The Center for Grief Recovery and Creativity: Reflections

The Center for Grief Recovery and Creativity (the Center) is a counseling center located at 1263 W. Loyola Chicago, IL 60626. You can find us on the web at www.griefcounselor.org. We are the place for people to go who are experiencing intense emotional experiences. Our licensed professionals are compassionate and skilled. Find us here at our website.

Saturday, December 01, 2007

Finality

Our experience of grief is a natural healing process. In order for it to begin its healing we must be willing to learn to tolerate a wide range of intense emotions. This Wordsworth poem captures the breadth and depth of emotions emanating from grief. We hear how the poet moves, sometimes plummets from joy to deep sorrow in recognition of his loss. Recognition of the finality of death is perhaps the hardest part of the grieving process. Our denial system begins to dissipate and the reality of impermanence moves into high relief. We are pinned down by the sheer concrete reality that our loved one is gone. Perhaps the most salient and lasting dimension of the grief process is our yearning to be reconnected with our loved one. Yet, as we do learn to tolerate these powerful emotions, we find that they come and go as waves on the ocean. And we can bring ourselves to experience—with growing compassion for ourselves—the most painful emotions. Thus, as the initial necessary numbness of grief wears off and the finality of loss emerges, we may notice that our memories flow more freely. We find the memories to be alive and dynamic. Perhaps this points a way for us to begin to transform our relationship to the deceased. We can begin to contact the part of our loved one we still have inside of us. This need not be a religious or spiritual connection, but simply a powerful emotional one.

Wordsworth

SURPRISED by joy — impatient as the Wind
I turned to share the transport — Oh! with whom
But Thee, deep buried in the silent tomb,
That spot which no vicissitude can find?
Love, faithful love, recalled thee to my mind —
But how could I forget thee? Through what power,
Even for the least division of an hour,
Have I been so beguiled as to be blind
To my most grievous loss?--That thought's return
Was the worst pang that sorrow ever bore,
Save one, one only, when I stood forlorn,
Knowing my heart's best treasure was no more;
That neither present time, nor years unborn
Could to my sight that heavenly face restore.