standing in a little water with a gentle wave and sometimes it’s. Huge wave that almost knocks me over. And there’s no telling when each might happen or what might trigger it Im 70 and Im grateful to have my life
You have captured that feeling so well with this description - I relate hugely xo
Loss is the price we pay for loving. The deeper the love, the higher the price. But it’s still the best deal in town.
<3
This is a powerful distillation of the whole process (and evaluation).
It’s going in my “Wise words” file.
Thank you
Thank you Ali. This is not so much wisdom as experience.
I’m about to be 57. I feel like more than anything, I’m grieving the ignorance I once had that life wasn’t in many ways structured around losses and grief. A “lucky life” obscures that for as long as possible. A lucky life means living long enough to realize it will be an accumulation of losses from having cherished connections. Coping is, I think, about finding others with whom we can share this aspect of humanity. I told my son when his girlfriend broke up with him that he’s closer to much of humanity because he’s experienced this loss (and to notice all the great movies and songs he can identify with now). I tell myself that death is the thing none of us gets out of and binds us together, too. I love Substack for its community of thoughtful grievers and how it animates this connection we share across anonymous humanity. I love how we meditate together on the incomprehensible passage of Time. Both my parents have passed. Recently, I also lost my beloved dog, Raisin who loved me passionately. I miss her very much. I’m so sorry for your loss of your friend and your beloved little car.
Sari, so sorry for your loss — and Eliza and others, yours too. ❤️ I am 57 and I have lost so many people in the last two years that have been so dear to me. I realize that it’s only the beginning of this age and stage. It’s rough, and it’s a privilege. To honor and witness their passing and hold them close inside- that is the price of love and friendship. (Worth it — but so painful and lonely at times)
<3
The best book on end of life is the five invitations by Frank Ostaseski (I’m a death doula and read a lot about grief/loss/end of life) - this is THE book of our time ❤️✨
Oh, thank you. I’ll look it up! Good to hear from a death doula here…
It's a really good book. Both my parents died within the last few years and I've been reading lots of books about dying.
Definitely! It's a beautiful helpful book.
Thank you just ordered the book!
Hello Nim, I'm Jane, nice to meet you. Thanks for this recommendation!
So great to meet you Jane, absolutely in awe with your background!
And I am with yours too Nim! At hospital the other day, a nurse recommended The In Between by Hadley Vlahos - a young palliative nurse. The book on its way.
In April, I lost my daughter Annie to breast cancer. She was 43 and my touchstone. In the 7 years before that I lost my ex-husband, my mom, my sister and my dad, for whom I was a caregiver for 4 years. At 66, it's been a lot. Especially losing. Annie. As a writer, I write about it as a way to understand this new world I live in. I also facilitate a Writing Through Grief writing workshop and--just yesterday--I found out that an anthology I've been working on titled Everyday Grief is getting published. It contains over 70 voices of grief. I feel saturated by it all and the only way I know to deal with it is to write about it, talk about it and be present for it.
How devastating to lose a child. I’m so sorry. Congrats on the anthology book deal. I look forward to reading it!
Thank you. It's the worst. I miss her terribly. And thanks for the congrats--I hope it will be a helpful book for those of us in the throes of grief. ♥️
So sorry for both of your losses. I am 56. I lost my Dad and ex-boyfriend in my 30s and then a rapid number of ex-drinking buddies in my early 50s. I had lost touch with all of them by the time they died as I had moved away and got sober. My tribe is small and shrinking. Both my mother and sister are very sick and they are my people. I am not close with my other siblings who all live far away and have no kids or partner. I am trying to embrace and prepare for life on my own with the help of a grief dhoula and art therapist. One of my happiest memories was when I packed up my stuff and moved across the country without knowing anyone so I hope I can embrace that mindset again and just carve my own unique and solo path while I still have the time and energy.
You made your own adventure and you took charge. That is exhausting! I admire your grit. Give yourself some time to rest up. Then you need to plan another adventure or take on a project to put your mind on and you will reset. Half the fun is in the anticipation and planning. I'm in the process of that right now myself. Yes, while you have the time and energy. Sometimes you just have to make yourself push off and ride that wave!
Next month I should be celebrating my 75th birthday with my best friend, another October baby, who’d be turning 74. She died of brain cancer at 57. She was funny, boundlessly curious, a beautiful writer and human. Of the many deaths I’ve mourned, hers is the one that weighs most heavily on my heart. When I hit a roadblock in my writing, she’s the reader I miss. And yet the thought of her steadies my mind and hands as I write. It opens a channel to her in my imagination. Once in a daydream, she made a joke that only she would make (wrote it, put it in a book). Another time I woke from a dream about her and wrote a strong essay that flowed, which hardly ever happens. The dream and the words arrived a few days before the anniversary of her death. Writing is the best way I know to carry the weight of grief.
My parents’ deaths launched my writing life. I know what it is to rely on that one best reader, too. I feel your loss in multiple directions. ♥️
<3
I lost a friend who died when she was 74. She was ten years older than me, but I have had cancer twice so I assumed she would outlive me. The grief at losing her was compounded by the shock that she died first , unexpectedly of a heart attack. I am a psychotherapist and have sat with many grieving clients. So I knew there was no magic cure for grief, and I would just have to accept the feeling until it subsided over time -- which it did.
Thankyou for this beautiful post. We need more of these conversations. I’m 62. I lost my dad when I was 48, but also at 38 lost him to dementia. I lost my mum when I was 50. I was privileged to be by her side at the end. Holding her hand. My love and appreciation for them continues… I wish they were still with us.
Losing our family cat was also a big sadness for me.
The heart breaks and we put one foot in front of the other. And then one day… we won’t.
Life is such a gift. We must remember this.💜💫
I also lost my dad to dementia. I was 45. Mum passed 4 years ago. I'm now 55. I feel lucky to have had her into my 50s but I wish so much my parents were still here. I'm child free and single and at times feel very detached. I believe no-one will be there for me at the end.
Firstly, I’m so sorry for your loss Sari.
I’m 57, and I’ve lost a few close friends. One of the most jarring was a friend who had ovarian cancer at the same time I had it. She was this huge personality, total potty mouth, but had this voice like Etta James - a room-filler - that it was nearly impossible to believe she could vanish (or die from the same illness I had - and that I could live) My mom’s passing last year, at 85, has been a very different kind of grief - one that’s almost changed me on a cellular level. My creative energy, what used to drive me to write, has changed, maybe dimmed. I’ve been realizing that her presence, even unspoken, might have been a big muse for me in the first place. It’s super strange. I hope it’ll come back but right now, It just doesn’t seem to matter or feel important.
If I were to recommend anything, I’d say Joan Didion’s “ The Year of Magical Thinking” - not because it solves grief, but because she doesn’t try to. Also Chimamanda Ngozi’s “Notes on Grief” and Anderson Cooper’s podcast “All There Is”
Oh, I've been putting off reading The Year of Magical Thinking. I think it might be time. Thank you, Margit. Sorry for your losses, too. <3
Like you said in your post, aging is a privilege. I am in my seventies and have lost several friends. Dying is part of living and we need to recognize it as such. Loosing my childhood girlfriend in a car accident was devastating.
What timing! I am sorry about your friend and I feel grief now too.
First, in May, on the morning I woke up in a remote campsite with my husband cold, stiff and gone. I always thought it would be me first. I sat with him for two hours before the sun came up. I stroked his hair. I couldn't turn him on his back, I couldn't move him. There was obviously no reason to call the EMT's.
There was no cell service. I had to take the dogs out. I found a fellow dog walker and I asked for help. I said I didn't know what to do. My husband has died. He drove me into a spot where cell service worked and we called the proper people and it all got handled. My husband's body was on it's way to Bishop, I was on my way back home with two strangely quiet dogs. I drove for 8 hours. I ate an apple. I drank some coffee. What in the universe just happened?
That was a really long drive. My husband was so private. Even I didn't know his medical details. What had happened? Old age, bad habits and just a worn out body. Now he soars in the Sierras.
How does this work? I sold the RV immediately. I could barely manage to clear it out. My daughter, also in high distress, helped me. I wanted this one trip wonder to disappear from my life.
For the first two months I was manic. I decided to work on the house. I painted and patched the bedroom ceiling. We'd moved the light over two feet so we could put in a fan. It never got finished. It had been 4 years. How many times had we made love with me looking at that ugly ceiling?
Then I painted the bedroom, another bedroom and the hallway. I needed to keep this grief away. I decided to buy new carpet, it was time, I used the old carpet as a drop cloth. Then I painted the baseboards, the doors and the window frames. I had the living room floor refinished. My husband had had it on his to do list.
When that was done, the carpet was installed. In the process I had to empty all of the closets. Salvation Army did well. I had to remove all of the living room furniture. So a revamp. Our 30 year old Karastan rug is irredeemable. I can't part with it yet. It's huge and it's rolled up in the garage.
I honestly don't know where I got the energy. It was powerful, I was working very fast. After 53 years together I had to figure out how to eat alone. Sleep alone. Fix everything. Take charge of the house and grounds. The dogs. They were in shock too. Buster had regressed to lifting his leg on everything. He is still banned from the carpeted part of the house. This is the first morning I haven't had to clean up pee on the freshly refinished floor. There is hope.
I have a small garden harvest coming up. I have to keep moving. I haven't been eating much, I'm not that hungry. I have lost over 20 pounds and still can't figure out what I want to eat. Nothing tastes good really. Embarrassed myself when I was eating out with friends. First plate meal I'd had in months. I inhaled it. My friend's husband actually told me to slow down!
Now I know I have to actually process feelings. I am one of those people who takes forever to let feelings out. I have a big wall. So I tend to be overdramatic when it finally crashes.
My first death was my beloved great Uncle Rudy. I was 9 or 10. I was curled up in the back of his two tone green Oldsmobile that was 20 years old and it felt like Uncle Rudy. I was out there for a long time before my Mother, who was comforting her Aunt, came out to look for me. On that long driveway in Hollywood. That was honest, pure grief unaffected by anyone else, something I could not even begin to understand but it was such a strong feeling of loss. I am really afraid of that right now.
Oh, my god, you lived my biggest fear. I worry each night when I got to sleep that I'll awaken to find Brian kaput. I'm so sorry you experienced that. What a profound loss. Thank you for sharing this. <3
I hope I didn't give you nightmares. The thing I miss the most is cuddling up against his back, spooning. I swear we had come to fit so well. It was how we always went to sleep. That is weird to lose, it's the little things that are the most sad things to lose I guess. So cuddle up Sari and enjoy that you have each other and don't worry cause that doesn't change a thing. It's waste of your energy.
My goodness Meridee what a shocking and unimaginable experience you had to endure.
I wish there were magic words to make things easier but there just aren't. I always fall back on this quote by CS Lewis, "If you love deeply, you're going to get hurt badly. But it's still worth it."
What you said here, "Now I know I have to actually process feelings. I am one of those people who takes forever to let feelings out" resonated with me strongly. I stayed monumentally busy after my son passed for 10+ years. It is scary to face the feelings. I just wanted to let you know, whenever you do let the feelings out, you will be OK... they will not overtake you. But if you can, let someone be there with you and for you. I was obnoxiously independent and did all my grieving alone and that wasn't the best choice to say the least.
Good luck and God bless you on your journey 🤍
I do appreciate your comments here and it's been almost 5 months now I haven't really let the wall down yet I'm trying to do it brick by brick. Finding the best way to heal is to be with my friends. Hugs, laughter. I won't ever be a merry widow but I refuse to pull into my shell and dry up. I am so fortunate we worked really hard to have a pleasant retirement. I never expected to be on my own though. I have learned that death is something that comes along and snatches people, slow or quick. I don't know who it's up to but I know it's foolish to sit and wait for it. I only broke down once last night at the pub. See, one brick. Everyone knew us as a pair. My husband was the gentle giant. They too are learning to see me as one person. I think talking to my friends is going to be a brick by brick experience over a long time. I don't know how you managed to be so independent. I started out that way. I was so freaked out like I said I was manic and full of fury at my fate I guess. I cursed my husband for every thing he ever did and there were some doozy's we won't talk about. I guess that was the anger stage. Talked to a lady in line at the checkout today. She said she had 10 years with her husband watching him die of cancer. She asked me about what stage I was in. I don't know how the subject even came up? We were talking about camping I guess. She said I'm at acceptance. Maybe I am. People asking me how I was doing last night...I said physically just fine, but my heart is going to take years. So maybe that's it. It's still pretty fresh though.
I keep finding physical projects to keep me outdoors so I'm doing a little landscaping now that the garden is finished. Planning and instigating keep me going. I'm not going to play gardener anymore like I used to. I have also had to accept that my shoulders and back are telling me I'm over doing it. Kind of like learning a whole new life. I am trying so far to stay focused on what's next. That is how we always lived, one project after another. A boat to remodel, a house to remodel, a house to rent out to go on the boat, packing every thing away. Over and Over again. I've moved everything I own 28 times from storage to home and back again. I am finally done moving and I'm settling in. On my own. I don't call myself a widow, I am a loner, which is funny when you say it to a stranger cause sometimes it comes off as loaner. ha ha
Thank you Meridee for sharing your story. I’m so sorry you didn’t get to enjoy your retirement with your hubby the way you planned 😞
You are very wise to handle the wall of grief and pain brick by brick. Lean on those friends for sure. And yes, while your head may have accepted the loss, your heart is going to take years.
I almost ended with a silver lining (something akin to the fact that good things can come out of painful things)… but I won’t. Because after only 5 months it’s probably too soon. Right now, it’s just shit.
Sending you positive energy and hugs 🤗
Thank you for the positive reinforcement Jennifer. It is a totally unexpected place to be in for me.
I am going to turn his workshop garage into my art studio, it's something I've always wanted. Time to do art. There was never time. My art was landscaping and painting houses, rearranging furniture and decorating.
I also helped get several boats ready for open water. I learned to be really good at provisioning for a three week run at sea with no stores. I got to learn to live without electricity, and an endless water supply. That incredible freedom I have missed the most. I also accept the fact that we were actually getting to old to do it. At 72 the body wants comfort. Not rough seas.
A sculpture class, a writer's workshop, that's all I got in. Now is different from before. I am not focused on someone else's happiness, I can focus on my own. I am starting to realize how co dependent you can get after 53 years together. I have never thought that was a bad thing in a long relationship. The worst part is not having someone else who has your back like that. I am up for watching out for myself, just miss the luxury of not having to. It was so hard accepting that it is gone along with the person who I loved, who irritated me, who disappointed me, who surprised me and gave me so much more than love, and love.
I don't know how people who don't have friends get through this. I realize people do die, and we were so fortunate to have this group of friends, cultivated through 15 years of weekly music get togethers. My musician friends, their wives, I love them dearly.
An art studio sounds wonderful. And I’ll take comfort over rough seas any day too (though it does sound like you experienced many adventures and learned a lot in the process 🤩).
Lean on those wonderful friends. Such a treasure ❤️
Thank you Jennifer. We believed in living to the max while we were living right? It was pretty tight financially but it happened and I am so grateful. I remember being in my 50’s on one trip and meeting a couple on a brand new boat who were in their 70’s with no idea what they were doing. Had to respect that will to do it, like a lifelong dream. But at one port we sadly looked on while they held each other on the dock. She died on the spot. On a dock used by fishermen in Mexico. We had helped them reanchor their boat just a week before at one of the islands. Lessons in reality. Live while you are living. My husband loved the saying, “everything will kill you, pick something fun”