Megan Devine offers a profound new approach to both the experience of grief and the way we help others who have endured tragedy. Having experienced grief from both sides--as both a therapist and as a woman who witnessed the accidental drowning of her beloved partner--Megan writes with deep insight about the unspoken truths of loss, love, and healing. She debunks the culturally prescribed goal of returning to a normal, "happy" life, replacing it with a far healthier middle path, one that invites us to build a life alongside grief rather than seeking to overcome it.
August marks the sixth month since my dad died. It still feels weird and unsettling to write that or to try and process the finality that he's gone. I don't remember the last words he said to me, I don't know what he was thinking when he was rushed to the hospital, I don't know whether he heard us at his bedside or if his spirit was even present during those excruciating final days. But in the thick of all the unknowns and devastating void he leaves behind, I know that that's OK. Be it by choice or through circumstances beyond my control, I have grown adept at accepting uncertainty and the dark times and giving myself the permission to lean into my grief and loss and let the weight of the pain of losing someone so near and dear to me roll into and over me, like a large wave at high tide.
The more I contemplate death and loss, the more I am certain that most of life is really just a long, persistent practice of grief management. Some of us are better at it than others. There are those who are taught Devine's title wisdom that it's OK to not be OK all the time and there are those who are sadly taught something contrary, that it's better to stuff your grief than face it, to deny it's presence rather than embrace it. While I appreciate anybody willing to ask and check-in with how I'm doing, there are some things that are said that aren't super helpful or that leave a bitter taste in my mouth. I don't hold those things against people, but as Devine lays out in her book, the culture most of us live in simply doesn't truly understand what people are up against in the ongoing journey of grief.
"We think "happy" is the equivalent of "healthy." As though happiness were the baseline, the norm to which all things settle, when we're living as we should...Our medical model calls grief that lasts longer than six months a "disorder," perpetuating the idea that you should be back to normal as soon as possible. Getting out of grief is the goal. You have to do it correctly, and you have to do it fast. If you don't progress correctly, you are failing at grief. Despite what many "experts" believe, there are no stages of grief...Medicalizing--and pathologizing--a healthy, normal, sane response to loss is ridiculous, and it does no one any good."
I really appreciate Devine's honest, tell-it-like-it-is confessional approach to grief. As someone intimate with tragedy as well as someone who has counseled people from the other side, she brings a level of credibility that is rare in the self-help genre. Describing her own journey will put anyone on the losing side of a loved one's death in good company. She gets it. She knows. And she doesn't sugar coat anything--this isn't a book about resilience or whatever doesn't kill you makes you stronger, this is an unflinching account of someone who has crawled through a mile long tunnel of excrement and still smells like it. That may not sound too appealing, but that is exactly the point. Grief isn't something to be overcome, it's something to walk alongside.
"Grieving people are met with impatience precisely because they are failing the cultural storyline of overcoming adversity. If you don't "transform," if you don't find something beautiful inside this, you've failed...As a culture, we don't want to hear that there are things that can't be fixed. As a culture, we don't want to hear that there is some pain that never gets redeemed. Some things we learn to live with, and that's not the same as everything working out in the end. No matter how many rainbows and butterflies you stick into the narrative, some stories just don't work out."
"Honestly, I think this is why the Harry Potter books were so wildly successful. They were dark. J.K. Rowling dove into that darkness, never once making it syrupy or pretty or sweet. Things did not turn out OK in the end, even though there was beauty in the end. Loss, pain, and grief all existed in that world, and they were never redeemed. They were carried."
Six months into this deep, dark pit of despair of having my dad ripped out of this life without warning and I am still carrying the shitty new normal his empty chair has created for me and my family. I'm not as happy as I was before. I am not stronger or more resilient or finding the silver lining in his death. I just simply am who I am: a grieving son and man coping with loss the best that he can. I don't apologize when I weep or have down days or possess envy of others whose parents are still alive or who were given a second chance my dad never got. In short, grief sucks. It really, really sucks but, that said, it's not something I want to avoid. It's worth leaning into, but holy crap, it is super difficult to do so. Thank goodness for friends and family whom bravely and lovingly choose to help carry the load.
Wherever or however this finds you, if you're grieving and need something to help frame or reframe what you are experiencing, I highly recommend this book. I like what Donna Schuurman, the senior director of advocacy and training at the Dougy Center for Grieving Children and Families wrote about Devine's work: "Megan Devine has captured the grief experience: grief is not a problem to be solved, but a mystery to be honored."
"If we're going to change things, if we're going to create new, valid, realistic, and useful storylines to live into, we have to start by refusing the happy ending. Or maybe, by redefining what a happy ending is. A happy ending inside grief like yours cannot be a simple 'everything worked out for the best.' That ending isn't even possible."
Owl Photo by Frida Bredesen on Unsplash
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