My brother died in January. He and I had been closest as children and into early adulthood. He was my “first person” in the world and I couldn’t have picked a better boy with whom to explore this planet. His death was like an axe which broke my frozen heart. I happen to be working in an Assisted Living Facility these days. I immediately went back to work after hearing that my brother had died. I needed distraction. But I found so much more than that. I found three people who reside in one building: they each helped me to release the pent-up stoic tears that refused to fall. The first person is a Jewish female with large eyes that look like wells of ink. She is 86 and has traveled the world. Her apartment is full of exotic art from Asia. When I told her about my brother, she told me that her brother had also died. And that she stayed in bed eating very buttery popcorn for a month thereafter. But she also told me this: “I was married to a man who left me for another man in the 1970’s. This may not seem like a big deal these days, but it was back then. My daughter was ruined by this. I later met another man, who was a great match. But I never married him because I was too afraid to hurt my daughter.” This woman had lost a brother, a marriage and was carrying the pain of her grown child. The second person is an Italian woman with the skinniest legs you have ever seen. She is 96, has a theatrical presence and also has the kind of dementia where she flits from this world to another in a span of seconds. This woman wears a sea captain’s hat and large movie star sunglasses. I took her on a walk outside in the sun and told her about my brother. She paused and as she was speaking to me, her forgetfulness vanished. “My sister Louise killed herself. I tried to kill myself years ago, and failed. I realized that planning your own death is a lot of work and I didn’t want to go through with that again.” She wasn’t able to recall the details of her suicide attempt or when it occurred. But she finished the conversation with these words: “Your mother must be so distraught. I can feel her pain. She lost her son. But don’t lose sight of the fact that she still has you!” The third person is a tall and elegant gentleman who is 87. He’d been quite successful in life and wears a red cardigan every day, even in the Florida heat. I knew his wife had recently died, but she had been nonverbal and bedbound for the last five years preceding her death. “I used to visit her every day and spoon feed her lunch. It was incredibly hard to watch someone you love suffer for years on end,” he told me. My brother had suffered from mental illness and I knew what this man meant about prolonged pain. He and I hadn’t spoken during the last five years because there was too much rage between us. I asked this man how he got through what he had. “I used to play golf. It was great for business, but I also loved the sport. I learned something that made my game improve. You’ve got to surround yourself with players who are better than you. When you do this, in any arena in life, you will find that you will push yourself to be better, stronger and you will be the kind of person who tackles problems with more courage because of it.” In ruminating about loss, which I am quite prone to doing, I now catch myself before the thoughts begin to control me. I can grieve better because of these three people who I met at just the right time. They are all different, these three, but they all are better players at the game of loss. I can think of no better way to heal than this kind of interconnectedness. (Although lying in bed for a month eating buttery popcorn helps with healing too). Whether you are faced with a cancer diagnosis, death of a loved one or even losing a job that you adored, it is important to surround yourself with better players at grief. Seek them out and they will appear. Because these players want to help you and they know that perhaps the only way they can is to tell you, “I know what you are feeling. This pain is very real. Let’s carry it together.”
5 Comments
joan Bradley
2/16/2023 05:41:19 am
If you need someone to talk to i'm always here. please call or stop by any time. I care
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Carol Morrison
2/16/2023 07:26:46 am
Becca, that was beautifully said. You have a gift. Very enlightening. Thank you.
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2/16/2023 07:37:29 am
Thanks for sharing your story and their perspectives.
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Janine
2/16/2023 10:51:25 am
so beautifully written…. helps me with my anticipatory grief ❤️which cripples me on many levels on a daily basis. Bec you have a gift and you are talented beyond words .
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Valorie Russell
2/18/2023 06:25:17 pm
Becca, Beautifilly written. I am available ,if you need a person to talk to. May God give you the comfort and peace that you yearn for. God bless you.
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