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I’m currently reading “The Anatomy of Grief” by Dorothy P. Holinger Ph.D., and while I’m less than halfway through the book, her words have touched me deeply. One important note is that I started reading this book hoping to find answers; both for myself and my own struggles, as well as for my loved ones also experiencing grief. Because, as grief is such a personal experience, it can feel difficult and even frustrating to not be able to understand what others so close to you are going through.
Holinger refers to grief as “bone etching sadness that imbues the self of the survivor” (Holinger, 53). When I read these words, I knew exactly what they meant. I felt them. If you had asked me what they meant last fall, I may have said I understood. I may have even believed that I did understand. But now-- now I know that I surely did not understand. Not because I didn’t want to, or didn’t care. But rather, it is impossible.
Losing a loved one is more than the gut-retching feeling at the funeral, or getting that phone call, or even holidays. Yes, those all suck. Like so bad. But it goes so far beyond that. It’s the constant nagging in the back of your head; “they’re dead. You’ll never see them again”. It’s feeling like you can’t drive past their house. Or, conversely, the need to drive past their house just to make sure it’s still there. One thing that hasn’t changed. To walk around it and remember them. Others may occasionally have that loss flit across their mind. For the loved one’s and family, it is a constant underlying fact that must be faced several times each day. It’s laying in your bed at night and wondering “Are they with me right now? What would they say about my life now”.
There has not been a day since my grandmother passed that I don’t think about it, or her, several times a day. This feeling truly is “bone-etching”, as it becomes a part of who you are and quite literally comes to define parts of you. Once it is in your bones, it is impossible to remove. It is able to become a part of your very identity, and there is nothing you can do about it.
For the dead, it is the end of their life. But, for those left behind, it is being robbed of two things; both the life of the loved one and the life with the loved one in it (Holinger, 54). Not only do you lose the person, but you lose the ability to live like you did. There are 100 things that one must deal with daily that may have never even crossed their mind days before. Even the little things; having to remind yourself that you can’t text them, dealing with their property, having to tell others that they have passed, and so much more. It requires a change of mindset.
Holinger refers to death as a language, and a language that we must teach ourselves. Bereavement is a language that none of us want to learn, but unfortunately will likely be forced to become familiar with at some point. The language of grief has it’s own “vocabulary, syntax, and idiosyncrasies'' (Holinger, 57) that we must work through and discover on our own. This language, often, looks different for everyone. A word in this language is a microcosm of human consciousness (Holinger, 53)
I remember prior to my grandmother’s sudden passing, I never thought of death. That was something for old people. Something I would deal with in 10-15 years. Now, it is a part of my daily life. I wonder quite often, “who will be next”. I’ve become more anxious about those I love doing potentially risky things, and my heart skips a beat every time I get a phone call or ominous text message. My mind, body, and spirit, still reeling from the last loss, is already anticipating the next one.
I’m truly enjoying Holinger’s perspective as she is able to illuminate and explain this intimate aspect of humanity. As mentioned, I have not finished the book. But, what I have read thus far has moved me so
much so that I felt the need to write something up before I forgot which parts I loved. Grief is truly a messy, and ironica
lly undying process that is just as integral to the human experience as is love, fear, and excitement.
Holinger, Dorothy P. Anatomy of Grief. Yale University Press, 2020.