As a former genetic counselor, one of the most helpful, honest, and I think, truly generous things I learned to say to my families is "It's okay to grieve the loss of the child and family you thought you'd have." It wasn't just permission to grieve, but an invitation to call what they were experiencing grief, even though they had a living child in front of them. I so appreciate your invitation here, to allow grief to be what it is when it is and to show up how it does, without respect to time or place. It's particularly salient at the holidays, when "happy" seems to be the only appropriate way to be. Thank you, so much, for creating space for those of us who have some other, more complicated feelings at this time of year to let those be present and true as well.
There is no timeline for mourning indeed. Grief isn't something to get through, much less rush through within some arbitrary or self-imposed timeline. I don't ever intend to be done grieving for dear ones no longer here, including beloved pets. I don't even want to be done. Why would I? This doesn't mean I wallow or am stuck in grief. It means I keep learning to weave the losses into my very being. That's what healing means to me, and it's also how I honor those for whom I grieve.
This came at the most divinely inspired time for me. A good friend passed away and I just can’t stop crying. You affirmed that it is ok to cry as long as I need. During this, a lot of past grief was coming up too. I needed this message today. Thank you!
I'm so sorry about the loss of your friend. There is no right way to grieve, and there's no timeline either. I still cry for those I lost, no matter how long ago.
So very well said, Jeannie. When we lost our son to suicide in 2013 the phrase that stabbed my heart and, sometimes, enraged me was “Everything happens for a reason”. In my crippling grief it was hard to hear and imagine that there was a reason or that any good could ever come from such a heart- wrenching loss. I think some people think we are, or should be, “over it” by now (the “time heals” concept) but, of course we aren’t. As you say, the edges are softer and the arrows that pierce your heart, less blunt.
It reminded me of the pain I felt after loss. This year. Past years. It has all come forward.
The platitudes, the pressure to 'move on,' the struggle to find space for my grief amidst the holiday cheer... it was all too familiar. Your words give me (and us) permission to honor our own grief, to let it flow at its own pace, and to find strength in the vulnerability.
I with you Jeannie. Time doesn’t heal, time may help. I heard Andrew Garfield say that he didn’t want to get over his grief losing his mother, because in his grief he was honouring her. He said it better, but it reminded me how maybe we shouldn’t see grief as something to overcome, but maybe something to honour. And yes, it is uncomfortable. But so much of life is. It makes the beautiful moments stand out. I continue to admire you, your family and your approach to life. Big sisterly hugs
Thank you so much for sharing this. It makes me feel validated. I think American society is very uncomfortable with grief and with endings that are not happy. Folks struggle with what to say, and that is when you get those insensitive comments that try to explain, fix, minimize, or dismiss the loss. I'm reminded of the author David Kessler, who writes about grief and runs an online grief support group called Tender Hearts; he often gets asked, "When will someone's grief end?" and his answer is that grief is ongoing, there is no end as long as the loss exists.
Wonderful piece, Jeannie. I'm glad you got to the part where people just don't know what to say. Perhaps because words are simply inadequate. The one phrase I've always thought did a good job was "sorry for your troubles." It didn't promise anything and yet it acknowledged there was pain, extreme pain even. And, inside that phrase somewhere was the another acknowledgement of a kind of solidarity.
I heard so many awful Phrases of Comfort after my multiple miscarriages. Blecch. The best friends were those who offered themselves—one who took my youngest for the day, one who came to just sit with me and introducing me to apple fritters, which to this day are still my favorite!
Saying “God must have had a reason” sounded like “God decided to kill your baby.” Ugh. Just say I’m sorry…
In my experience we do kindness to ourselves when we are with our grief. When we have it. And being with others in their’s, the gift of presence, is also kindness. Platitudes keep us from feeling. Presence with ourselves and others nurtures our very humanity. Thank you Jeannie, for your grace and presence. And for sharing your wisdom. I love this photo of you and Sarah! What a wonderful presence she is!🙏🏼💫🎄
Just what I needed to read this morning. My brother died tragically thirteen years ago, in December. I am going with my parents to put a Winter posy on his grave today. Oh the grief swirling that is going on right now within me. I am acknowledging this and am sitting quietly with my beautiful dog.
You are so right. We will never recover from grief. In a flash we are transported back to painful memories and gnawing shock.
Time helps us to adjust to living with grief but it is a part of us forever.
Thank you for writing this. I hope you and your family have the best Christmas possible.
Jeannie, in the short while I’ve had the privilege of being able to experience your posts I’ve grown to appreciate and respect more and more your honesty and your skill in treating many difficult/uncomfortable subjects. Thank you for providing audio as well as words on the screen. That’s why I used the word “experience” in reference to your essays. The time period from Thanksgiving through New Year’s is such a heavy yoke that we, as humans, have placed on our shoulders. I’m not Scrooge, but I do question whether it might not be better for us to step back and take a look at the disconnect between the expectations and the reality of the holiday season, and seek out contemplation and rest instead of the frenzy that many of us are experiencing. I realize that this might alienate or hurt some of our family members and friends, and it would be especially difficult in a family with small children who don’t understand the complexities of parenthood. My wife and I have no children, and I just don’t know how I’d handle a situation like most families undergo. Your essays have led me down pathways of thinking that I’ve been missing over the years, and this thinking has taught me a lot about myself and other people. Thank you for your courage and hard work in ripping the cover off things that I’ve avoided thinking about for most of my life. In your words I find Jeannie, but often I begin to see the real Rafael as well. To me, the most striking and revealing thing about this post was not in the main essay—it was in the part where you opened up your Substack to contributions from others dealing with resilience in the face of loss and grief. That shows how much charity and unselfishness that you bring to this platform. I recall that quite a while back I said you have the spirit of God. With all love and respect I will also say that you are doing the Lord’s work. Thank you for sharing your story. May you have all blessings and joy throughout all the year, and thank you again for touching many readers with your work. And as always, give your beautiful Sarah that big hug from my wife and me!
“ when we are close to our pain, it can feel as if the wound has been reopened and the experience is fresh, new, I think, though that when we give ourselves what we need in the moment of our grief- in every moment of our grief-the raw exposure of the original wound lessens over time”
I think this is so important in responding to our moments of even, perhaps,
unexpected grief moments. We are respecting a moment of truth in ourselves and what is no longer in our life in the same way as before our loss.
Three months ago a close, precious friend died. She invited me to her death which she knew was close. My life was enlivened by our friendship. She dubbed us as soul sisters as if we were emerging ingenues. I was at a Hallmark Store buying cards a week before Christmas. As I wandered the store I came upon a bracelet that spelled out soul sister. As my breath caught in my throat and my hand cupped the bracelet, for a moment I was going to gift it to her. And then, of course, I remembered. I stood there, everything around me seemed foggy. The sting in my eyes was somewhat relieved by the hot tears forming. It was one of those grief moments that needed respect and expression. It wasn’t the first …and not the last.
Thank you for all your thoughts in the writing. I think you’re right on.♥️
Gosh, this is a wonderful and heartfelt essay. Thank you for sharing your experience so honestly. I am sure many people who are facing grief, and other major life changes, will appreciate your perspective
As a former genetic counselor, one of the most helpful, honest, and I think, truly generous things I learned to say to my families is "It's okay to grieve the loss of the child and family you thought you'd have." It wasn't just permission to grieve, but an invitation to call what they were experiencing grief, even though they had a living child in front of them. I so appreciate your invitation here, to allow grief to be what it is when it is and to show up how it does, without respect to time or place. It's particularly salient at the holidays, when "happy" seems to be the only appropriate way to be. Thank you, so much, for creating space for those of us who have some other, more complicated feelings at this time of year to let those be present and true as well.
Very well put, Jess, and doesn’t Jeannie have a way of helping us to feel more comfortable with the uncomfortable?
She absolutely does. It’s such a gracious invitation to sit wherever we are without judgment or need to move any faster through the uncomfortable.
Hi Jeannie,
There is no timeline for mourning indeed. Grief isn't something to get through, much less rush through within some arbitrary or self-imposed timeline. I don't ever intend to be done grieving for dear ones no longer here, including beloved pets. I don't even want to be done. Why would I? This doesn't mean I wallow or am stuck in grief. It means I keep learning to weave the losses into my very being. That's what healing means to me, and it's also how I honor those for whom I grieve.
This came at the most divinely inspired time for me. A good friend passed away and I just can’t stop crying. You affirmed that it is ok to cry as long as I need. During this, a lot of past grief was coming up too. I needed this message today. Thank you!
Hi Michele,
I'm so sorry about the loss of your friend. There is no right way to grieve, and there's no timeline either. I still cry for those I lost, no matter how long ago.
So very well said, Jeannie. When we lost our son to suicide in 2013 the phrase that stabbed my heart and, sometimes, enraged me was “Everything happens for a reason”. In my crippling grief it was hard to hear and imagine that there was a reason or that any good could ever come from such a heart- wrenching loss. I think some people think we are, or should be, “over it” by now (the “time heals” concept) but, of course we aren’t. As you say, the edges are softer and the arrows that pierce your heart, less blunt.
Wishing you and your family a peaceful holiday 💜
Hi Pam,
I'm very sorry about your son. The grief never ends. I cannot stand the phrase "Everything happens for a reason."
Thank you, Beth.
I’m saddened to hear of your loss, Pam. When describing herself, don’t you feel that Jeannie is describing all of her readers too?
Thank you, Rafael. Jeannie’s words always seem to resonate with me, as I am sure they do to many.
This is such a powerful essay.
It brought tears to my eyes.
It reminded me of the pain I felt after loss. This year. Past years. It has all come forward.
The platitudes, the pressure to 'move on,' the struggle to find space for my grief amidst the holiday cheer... it was all too familiar. Your words give me (and us) permission to honor our own grief, to let it flow at its own pace, and to find strength in the vulnerability.
Thank you for sharing. 🩵
I felt the same Alexander. Thanks for putting it into words.
I with you Jeannie. Time doesn’t heal, time may help. I heard Andrew Garfield say that he didn’t want to get over his grief losing his mother, because in his grief he was honouring her. He said it better, but it reminded me how maybe we shouldn’t see grief as something to overcome, but maybe something to honour. And yes, it is uncomfortable. But so much of life is. It makes the beautiful moments stand out. I continue to admire you, your family and your approach to life. Big sisterly hugs
Healing is a journey, yes, and there is no timeline. Those who have walked the path, or are currently on it, know this to be true.
Thank you so much for sharing this. It makes me feel validated. I think American society is very uncomfortable with grief and with endings that are not happy. Folks struggle with what to say, and that is when you get those insensitive comments that try to explain, fix, minimize, or dismiss the loss. I'm reminded of the author David Kessler, who writes about grief and runs an online grief support group called Tender Hearts; he often gets asked, "When will someone's grief end?" and his answer is that grief is ongoing, there is no end as long as the loss exists.
Wonderful piece, Jeannie. I'm glad you got to the part where people just don't know what to say. Perhaps because words are simply inadequate. The one phrase I've always thought did a good job was "sorry for your troubles." It didn't promise anything and yet it acknowledged there was pain, extreme pain even. And, inside that phrase somewhere was the another acknowledgement of a kind of solidarity.
I heard so many awful Phrases of Comfort after my multiple miscarriages. Blecch. The best friends were those who offered themselves—one who took my youngest for the day, one who came to just sit with me and introducing me to apple fritters, which to this day are still my favorite!
Saying “God must have had a reason” sounded like “God decided to kill your baby.” Ugh. Just say I’m sorry…
In my experience we do kindness to ourselves when we are with our grief. When we have it. And being with others in their’s, the gift of presence, is also kindness. Platitudes keep us from feeling. Presence with ourselves and others nurtures our very humanity. Thank you Jeannie, for your grace and presence. And for sharing your wisdom. I love this photo of you and Sarah! What a wonderful presence she is!🙏🏼💫🎄
Just what I needed to read this morning. My brother died tragically thirteen years ago, in December. I am going with my parents to put a Winter posy on his grave today. Oh the grief swirling that is going on right now within me. I am acknowledging this and am sitting quietly with my beautiful dog.
You are so right. We will never recover from grief. In a flash we are transported back to painful memories and gnawing shock.
Time helps us to adjust to living with grief but it is a part of us forever.
Thank you for writing this. I hope you and your family have the best Christmas possible.
Jeannie, in the short while I’ve had the privilege of being able to experience your posts I’ve grown to appreciate and respect more and more your honesty and your skill in treating many difficult/uncomfortable subjects. Thank you for providing audio as well as words on the screen. That’s why I used the word “experience” in reference to your essays. The time period from Thanksgiving through New Year’s is such a heavy yoke that we, as humans, have placed on our shoulders. I’m not Scrooge, but I do question whether it might not be better for us to step back and take a look at the disconnect between the expectations and the reality of the holiday season, and seek out contemplation and rest instead of the frenzy that many of us are experiencing. I realize that this might alienate or hurt some of our family members and friends, and it would be especially difficult in a family with small children who don’t understand the complexities of parenthood. My wife and I have no children, and I just don’t know how I’d handle a situation like most families undergo. Your essays have led me down pathways of thinking that I’ve been missing over the years, and this thinking has taught me a lot about myself and other people. Thank you for your courage and hard work in ripping the cover off things that I’ve avoided thinking about for most of my life. In your words I find Jeannie, but often I begin to see the real Rafael as well. To me, the most striking and revealing thing about this post was not in the main essay—it was in the part where you opened up your Substack to contributions from others dealing with resilience in the face of loss and grief. That shows how much charity and unselfishness that you bring to this platform. I recall that quite a while back I said you have the spirit of God. With all love and respect I will also say that you are doing the Lord’s work. Thank you for sharing your story. May you have all blessings and joy throughout all the year, and thank you again for touching many readers with your work. And as always, give your beautiful Sarah that big hug from my wife and me!
In the meanwhile, thought you might appreciate this talk: https://www.ted.com/talks/nora_mcinerny_we_don_t_move_on_from_grief_we_move_forward_with_it?subtitle=en
Jeannie, your thought,
“ when we are close to our pain, it can feel as if the wound has been reopened and the experience is fresh, new, I think, though that when we give ourselves what we need in the moment of our grief- in every moment of our grief-the raw exposure of the original wound lessens over time”
I think this is so important in responding to our moments of even, perhaps,
unexpected grief moments. We are respecting a moment of truth in ourselves and what is no longer in our life in the same way as before our loss.
Three months ago a close, precious friend died. She invited me to her death which she knew was close. My life was enlivened by our friendship. She dubbed us as soul sisters as if we were emerging ingenues. I was at a Hallmark Store buying cards a week before Christmas. As I wandered the store I came upon a bracelet that spelled out soul sister. As my breath caught in my throat and my hand cupped the bracelet, for a moment I was going to gift it to her. And then, of course, I remembered. I stood there, everything around me seemed foggy. The sting in my eyes was somewhat relieved by the hot tears forming. It was one of those grief moments that needed respect and expression. It wasn’t the first …and not the last.
Thank you for all your thoughts in the writing. I think you’re right on.♥️
Gosh, this is a wonderful and heartfelt essay. Thank you for sharing your experience so honestly. I am sure many people who are facing grief, and other major life changes, will appreciate your perspective