The character of all-abiding sorrow in grief

Photo by Benedicto de Jesus on Unsplash

ONLY 24-hours ago my family learned we had lost a dear member — my Uncle. He was a man full of humour no matter how hard life was. There is so much about him that could be written. A small article like this cannot do justice to his memory.

What is strange, however, is that while he was alive I made minimal effort to see him; only twice in the past year, both because I knew he wasn’t far from death.

Over the years of our adult lives, like with most extended family, we learn to live without each other. Life is busy, and our immediate families and friendships get priority.

So why is it that when I’m honest I’m full of an all-abiding won’t-let-go sorrow? It appears to me to be simple.

He is gone. Gone is he.

GONE. NO MORE. HISTORY.

It’s too late to visit, to chat, to draw from his wisdom, to enjoy his quirky humour, to experience him in the flesh.

That is the nature of loss. It’s so final. It leaves us nowhere, if not numb, for the reality we cannot change and cannot yet accept.

There is but one plausible emotion if we’re honest. We have to be full of gut-wrenching sorrow. Not that we like it. We hate to suffer, but we also hate it that history cannot be reversed. And we hate it that we feel foreign to life suddenly. People are getting on with their lives with no idea what we’re going through. And there’s nothing we can do to change it or stop it.

My response to my Uncle’s passing isn’t steeped in depths of grief. In many ways his passing is a relief for him and the family. But if loss reminds me of anything it is this: we’re never truly prepared for it.

It’s only when our loved ones are gone forever that we truly miss them with an ache that lingers. Time helps us to accept the new normal, but time cannot bring them back.

Thankfully we’re helped as we join communities that assist us cope with our grief — that transport us into new ways of coping — that validate us in our all-abiding sorrow; the by-product of loss.