I just got back from a few days at the beach. I had a wonderful time, exploring the area, relaxing and swimming in the ocean. As I was chilling on the sandy beach, watching the waves, I thought about how grief is like the ocean.
There’s a beautiful quote by Vicki Harrison: “Grief is like the ocean; it comes on waves, ebbing and flowing. Sometimes the water is calm, and sometimes it is overwhelming. All we can do is learn to swim.”
So true. I had another thought, a little twist on this analogy. To me, there are similarities between the different types of waves with their different intensities as you progress farther into the ocean and my grief experience at various stages.
First Few Weeks After Loss
When you first get your feet wet as the waves come ashore, it’s a new sensation, a very different world. You feel the cold water and the pull of the waves as they come and recede again. You probably feel the sand getting pulled out from under your feet each time the water retreats. The waves, though still gentle, are already powerful, but they pale in comparison to what you’re about to encounter farther into the ocean, The constant swooshing motion might make you feel unsteady or disoriented as you walk in inches of water along the shoreline, trying to get accustomed to the cold water. It reminds me of my experience right after loss. I was thrown into a new world, a cold world of darkness and grief. There certainly was lots of sadness, despair and pain, and I felt like the rug had been pulled out from under me. I thought this was as bad as it gets. But I was still so numb, and I had no idea that the worst pain was yet to come.
Around One or Two Months After Loss
I waded farther into the water, about waist deep. It was a breezy day and the water was quite choppy. The waves were strong and before I knew it, I was knocked down as a wave crashed into me and tossed me around in a brutal whirl of water and sand. The strength of the wave took me by surprise. I had no control and was completely at the mercy of the force of the water. This mirrors my grief experience about a month or two after loss, when the numbness had worn off and the pain and despair got so much worse. Life turned into pure hell. One brutal wave after another knocked me down, swallowing me up in grief and darkness. I never thought anyone could feel such heartache and pain. My heart often literally hurt. This was when I realized that yes, it’s really possible for someone to die from a broken heart.
It Takes Time and Hard (Grief) Work To Get To Calmer Waters
It takes a lot of effort and hard work to move beyond those fierce breaking waves that keep knocking you down. You try to move forward but every time you think you made progress, you get caught in a churning wave again. In my first few years of grief, I felt so many times like I was taking one step forward, two steps back. Grief triggers seemed to be lurking everywhere.
Several Years After Loss
Once I got past the point of where the waves were breaking, the water was a lot calmer. It was pleasant there and I tried to stay in that spot, beyond where the waves were breaking but not too far out either. Like in grief, there will still be waves to look out for, waves that will knock you down again, or perhaps undertow that will pull you too far out to sea. You’ll still have ups and downs. Setbacks. Grief never really ends. But the water will be mostly calm. Life can be livable again. Life can be good again.