Learning to mourn — and to let go

The sound of her
Silk skirt has stopped.
On the marble pavement dust grows.
Her empty room is cold and still.
Fallen leaves are piled against the doors.
Longing for that lovely lady
How can I bring my
Aching heart to rest?

That short verse written by Han Wu Ti (187-57 B.C.) on the death of his mistress expresses exactly the same longing I feel for my mother, Remedios, who died a year ago today. One year has slipped by so fast that I hardly noticed its passing. Why, my tears haven’t even dried yet, the lump remains in my throat and the ache continues to gnaw at my heart.

No, I haven’t gotten used to my mom’s absence. When she was around, every nook and cranny of the house was full of her. Now, even during an SRO occasion like a birthday party, the house feels so empty with her absence. I don’t think the void created by my mom’s departure will ever be filled, not even by the beautiful memories of her that we treasure like porcelain.

By the time you’re reading this, we brothers and sisters should be in Las Navas, Northern Samar, offering a Mass for our mom to observe her first death anniversary. Her remains, as per her request, were buried with the bones of our father, Vicente/Chaga (who died 37 years ago) at the Las Navas Municipal Cemetery. It’s our babang-luksa, all right, but it doesn’t mean that we will stop mourning for our mom. I tell you, the grieving takes a lifetime.

During my own grieving process (very heart-rending as those who have lost a loved one should know), I read how-to-cope books and articles which have helped me a lot in understanding our great loss and in accepting the painful reality that, yes, our mom had said goodbye for good.

One such article is entitled Learn to Mourn from the book You Can’t Afford the Luxury of a Negative Thought by Peter Williams, given to me by my New York-based friend Raoul Tidalgo who himself lost his father two years ago. I’m sharing that piece, with the Han Wu Ti verse I quoted above as opener, with my friends and Funfare readers who are also, well, "trying to cope." Here it is:

This is a lifetime of goodbyes. As the years go on, you’ll say goodbye to both people (through moving, change or death) and things (youth, that semi-tight body you once had, hair, prized possessions). Eventually, you’ll say goodbye to it all with your own death.

Learning to mourn, to grieve, to say a good goodbye, is an invaluable tool.

When a loss takes place, the mind, body and emotions go through a process of healing as natural as the healing of a physical injury. Know that feeling lost, sad, angry, hurt, fearful, and tearful at goodbyes is a natural part of the healing process.

We recover from loss in three distinct but overlapping phases. The first phase of recovery is shock/denial/numbness; the second, fear/anger/depression; the third, understanding/acceptance/moving on.

No matter what the loss – from a missed phone call to the death of a loved one – the body goes through the same three phases of recovery. The only difference is the time it takes to go through each stage and the intensity of the feelings at each point along the way.

When we first hear of a loss, our initial reaction is shock/denial/numbness. Often we say, "Oh, no!" We can’t believe what we’ve heard. We go numb.

This ability to deny and go numb is a blessing. Catastrophic losses are too hard to take all at once. It has been suggested that the reason some people have slow, terminal illnesses as their method of dying is because it’s going to take them a long time to say goodbye, and they want to do it right.

The next phase, fear/anger/depression, is the one most commonly associated with loss. We think we’ll never love or be loved again (fear). We wail against the situations, people, things and unkind fates that "caused" the loss (anger). We cry, we feel sad, we hurt, we don’t want to go on (depression).

One of the toughest feelings to accept is anger at the one who is dying (even if it’s yourself). "Why are you leaving me?!" a voice inside wants to know. To feel angry at someone for dying, or angry at yourself over your own death, is perfectly normal.

It’s a natural stage of recovery that one must pass through. (Pass through – not remain in.)

Finally we come to understanding/acceptance/moving on.

We understand that loss is part of life. We accept the loss we suffered, and begin to heal. When healing is well under way, we move on to our next experiences.

I put this information on grieving in the section "Act-centuate the Positive" because mourning is a positive human ability. It allows us the flexibility to adapt to change. It is not "negative" to feel pain, fear, and anger at loss. It’s a natural, human response. The negativity enters when the process of healing is suppressed, glossed over, and denied.

Accept the process. Accept the numbness, the fear; the pain, the anger, the sadness, the tears, and, eventually, accept the healing.

Accepting the healing can be difficult. People may expect you to mourn longer than you find necessary, or they may want your mourning to "hurry up." People often offer comfort to ease their own discomfort. "There, there," they say, "everything’s all right," when, in fact, everything is not all right.

Grieving must be done in its own time.

(E-mail reactions at [email protected])