How to Move On After the Death of a Loved One
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When we lose a loved one, in the beginning it isn't so much a matter of moving on, as it is of getting through the day. That period referred to as "the beginning", however, is a long one, and it doesn't end all at once. Its ending is more aptly described as "slowly fading". Even, too, as we cannot imagine moving on, we do; because each day comes and goes, and here we still are, going through the motions and getting through each of those days.
After losing my parents, several aunts and uncles, some close friends, a baby nephew, and my own unborn baby I had come to the realization that it takes five years before it feels as if we are really ourselves. My conclusion was confirmed, too, when, on the fifth anniversary of September 11, 2001, Diane Sawyer interviewed the families of some of the victims. She said that it was noticeable that the fifth anniversary had seemed to bring change in the progress of the family members, when it came to their grief. She noted that upon interviewing them for that fifth anniversary program they were finally showing signs of looking forward to new futures, and that it seemed clear they had entered a new phase.
Saying that it takes a full five years to feel back to oneself isn't saying that we feel equally horrible at four and a half years as we do when only one year has passed. With each day that passes we move farther and farther away from that initial shock and grief, so we don't feel the same several months or two years later as we do in the beginning. It is a gradual fading, but what I found was that the grief remained painfully close to the surface far longer than I once imagined it would.
As one year passes we expect to feel a lot better than we may actually feel. What I discovered was that there is that numbness that occurs when loss is so terrible our minds can't bear it, and as the numbness wears off the thoughts that need processing emerge. I found that those painful thoughts were thoughts I could bear only in small doses before becoming overcome with grief again. What I discovered, though, was that as the grief flared up again the numbness would return. This was a process of dealing with the more difficult thoughts a little at a time in small doses, over the months that followed a death. As the first anniversary came, however, I was dismayed to discover that after a year of being numb so much of the time, the numbness would wear off; and then I would begin to feel all the grief, almost as if for the first time.
What always helped me was that "get-through-each-day" thinking that seemed to come naturally. I gave myself permission to not think about the grief or the person if at all possible. I told myself that the person I loved would understand if I had to wait for a while before thinking about him/her. I reminded myself that I had the rest of my life to think about this person, and that my main objective at the time was to get through each day.
We all have our usual daily activities we must do, and that helps. One thing I realized, too, is that grief seems to creep into our minds and push all the positive, nurturing, thoughts and memories we have to the back of our minds (or even into a "closet" along "the outer edges").
It's as if our minds are one, big, room full of sadness and grayness. The longer that "grayness" takes up most of the space in "the main part" of our mind, the more chance it has to "take hold" and seem to harden.
As the days and months pass, though, if we have even small moments of joy or at least positive thoughts, those small positive thoughts and "bits" of joy start to move into that "gray emptiness". Sometimes those positive moments may be as simple as laughing at a televison show or enjoying a walk on beautiful day. They can come if we do something new or buy something that gives us pleasure or get out and have some good conversations and coffee with friends. They're small and seemingly minor, but they start to accumulate; and if they don't push all that grief into the background completely, they at least brighten the "gray". As time passes, if we make it a point to keep finding just those small joys in life the "grayness" no longer takes up our whole mind. If we're lucky, time also brings some big joys in life; and when they occur they have a way of rushing in and pushing the "gray" into the background a little farther.
When we are grieving it is unbearable a good part of the time, and barely bearable the rest of the time. When we're in acute grief we're in shock, and it isn't a time to even think about moving on. Moving on isn't something we can always just decide to do. Instead, moving on seems to kind of slip in, take us by the hand, and lead us away from the grief. That is, I guess, because "moving on" and "time" are pretty much the same thing.
My advice to anyone going through grief would be to take care of your own emotions. Give your mind a chance to rest from the grief and just think of neutral or pleasant things as often as possible. Being with someone can help, although we can all find ways to bring small joys into our days by ourselves. Sometimes something as seemingly silly as buying a pretty set of potholders can brighten a day. Cheerful music, enjoying a morning or evening walk, going out to have a coffee alone at an outdoor table, spending time with a child, having a pet - anything that helps keep our mind on more pleasant things is good. We may not be able to control what big joys come or when, but we can control whether or not we find some small ones.
I don't believe people should worry about things like whether or not they give away or pack away the deceased person's belongings in a hurry. For some, clearing out belongings is a way of trying to move on; but my opinion is that clearing away belongings can be more painful too early; and the presence of someone's belongings (as long as they aren't, say, out and in our way each day) doesn't stop us from moving on. I'm not sure feeling pressured to get rid of them helps us move on either. My approach has always been to make a reasonable effort to put away or pack away things that would be too ridiculous to leave around, but not be in a hurry to make permanent decisions or to get rid of every last item that had belonged to the deceased. I found that time, as always, was the thing that told me when I was ready to do that type of thing.
Developing an "I'm the star of this show" attitude can help guide us through grief. Once someone is gone, in the beginning they are "the star of the show". After the funeral or memorial service, though, we become "the star of our own show". The focus - at least for the immediate future - needs to be on us and on getting through the most difficult period. Sleeping when we can helps our minds rest. Eating well if possible helps us give our body what it needs to help our mind deal with things. Getting our daily work done, even if we're just going through the motions, help keep our mind occupied; but if there's a day when you just don't feel up to getting some things done, giving yourself permission to just rest or find one of those small joys is important.
Reminding yourself that your loved one would want you to do what it takes to get through the grief can help. So can realizing that if you don't think about them for a while it doesn't mean you'll forget them, aren't grieving, or didn't love them.
When we lose a loved one we never get over it completely, but we get to a point where we are back to feeling like ourselves (even if we still have that little part of our mind that remains a little gray). When we first lose someone it is an unbearable shock that's hard to believe. Once the shock wears off the grief swoops in and over us and can sometimes make it feel as if we can't even breathe. Grief is a monster that we can't kill or tame all at once. It is a monster that, when met over time with moments of a neutral, pleasant, or joyous nature, will start to shrink and retreat, leaving behind only a small footprint. We need to accept that that footprint will always be there, but as the weeks and months go by the grief does die down a little at a time.
What we may be surprised to discover, though, is that far sooner than we would have thought we do laugh again. We have those moments when we feel pretty much like "the real us". There is no doubt that we continue to battle our thoughts and fight off either tears or the overwhelming horror that come with tears we can't fight off. Still, it is surprising how soon so much of our days is spent feeling reasonably normal. I suppose what happens is that even while we are consumed by, and in the grips of, that overpowering, huge, monster that is grief; time's force continues to pull it away from us; and the resilience of a heart that has loved so much eventually prevails.
Sometimes others will worry that we're not "moving on", and they can even make us feel as if we should stop talking about the loved one if we talk about him a little too much, or get rid of his belongings faster than we have, or simply start a new life sooner than we appear to be. My advice to the grieving would be to stay strong and stay true to yourself. Deal with your grief that way you need to, and don't feel pressured by others who would deal with it differently.
Difficult as it is to believe when we have just lost someone, we all just keep moving on, whether or not we want to, and whether or not we appear to be. If you ask how to get through your days, rather than ask how to move on, time will move you on, and your heart will will tell you when to take another step.
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"Dead" on!
Very true and very well written.
Excellent hub Lisa.
Hi Lisa HW, I enjoyed this article and will read more of your hubs. I can relate to it having lost my wife to cancer at a time in life when it should have been the best time of our life. Mid 40's, our daughter off to college, presented what should have been a great time in our lives. But now having a daughter to finish raising meant I had to stay focused and strong for her. However, having stayed home and leaving work for almost two years to assist my wife left me with difficulty focusing on going back to work. So it was with much effort that I made myself return.
I could not allow my grief and sorrow to over take me, my daughter was only in her first semester and now looked soley to me for guidance, not a time to look weak.
I didn't ever think of it as moving on, more like carrying on. I did find it hard clearing her things out. I actually spent three years contiuning projects on our home that she had wanted. The home was really her project, it is a replica of a historic new england 1760 circa home. It was a lifetime type project that meant every few years completing or adding , as the work was custom and expensive. It gave me something I could focus on. I have come to peace with myself and look at life quite differently than I did before, taking each day one at a time.
The Shark---swimming peacefully
Shark, so sorry to hear that your family has been yet another victim of an awful disease like cancer. I think it's so often having our children to remain strong for that helps keep us reasonably held together.
Not to compare losing a more elderly parent to losing a young wife, but I took care of my bedridden mother for the 15 months before she passed away. There wasn't just caring for her, but the house and any number of others things. As the months wore on I spent more and more time/energy just "taking care". When my mother died I realized I was still going around "taking care" (doing her bedroom "all nice", as it had been before the hospital bed and equipment had been brought in, and finding projects that I thought were my job to do "now that she wasn't here"). One day I kind of stopped and thought, "What are you doing? Why are you doing all these things for no real good reason?" I realized that I had been in a kind of "high-strung, high-speed, taking-care, mode" for so long I had become kind of stuck in it. I stopped and thought, "You don't have to be doing stuff for her now. You're free to do your own stuff." That "taking-care-of mode" becomes so much a part of us it takes a little time to return to "normal mode". Then, though, I realized I didn't quite know what to do with all that "freedom". It was as if I had to "find the regular me" again.
As you say, "carrying on" is a wiser approach than aiming to "move on". Carrying on is the thing that eventually leads to moving on. I think too often people worry too much (about themselves or grieving family/friends) about whether someone is moving on. Carrying on is the thing that takes a certain kind of skill, and moving on is something that everyone eventually does without making any particular efforts.
Thanks for contributing your experience here. Someone who finds this Hub may be in the exact situation as you have been.
I was looking online for grieving after one year for my best friend Gayle who lost her husband. I came across your message and was astounded at the wisdom in each paragraph. I also went through terrible grief approximately 7 1/2 years ago when I lost my sister in law and good friend, Diane, from lung cancer. We were friends from 13 years of age. I swear that I had a nervous breakdown with a whole pile of other stuf fand other deaths going on all around the same time.
I had my friend over for breakfast today, the one year anniversary of Ed's death and gave her a copy of your story, I hope that it helps her.
Thank you so much for posting this for others to read and hopefully help heal.
Carry on.
Elaine, so sorry to hear of the grief you've been through and thank you for your kind words. I hope, too, that some of the words in this Hub may be of some help to your friend too. Like most people who have put in a few decades of adult life, I've had those years when it seems like the reasons for grief just keep on coming. I noticed that with the unfortunate, additional, experiences of dealing with it I became aware that we can't make it go away; but we can find ways to cope and "give ourselves a mental break" while we're going through it.
I think, too, that people are sometimes worried about giving themselves permission not to think about the grief for a little while. They feel as if they will be betraying the lost loved one, or they may worry that it isn't psychologically healthy to seem to be "trying to hide from it" or "escape from it". Those little and seemingly insignificant "mental breaks", though, really can make the difference between having a more bearable day and one that makes us feel as if we'll lose our minds.
Based on my own experience or else other things I've read/heard about grief, I think your friend is just now (after reaching that first-year anniversary) about to start the real "healing" process.
Thank you again for your kind words, and sincerest wishes that your friend find ways to get through what will most likely be increasingly less difficult days.
I lost my mum last year, and I thought I was getting over it, but then when i chose my new house yesterday, all I wanted to do was ring my mum and tell her about it..... it just makes you cry.... I enjoyed reading this... I thought I would never get over my sister dying.... but 1 0 years on the pain as almost gone....
Brenda, sorry to know that you're yet another who has gone through losing your mother and sister. When my mother died a local minister came by. He talked about grief and how there is always a part of it that stays with us, although it, of course, does "mellow". My father has been gone for 35 years, and I'm over that. My mother has been gone for almost 13, and I have to say I'm nowhere near as "equally over it". It's a whole lot different (and better) now than it was at three or four years, but I'm surprised to see how bad it still can be at this late stage. I didn't notice when it "died down" with my father but it took a good, long, time as well. I guess what happens is that it dies down very gradually but over time it also doesn't take up as much of our thoughts. We learn to live with it, and I'm convinced that positive experiences (even small, seemingly unimportant ones) eventually come in and push the sadness more into the background.
I remember my mother and her sisters talking about their own mother, whom they lost as young adults. Decades later they still had a certain wistfulness in their voices when they spoke about her.
Thanks for acknowledging my comments...... It's so nice to share these things with people that understand.... god bless....
I lost my mother in1980 and father in 1986. "Moving On" has not occurred. I still want my parents! The pain is now memories, that is all the difference. I am a child enough to give a hand and a leg to get my parents back, but an adult enough to understand it will not be. At least, you, as ladies can cry.
bala99, thanks for contributing. Sorry to know that you're among what must be the millions and millions of people who feel as you do. What may be "strangely enough" to you, I never spent a lot of time crying after losing my parents; because I was afraid that if I let myself it would never stop. It helped to "keep on a lid on" the crying. :)
There's never anything anyone can say to make anyone else feel better; but as a mother of grown kids myself, I can tell you that if anything were to happen to me I would not want my kids carrying their longing decades past my passing. At the same time, I know exactly what you mean about wishing they were still here. Once parents are gone it can seem as if every family holiday has someone missing - forever. I think "moving on" isn't really about not wanting to have them here. I think it's more a matter of doing what you've probably done - know they can't be here and build a life in spite of having that element of loss there. I've always seen that "element of loss" we're left with after losing parents as the price we pay for having had parents we were close to and loved. Not everyone is close to their parents. Those who haven't had loving, close, parents often pay a number of different "prices".
This hub was a very self-affirmative read for me. It applies as much to a divorce or significant loss; I have long thought of myself as a 'widow' rather than a divorcee and don't know if others bereave as much over relationships as I do. It seems many do not, and have not been very supportive of my own grieving process. Thank you immensely for your insight.
sbeakr, thank you. :) You're right that loss and grief don't always necessarily involve a death. Although there are, of course, those people who are just delighted once they get their divorce, many grieve the loss of a life they had hoped they'd have, the loss of hopes they had for their marriage, or any number of other things. Then, too, there are those who would not have chosen to divorce if they had a choice, and they grieve.
In fact, I think there are a lot of things that can go on in life that mean someone ends up grieving the loss of the life they thought they'd have or the future they thought they'd have. In a way, maybe that kind of grief can be particularly challenging because others understand grief after a death. Others don't always understand the grief over other major losses.
Not that I have any particularly helpful advice; but I once went through a serious accident that took the life of a friend. The one thing that got me through was to think, "This thing will not take more from me than it already has." I was 20 years old when that happened, but those words are words that I've kept in mind any time I've ever been faced with a serious loss (even when a death wasn't involved). I guess, at least for me, when faced with a loss other than one involving losing someone through death, I've found that it helps to see myself as a fighter, rather than a victim of a loss. People can choose to see themselves as a fighter.
Not that you haven't thought of this on your own, but it can help to read about or talk with others who understand similar situations. The odds of having someone in our immediate circle who has gone through something very similar aren't always great. We have only so many close friends and relatives. Sometimes just the right book can be far more "supportive" than even the most well intended friends and relatives.
Hi Lisa. I lost my partner to a gruesome death early this year. And eversince, I have been fighting that grayness off of my head. This article or should I say hub of yours really made me think. Its nice to know that there are people out there who can really relate to how I feel. I'm still at a loss right now. There are days when I am okay, but more often than not I'm just broken. Thanks for sharing your thoughts and insights. God Bless you and your family.
Mark, condolences on the awful loss of your partner. I know there are different elements to each type of loss, and it can feel particularly isolating not to know anyone who has had "the exact kind of loss" we have. Still, all kinds of grief also shares some very important elements (as far as how we feel goes), so for the most part, anyone who has had lost someone beloved does, at least, know some of what we're going through when we've had a recent loss.
At less than a year after your loss you're not all that far along that road back to not feeling "broken", but, as you've noticed, some days are ok enough. The number of those days will increase over time. It's a long, slow, process; but sometimes we're also surprised to realize how "ok" we eventually discover we feel. Bless you too.
I was lookig online for life after one year and by chance happened to find you. I have found your comments invaluable as, as the 1 year came and went, after losing my 23 year old only son, the pain and grief seemed to start in ernest. The first year has been spent in a state of numbness and then the reality has started to hit but as you say in small size pieces that your brain can cope with. You have described it exactly as I have been trying to expalin it to people. Thank you.
Wend', my heart goes out to you in your loss of your son. Words seem so meaningless when we hear of any parent's loss of a child. The unfortunate thing about the numbness that comes with grief (that comes with losing someone very close) is that we still live in grief, even with the "cushion" of the numbness.
If there was one thing that most took me aback about "big" grief it was, I think, the way that the one-year-anniversary seemed to mark the beginning of really starting to gradually process the loss. We usually expect to feel better after that first year (and in ways we do - sort of), and, for me, discovering that the first year of "complete" numbness would be followed by "the beginning of fresh grief" was unexpected. It can feel as if others are thinking we should moving on better at that one-year point, and we can feel as if we're almost as "Square One". What some people may not understand is that we actually have been "moving along", because if we weren't that numbness would not have begun to wear off (allowing us to begin to have those brief moments of actually feeling/processing/thinking about the loss before the numbness kicks in again).
I was also surprised to discover that it was often in the second year that I experienced "weird" dreams about the lost loved one, only later to see that my dreams seemed to "address" the issues associated with the loss in layers; with the first dreams seeming to involve simple wish that the person were here, but becoming more difficult to figure out as I moved toward the point where the strange dreams no longer came. After the loss of my mother (following a particularly complicated, difficult, and heartbreaking situation) my sister and I discovered that we were having almost parallel dreams (in terms of the "story" to the dreams). It made it so clear to me that even while we process grief in our own ways, we can also process it pretty much in the same way as others who share it in equal intensity.
I know there's nothing any of us can say to anyone else who is going through grief that will help that person feel any better; but I think, at least, if grieving people can step back a little and see the process of whatever is happening with them as the "part of the process" it is, maybe, at least, it can help to know that it is "par for the course" and will pass.
This is going to come across as making lighter of grief than I am, but my approach has always been: "If you can't make it go away, try to figure out 'the mechanics' of it." That doesn't make the grief any less painful, but at least it reassures us to realize that whatever we're doing at any given time is normal. When we're going through grief we don't feel grounded. "Figuring out the mechanics" of what's going on can help us feel just a little more grounded, and that, in itself, can make us feel just a little bit better.
Sincerest, sincerest, condolences to you. No parent should have to experience the kind of loss you have.
Thank you for sharing on here, because someone in a situation similar to yours may benefit from your first-hand description of how the pain and grief seemed to start in ernest at that one year point.
Thank you - your words have helped enormously.It has now been 14months since we last saw our son. It does help to read other's accounts and to know that you are 'moving along' even though you feel as if you are wading through treacle most of the time.When you think you are going completely mad you realise that you are not and that it is all perfectly natural for the most horrid situation you could ever find yourself in.
Some people have thought that "we are better" because we have been able to laugh but there is a very fine line between laughter and tears. Where does one stop and the other start? All we know is, is that for the sake of our son we have to carry on because it is that that he would have wanted - he always had a saying that it was the 3 of us together and that cannot change.
Daniel Pyle says:
17 months ago
Great Hub Lisa! Thanks for your care on this matter. I know for me that moving on is a sometimes painful and seemingly impossible task, but I have done some of my best living while letting go. The losses have accelerated my attempts to live like I was dying and to take risks that I would have otherwise not taken. Thanks again.