Life, Loss and processing Grief
A message to an old friend
An open letter to my best friend.
When words fail, all one can say is I’m so sorry for your loss. May his memory be a blessing. Heartfelt words given to love ones in times of loss and grief. When bad things happen, it has long been part of the human spirit to search for answers and meaning.
This goes all the way back to the earliest times when we had no understanding of our physical world and everything seemed mystical. A severe storm event seemed like nature itself had become angry when we had no understanding of weather. This need to make sense of why bad things happen and understanding loss is deeply ingrained into our psyche. Thousands of years of ancient stories, passed down in oral tradition, all to help explain the random cruelty of nature and existence. It validated that pain was universal and all too common. Simply the cruel reality of being.
When man moved away from polytheism to monotheism it created a powerful psychological trade-off. It offered great comfort by promising that the universe wasn’t just an uncaring void. A change that would alter our perception of the randomness of nature simply by placing everything under a single supreme god. Bringing with it order from chaos.
Human psychology then shifted deeply inward but also introduced the burden of wondering why great tragedy happens, leading us to internalize blame for these events. With it, guilt. Questions of could I have done more or should I have been more present? In our grief, we often forget forgiveness. We are often able to forgive others. It is also important to forgive ourselves.
Where you land all depends on how you are oriented. The nature of the world or the deterministic will of a greater power. Both were designed to give comfort and meaning, just in very different ways.
My father lost his mom at 5 years of age. He barely remembered her but carried the loss his entire life. His faith was that one day he would be rejoined with his mother. It provided him great comfort right up to the day he died.
You asked me for my opinion. What do I believe? Well, it really matters not, at least in a useful sense. I told you that hard truths are hard to pin down. Is there a heaven? Will I see my father there? What matters most for anyone is where you find comfort from the harsh realities of life. My dad’s faith gave him that. It is of little consequence what is truth, other than his belief gave him comfort.
I fall into the middle somewhere. I am neither believer or non-believer. I simply don’t have the kind of faith that I can truly pin as the truth. I admire those that can and respect those that don’t. Strictly my opinion, my truth is somewhere in between these two views of reality.
May you find comfort and peace my dear friend.