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'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.
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.
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
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 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 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.
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 ❤️✨
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.
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.
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!
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.
Have you lost many friends or loved ones in your lifetime? Yes. I also work as a hospice chaplain. So, some manner of loss is a daily experience as we come to love the people we serve.
Is there one death that’s had more of an effect on your than others? Yes. Two, actually.
If so, who was it, and why did it affect you so strongly? A seminary classmate of mine died of cancer in her 30s while we were in studies together. She was young, brilliant, and vivacious until she suddenly wasn’t. And my sister-in-law died of breast cancer leaving two young boys and a bereft extended family. She was the glue and nothing has been the same since.
Do you have a particular way of dealing with grief? It’s a long journey of meeting, denying, or embracing grief. I write a lot. I share memories with those who knew them. I keep memorabilia around me. Crying is a grace.
Have any books or podcasts or newsletters to recommend? Scores. It’s a professional habit. I’ll share a photo of a few.
What gets you through times of mourning like I’m experiencing right now? Patience, compassion, and other people…I tend to isolate when I’m grieving. That only takes me but so far. I need others more in times of grief than almost any other time. It’s easy to forget that.
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.
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. ♥️
While I was reading your post I was interrupted by a text, a friend just died of ALS. My sixties will be remembered by this death as well as the overwhelming loss of my 22 year old son to suicide and my 97 year old father to renal failure.
I collect stones that look like hearts. I painted two and keep them with me.
Today I’ll paint another. It is how I carry my grief.
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.
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.
David: Wow:
"They go from your outside life to your inside life..."
Yes!
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.
I love that line. Thank you for sharing it.
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
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 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.
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
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.
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.
Thank you just ordered the book!
Hello Nim, I'm Jane, nice to meet you. Thanks for this recommendation!
Definitely! It's a beautiful helpful book.
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.
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.
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!
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.💜💫
How old are you? 54
Have you lost many friends or loved ones in your lifetime? Yes. I also work as a hospice chaplain. So, some manner of loss is a daily experience as we come to love the people we serve.
Is there one death that’s had more of an effect on your than others? Yes. Two, actually.
If so, who was it, and why did it affect you so strongly? A seminary classmate of mine died of cancer in her 30s while we were in studies together. She was young, brilliant, and vivacious until she suddenly wasn’t. And my sister-in-law died of breast cancer leaving two young boys and a bereft extended family. She was the glue and nothing has been the same since.
Do you have a particular way of dealing with grief? It’s a long journey of meeting, denying, or embracing grief. I write a lot. I share memories with those who knew them. I keep memorabilia around me. Crying is a grace.
Have any books or podcasts or newsletters to recommend? Scores. It’s a professional habit. I’ll share a photo of a few.
What gets you through times of mourning like I’m experiencing right now? Patience, compassion, and other people…I tend to isolate when I’m grieving. That only takes me but so far. I need others more in times of grief than almost any other time. It’s easy to forget that.
“Crying is a grace.” I love that
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
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. ♥️
While I was reading your post I was interrupted by a text, a friend just died of ALS. My sixties will be remembered by this death as well as the overwhelming loss of my 22 year old son to suicide and my 97 year old father to renal failure.
I collect stones that look like hearts. I painted two and keep them with me.
Today I’ll paint another. It is how I carry my grief.
I am 68.
What timing. So sorry for your loss(es). <3