A Journey Through Loss and Longing
It’s been almost three months since my mom passed away from cancer and I’m only just beginning to grasp the magnitude of her loss. So much of her life is infused into the objects around me, all poignant reminders of a love that feels irreplaceable and hauntingly absent. I now find myself crying all the time, each tear a cathartic release carrying a memory or a regret. Some days, I feel exhausted and overwhelmed by my emotions, but I am glad to be at the point of grief where I can acknowledge what has happened and really just miss my mom.
For a while after she passed away, I didn’t feel this sadness. I arrived home from work only moments after she had died (which is something I think about often) and the first comprehensible emotion I felt was relief.
Long before my mom passed away, I also had anticipated her passing, and this left me feeling guilty because, although I didn’t want to imagine my mom’s death, I’d catch myself thinking about it a lot as I watched her manage her diagnosis. I think these emotions are the uglier, less spoken-about sides of grief because they expose our emotional complexity.
Grief is often described as involving five stages:
Denial, or a feeling of numbness or incomprehensibility towards the loss.
Anger, or feeling that the loss is unfair.
Bargaining, or feeling regretful about what you never got to do together, or feeling hopeful that they may return.
Depression, or feeling hopeless, upset, heartbroken, or stuck (the stage I’d describe myself as currently in).
Acceptance, feeling at peace with the loss.
Importantly, these stages aren’t experienced linearly. Everyone experiences grief differently, reaching different stages at different times, and in various orders. Often, the intensity of each stage is determined by the loss, what the person meant to you, how the bereavement occurred, and what options were available at the time to process the grief. For example, some people who lost relatives during the COVID-19 lockdowns have described the difficulty they had with the grieving process, by not having the opportunities to say goodbye to their loved ones, attend funeral services, or connect with family members and friends. The experience of grief is different with every bereavement.
There are other, less spoken about, emotions not listed in the five key stages of grief that are still very much associated with bereavement. These include feeling confused or disorientated as you try to understand who you are without this person. Also, relief, perhaps because the person was living in pain. Relief that my mom had died at home and in as little pain as possible: her only two wishes. Relief that my mom would no longer be in distress, and relief that I would no longer have to watch her be in pain.
There’s an analogy made about grief, by Lois Tonkin, in her paper Growing Around Grief, which considers how the feeling of grief and loss doesn’t get smaller but rather feels smaller as we continue to live and grow around it. The phrase "the hole grief leaves doesn't go away, we just grow" means that when someone experiences a significant loss, the grief they feel creates a lasting "hole" in their life that never fully heals, but over time, they can learn to live around that pain and continue to grow as a person, incorporating the loss into their life without letting it define them.
I find this a comforting way of looking at grief because it acknowledges how impactful connection and loss are in shaping who we become. It seems that throughout history, humankind has grappled with the reality of mortality, often seeking ways to extend life or avoid the pain of loss. This struggle reflects our deep desire to hold on to what we love. However, in my own journey, I’m finding it comforting to accept that change is the only certainty, and death is the one guarantee we have in life. Embracing this truth allows me to honour my connections while also recognising the natural cycle of life and loss. Right now, I really feel the gaping hole in my life from the loss of my mom, but I understand that this hole will be part of me for the rest of my life and I can celebrate my mom’s life and carry her spirit with me in the things I do.
Building on the discussion of bereavement, it's important to recognise that grief can also manifest before a loss occurs, known as anticipatory grief. This form of grief often brings a different set of emotions, as we grapple with the reality of impending loss and the anxiety that comes with it. It allows us to process our feelings and prepare ourselves for the inevitable, highlighting the deep connections we hold with our loved ones even before they are gone. When my mom received her terminal cancer diagnosis, I felt confronted with the immanence of my mom’s passing. The National Cancer Institute lists this among some of the common symptoms of anticipatory grief:
Depression
Heightened concern for the ill person
Rehearsal of the loved one’s end-of-life
Attempts to adjust to the consequences of the loved one’s end of life
Anxiety and worry
Increased irritability
Mourning changes in the loved one’s personality or physical appearance
When my mom's vocal cords were damaged by cancer, it felt like I lost a part of her that was truly special. She had a beautiful singing voice that brought so much joy, and not being able to hear her sing anymore was something I struggled with. I missed her voice in a way that is beyond description. Being quite stoic in her worldview, my mom told me that whilst she missed being able to sing, this was the universe’s way of telling her to listen more.
I think about this often: how my mom found wisdom and lessons in the adversity and hardship she faced.
Seeing parts of her infused in my own personality reminds me of an aphorism by global spiritualist leader and peace activist, Thich Nhat Hanh. He asks us to think about clouds, and how clouds are impermanent, but the essence of the cloud remains when it turns to rain, and the rain drains into a river, which runs into the sea. This beautifully illustrates how loss does not mean erasure; the person’s essence is simply taking a new form, carried by the people they knew.