I’ve lost two dear friends in the past few weeks, to terminal illnesses. One was in her 80s, the other in his late 20s and just starting his life in many ways. That’s why I haven’t been posting much in the past little while. One thing I have been reflecting on quite a lot, though, is how kind each of these wonderful people was. I’ve said it before, and will no doubt say it again; basic human kindness is underrated.
These two lovely souls were both people I’d worked with, and in both instances we’d just ‘clicked’ somehow – despite decades-wide gaps in our ages. Kindness, as they say, knows no age. I’d kept in touch with each, after we went our separate ways career-wise years ago. As I was in contact with each during their terminal illnesses, neither death was unexpected. Despite that, of course, I’m still grieving for both losses. And for their families and other friends.
Because I’ve done end-of-life counselling through my past work in bioethics, I’m not uncomfortable talking about death in the way that family members of terminally ill patients sometimes are. That can make it seem – to people who don’t know me well – as though I don’t care, that I’m not saddened and grieving when someone does pass away. Trust me, I do feel each loss… in particular when it’s someone I love, whether as family or friend.
Now I’m helping these families reach out to their loved-one’s former colleagues, in the large multinational companies where we’d worked together. This is something that I really want to do, to honour these friends, but it means that I’ve been receiving outpourings of other people’s grief – people who weren’t aware that they’d been ill.
I’m okay with this additional grief, because I have a fantastic support network; my husband (who knew both friends), other family members, and my other close friends. This is also part of how I’m choosing to honour my two friends… by giving their other current or former colleagues and ‘work-buddies’ a safe space to grieve.
Because it’s okay to cry, to be sad, to grieve.
That’s part of what makes us human.
It’s a sign of kindness, not weakness.
Of love, not hate.
And, while I’m grieving the loss of these two kind, generous, and brilliant friends – both artists in different ways – I’m also feeling grateful…
Grateful that our paths crossed through those workplaces, and that I had the true pleasure to become friends with each of them; people that I likely never would have met otherwise.
This post is a reminder that it’s okay for us to show our emotions. Not only the happy and hopeful moments, but also the sad or uncertain times.
Our emotions are part of what make us… HUMAN.
Not weak, not ‘damaged’, but… human.
“Throughout life, we experience many instances of grief. Grief can be caused by situations, relationships, or even substance abuse. Children may grieve a divorce, a wife may grieve the death of her husband, a teenager might grieve the ending of a relationship, or you might have received terminal medical news and are grieving your pending death.” (1)
People living with chronic pain or other debilitating chronic illnesses may also find themselves grieving for the person that they used to be. For the loss of their dreams and hopes for the future, now changed or obliterated by the new reality of their health situation. The impact of life limitations caused by chronic pain and chronic illness – particularly the more invisible health conditions – is often underestimated not only by healthcare professions, but also by the individual’s family and friends.
Back in the 1960s, a Swiss-American psychiatrist named Elisabeth Kübler-Ross described five relatively common stages of grief. These won’t necessarily be experienced by every person who is experiencing grief, or in this order. But it’s still worth knowing what these ‘common’ stages of grief are (1):
- Denial
- Anger
- Bargaining
- Depression
- Acceptance
That last one, acceptance, is where I am now. There was some time to prepare for what was coming, emotionally and mentally, because of terminal illness. What was important for me was that I got to say good-bye. Each of these friends knew that I cared about them, while I know that they didn’t die alone; their families were with them at the end.
The sadness is still there, and the disbelief, but I’m able to write about these two lovely people now without crying. They wouldn’t have wanted tears, but rather happy memories.
On that note, thanks so much for stopping by. We’ve all experienced grief and loss in our lives, so I wish you the comfort and peace of good memories of your own loved one. Feel free to comment over on Instagram or Twitter; I’ve had to disable the blog’s Comments feature because it was too much for me to manage with the cognitive issues caused by my rare disease.
Reference
(1) Christina Gregory, PhD. The Five Stages of Grief: An Examination of the Kubler-Ross Model. PsyCom website; Remedy Health Media. 14 Apr 2022. Accessed 07 Jun 2022. Online:
https://www.psycom.net/depression.central.grief.html