People have studied grief, I’m sure before, Kubler-Ross, and we know they have since.  Churches, mental health organizations, and individuals who have seen it, lived it, or been involved with it have published books dedicated to the subject.  I’ve read numerous books and websites and I’ve found that, in spite of the plethora of sage advice, I think there is no such thing as a guidebook.  I’m supposed to be in the process of accepting my husband’s death but the only thing I’ve accepted is that there is no guidebook for anything.  C.S. Lewis wrote a wonderful book but it helped only in that he was someone who had a way with words, the honesty of self-introspection, and the commonality of death of a spouse.  Kubler-Ross’s theory of the Five Stages of Grief was based on her studies of terminal cancer patients.  The chosen and aptly named five are denial, anger, bargaining, depression and acceptance.  Criticism of her theory has been her lack of independent research and neglected the varied patient situations and how it affected the cycle.  All variables aside though, she was pretty dead on.  No pun intended.

Others have taken her work and expanded it, altered the words to fit, and bastardized her notes to fit the bereaved.  There is also the fine print at the bottom of these works that say, “all these emotions may be felt individually, or some not at all.  Some bereaved may feel them over and over or one at a time.  Some bereaved may take only six months to pass through this timeline, a year, or many years.  But if you find you are refusing to go out and meet people, feeling suicidal, or that life is not worth living, please contact your doctor immediately.”

I saw an alert for Ambien that pretty much had the same disclaimer with the exception of the driving while asleep part.

One site on the stages of grief cut through what I guess they believed was the deadwood and narrowed it down to three, numbness, disorganization, and then reorganization.   The intense anguish of the death of a loved one fell somewhere in and between and through numbness and disorganization.  Reorganization was the reawaking of the bereaved to a new life, moving on with birds chirping and puffy white clouds floating across a blue, blue sky a la the opening of The Simpsons.  Remembrance of the dearly departed was in there as a “loving memory of your loved one from your past.”  I am so not there yet.  But it made me laugh.  Thanks.

I found yet another site that offers seven stages of grief.  At first, I was happy with only three until they had whittled all the fun out of wallowing.  But when I found the seven things site, I thought, okay.   This one may have enough stuff to do that I can really pine away for a good long while.  Na-uh.  Seven things? It was more like fourteen.  Bring a toothbrush and sleeping bag.  Here they are.

The Seven Stages of Grief: shock and denial, pain and guilt, anger and bargaining, shock and denial, pain and guilt, anger and bargaining depression/reflection/loneliness, the upward turn, reconstruction/working through, acceptance and hope, the upward turn, reconstruction/working through, acceptance and hope.

Breaking it down, I found this was way too much to contemplate but for you, dearest Hub reader, I will.  But my own disclaimer is this:  “Our opinions may drastically differ.  One man’s trash is another man’s treasure.”  And my the ever favorite one from Dennis Miller:  “Of course I could be wrong.”

Shock and denial.  Shock is not denial.  Denial is not shock.  Shock leaves you speechless.  Denial puts words in your mouth that sound stupid to everyone but you.  Two things there.  Not one.  I'm still at times in shock.  I'm not in denial.  I know he died.  I tried to save him.  I failed.  EMT's tried to save him.  They failed.  Doctor's could not bring him back.  We all failed.  He died.  I went to the funeral.  I'm not in denial. 

Is it bad if you skip a step?

Pain and guilt.  Again, two things.  Pain can irritate or it can strip your soul from your body.  Guilt is applicable only to the situation of the death and the relationship.  Pain is what I’m feeling, what I hear from other widow(er)s.  The pain of losing the person you love.  That anguish that tears you apart to the point where you can't breathe.  Guilt applies, in my mind, to things like if one believes he or she caused the death, if things got better after their loved one died and they feel guilt at having now what they did not have before, and/or survivor’s guilt of the “it should have been me” variety.  Two things there.

And now we have four.

Anger and bargaining.  Anger at God, anger at doctors, anger at the deceased, anger at well-wishers.  Anger is there and will be there.  It is vastly different from bargaining.  Bargaining is the “I want him or her back” deal; like, "If you let me talk to him one more time, I'll never do anything wrong ever again."  Mine is "Let him be in Heaven right now, happy, at peace, and let him come get me when it's my time to die and I'll never ask for another thing."  Anger and bargaining.  Two things they put under one task.  But it's two things.

Depression/reflection/loneliness.  One, two, three.  It’s three.  Three things they tucked under one job umbrella.  Do it all at once or simultaneously but its three things.  Depression is horrendous work.  I am exhausted from it.  Reflection, not all of us can do it.  I do it in spades.  You've read my previous hubs, rigtht?  I reflect all the time.  Loneliness?  How long is normal?  I plan on being lonely until I can hook up with my husband again.  I know it will not be as intense as right now, but I feel it deeply, that I will always miss him.  I know, I know.  Typical rookie widow mistake you'll say.  But I know what we had bewteen us.  I'll be his forever.  There is no one to stand in that spot beside me but him.

The upward turn.  They explain it only in that things get better.  Physical symptoms cease and the bereaved look forward to a future that appears brighter than it did before.  Okay.  That is only one thing, but it’s not a job you can do.  There is no bale to lift and no row to hoe.  Suddenly, magically, there is an upward turn.  Life improves without your loved one being there.  You experience something that you don’t miss not sharing with him, I guess.  Again, I’m not there yet.  I have no idea how long it will take before I won't want to turn to him to tell him something. 

Reconstruction/working through.  That’s actually one thing.  Or if you’re tired like me you can make it one thing.  Reconstruction is the $2 word for working through.  It sounds more positive, uplifting even.  Reconstruction.  I’m just working.

So what does that make it?  I’m counting ten.  Ten things to accomplish to do to do before I get what, a lovely parting gift?

Acceptance and hope.  Ah, the finale.  Acceptance of his death.  I accept that he has died.  It has become real.  I saw him die.  He was gasping and well, I saw it all.  And I saw him "prepared for being visited."  He was dead.  And I sobbed for hours and hours and was in a walking coma for about two weeks.  But then comes the hope, part two of this one task.  They quantify this hope with you will never be the “carefree, untroubled person you were, but you can move forward.”

But no one tells you where you’ll be.  Somewhere in your life, I suppose but where?  If I’m forever altered and never more to be carefree and untroubled, where am I?  In shock at times when I open a box and something of his I had forgotten about stares me in the face?  Denial that, though I know he died, the is this really happening to me hits me in the face again, and again?  Those flashes of pain that can cripple?  The guilt that might come when I’ve accepted and am experiencing an upward turn?  Will what I feel still be labeled depression when I reflect on him during my lonely times?

I’m not trying to be sarcastic, I’m just saying.  I don’t think anyone really knows what to expect, can predict what we’ll all feel when it’s our turn, or can really categorize and succinctly define grief.  I can't and I've endulged myself in over, oh, I didn't count, maybe over 35 hubs on grief.  I can’t see it set up in a timeline like the model they have for early childhood development.  "By eight months, your baby should be able to........"  Maybe I just can’t see it.  But then, maybe I’m angry.