“Why won’t they grieve the way I do?”
Photo by Bernd 📷 Dittrich on Unsplash
A couple of months ago, one of my husband’s colleagues died very unexpectedly. Let’s call him Joe. When Joe showed up at work on a Thursday no one knew that was his last day at work. He died on a Friday night. An aneurysm ended his life.
Joe’s and my husband’s offices were right next to each other. They bantered, drank coffee together, and traded office gossip.
Joe was a collector of magnets, so whenever my husband traveled overseas he’d bring his colleague a few magnets from that country to add to his collection. Given my husband’s extensive international travels Joe had amassed an impressive magnet collection over the years.
When my husband called me from Detroit where he’d traveled for work and croaked out the words “My magnet man is no more,” I didn’t know what to say. Although I didn’t have a personal connection with Joe, I’d heard enough anecdotes about him.
Joe’s death hit my husband hard.
For the next few weeks my husband was carrying the emotional load of his beloved colleague’s sudden demise. He was visibly sad and had a lost, faraway look. I couldn’t reach him.
When I’m sad it helps me to self-express. I talk, write, and share. But that’s not how everyone processes grief.
In my fifteen years guiding those grieving the death of a loved one, I’ve noticed a common trigger between family members. It has to do with how differently each one grieves.
- My sister won’t talk to me about the loss.
- I know crying will help him, but he just won’t let go.
- It’s like our mother didn’t exist two weeks ago, my family is acting as if life has just moved on.
Every one of these complaints I regularly hear from clients.
When a loved one dies, some of us seek connection through the grieving process. We want to talk, share memories, cry together.
Others withdraw. Get busier than they’ve ever been. Shut down conversations related to the loss. Tell you they don’t want to talk about it.
And that’s when we feel “judgy.” Almost as if we’re saying: my way of grieving is the healthy way. We know we can’t control how someone experiences their grief but it doesn’t stop us from trying.
The best thing I could do for my husband was to simply “companion” him in his grieving process. My natural tendency is to ask questions, affirm, comfort. But not everyone wants that. He certainly didn’t.
- Some days he just wanted me to sit beside him and hold his hand.
- Other days he shared a fond memory about Joe—and simply needed me to listen.
- Shared silence felt healing to him.
- Other times he just wanted to be left alone with his feelings.
Nothing is right or wrong, good or bad. It’s just what each person knows how to do, and finds comfort in.
When you’re grieving, being witnessed feels like an act of love. My grieving clients come to my zoom room for a variety of reasons:
- to cry the tears they’ve held back
- to share tender stories about their deceased beloved
- to let go of the pressure to conform to how culture expects them to grieve
- to give voice to their rage
- to be listened to with zero judgment
- for permission slips
Email me via my website if you or someone you know needs support with grief tending.