Grief and My Girl

“You wanted to see me?” Grief sounded intrigued.
“Yeah,” I replied hesitantly, not sure if I should have called the meeting or not but, I knew that problems were generally better talked about so here we were.
“How is she?” Grief interrupted my deliberating.
“You know?” I exclaimed, surprised.
“Yes,” he smiled. “The gerbils!”
“Of course you know.” I laughed at my own naivety.
“So?” he questioned.
“Yeah, she’s not great.” I sighed. “She’s always internalised so much, but ever since Boo died she’s worried more, she becomes quiet and distant and then she’ll admit she’s worried, scared that her grandparents will die, that I will, her dad…
Grief looked saddened but not surprised, “I know, that’s…”
“Normal?” I finished his sentence.
“Well, I’m not keen on that word but if by that you mean she’s experiencing a reaction to death or loss that is often felt, then yes,” he clarified.
“But it’s more than that, it seems that now something good has happened her fear is heightened, she’s really worried that the gerbils will die too.” It sounded crazy as I said it out loud but the intensity of her emotions had taken me by surprise and I was desperate to help her.
“Hmmm, that’s hard,” it was Griefs turn to sigh.
“Yes I know, I can’t promise her they won’t die. I’ve tried gently explaining that they are going to die one day, six months, six years, I’m not really sure how long gerbils live, anyway, we talked about her two options, that she can spend from now until they do die worried and sad, and then say goodbye or she can enjoy the next six years, playing, laughing, sharing life with them. They will still die either way, but well, one option kind of makes more sense.” I looked at him hoping for some reassurance I’d said the right thing.
“How did that go?” Grief was genuinely interested.
“Yeah, well, she got the theory.”
“But?” Grief sensed the tone.
“But in reality it’s not that simple, she’s scared. Scared to really love in case she gets hurt again.” I looked at Grief.

“She’s grieving.” Grief stated the seemingly obvious.
“Yes, that’s why I needed to talk to you.” I was hopeful Grief might be able to offer some wisdom. “We had a conversation once about you being a kind of container for many emotions?” I reminded him.
“Yep, and fear is one of those, sadness, confusion…” he listed.
“There have been elements of all of those this week.” I murmured, helplessly.
“There’s a more complex emotion too, though” Grief continued…
“Ok?” Now I was intrigued

“Foreboding Joy, it’s a kind of fear of events that that haven’t happened yet or don’t even exist, and it inhibits any ability to live with hope and true joy,” he explained.
“That makes sense, that’s it, that’s what she’s battling.” My mind was replaying the conversations we’d had during the week, her fear of them dying, her tears because she didn’t know if she could really enjoy them. “How do I help her?” I asked after a few moments.
“Ok, let’s go back, you talked about two options, feeling happy or feeling sad?” he asked.
“Yeah, until they die?” I checked to see if we were talking about the same thing.
“Yes, well, what if there are more than two options?” He could see I was interested now. “What if it isn’t an either/or…what if she doesn’t have to just be happy or just be sad.”
“What do you mean?” I really was interested.
“Maybe it’s important to find a way to allow both to be, to allow the pain of that foreboding joy while teaching her to recognise it for what it is, to call it out as a lie and then…”
“And then?” his ‘and then’ sounded promising,
“Practice gratitude…” Grief grinned as though it as all so simple.

“Gratitude.” I repeated, letting the word sink in.
“That will take courage, that will still mean there are tears but that’s OK, death isn’t a nice thought so acknowledge it as often as you need to but try to give her the tools to not dwell there too long. Talk to her about death, then talk to her about
what she is grateful for, celebrate as much as you can. Equip her to cope in a world with pain, not just try to make the pain go away or pretend its OK when it isn’t. She’ll need your help, and, well, you might just find she helps you.” He winked.
“I imagine that will be the case.” I smiled back. I liked that I could explore all this safely with Grief and that he didn’t judge me, he simply allowed me to be me and together we could keep simply taking the next step.

By Deb Bridges (Director, Writer and Life Coach for Prodigal Collective)