Why is grief so uncomfortable to talk about?
Photo of a rose bush Amanda planted in memory of her mother. Look at the heart on the leaf!
I lost my mom when she was only 59 years old. She was too young to leave this world, and I was too young to lose her. There were months and months filled with crippling pain, the kind that completely takes your breath away. I would wake up and realize all over again that my mom was gone forever. I would never be able to ask for her advice, share exciting moments, listen to her stories, or hear her voice and the sound of her laugh. So many milestones were yet to happen in my and her grandkid's lives, and she wouldn’t be here for any of them.
In the early days, it's bizarre how your world comes to a complete standstill, yet everyone around you carries on with their lives. It's difficult to describe the feeling of seeing people go about their daily routines, watching the seasons change, and meanwhile you are scared to move forward from the last time the person you lost was still here. It almost feels like trying to return to your ‘normal life’ will push the memories further away. And the idea of forgetting them is terrifying.
I quickly learned how uncomfortable grief makes people feel. When I talked about my mom, I often saw the body language of those in the room oozing their discomfort. They would avoid eye contact, stare at the floor, or quickly change the subject. I could see my sadness was something others didn’t know how to talk about. Maybe it was that they didn’t know what to say to me, that my pain reminded them of their grief, or possibly, that they realized they too would lose their mom one day like me. I get it. Death, heartache, and the complexity of grief are all hard to understand, especially if you've never experienced it yourself. Of course, people don’t know what to do when someone is heartbroken and the only person who could fix it is no longer here.
What I couldn’t say during those moments, that I want to share now, is that just sitting with us in our pain is enough. You don't have to understand our heartbreak or try to fix it. There will be plenty of times when you don’t know what to say, and that’s okay; silence is not something you need to fill. During the early days of my grief, I can’t recall who said what, but I can vividly remember who offered their support and who just sat with me during that time.
The reality is: talking about our grief can also help us in our journey. The ability to discuss our grief openly and honestly without feeling like we’re making others uncomfortable can be incredibly beneficial. On the flip side, knowing that people are avoiding you because your grief makes them uncomfortable adds to the isolation and pain you are already experiencing. When I talk about my mom, it isn't with the expectation that I get a reply. I talk about her to keep her memory alive, and because the fear that she will be forgotten is real. No matter how much time passes, she'll always be my mom, even though she’s no longer physically here with me.
Here's my perspective on grief as someone who continues through the journey: It doesn’t matter your background, beliefs, or lifestyle; every single one of us will eventually face our mortality. It’s also a guarantee that grief will touch every single one of us in some way, shape or form throughout our lives. Whether it's the loss of a loved one, a pet, or struggles with our health, the list of things to grieve is endless.
Yet, despite its universal reach, and the fact that mortality and loss are something we all have in common, grief is still so uncomfortable to talk about. I’ve written this blog as a step towards helping to make it less so. I would love to see people work together to create a more open and accepting dialogue about grief, for it to be viewed as the normal and healthy part of life that it is.
