First of all, many thanks to my friend, Sherry Walling, for writing this book. For sharing her deeply personal stories. For talking about the hard things (even in funny, lighthearted ways sometimes). But, most of all, for helping to normalize all the parts of grief that we just don’t talk enough about.
Sherry writes in such a grounded, authentic, and conversational tone, that I feel like I’m sitting in her living room with her (both of us with Old Fashioneds in hand) while she fills me in on what’s happened in her life over the last several years. It’s a gut-wrenching journey, but she has this beautiful way of weaving humor throughout to make it all more true-to-life (and more palatable.)
I loved that the book was broken into larger sections that each had a collection of short ‘chapters’ that read more like a series of essays. And the practical tools and exercises she included at the end of each chapter were so topical and approachable that I actually put down the book to do a few of them in the moment (instead of my typical response of waiting until after I’m completely done reading the book and then never really going back to do it.)
It’s kinda weird to say that I was actually excited to read a book about grief, but on my journey to a healthier, more integrated form of grief in my life, this book was perfectly timed for me.
So, here's what I learned from this book (with some quotes I loved mixed in):
1) It’s hard to read when there’s a constant stream of water escaping your eyes. (Related: I should have gotten the box of tissues and a glass of water before I sat down. 🤪)
“I’ve been surprised at how much work grief is. Far more than simple sadness, grief is loud and forceful and dynamic.”
2) My heart can hurt deeply AND I can laugh boisterously at the same time, and both of these things can be completely genuine.
3)”There is no precise GPS for getting through grief. Truth be told, we never arrive on the other side. It is a landscape we live in now.”
4) We never should have done away with black armbands and clothing for those who are grieving. If people knew why I was in such a bad mood, maybe they’d be a little more kind and gentle with me. (And vice versa.)
5) There’s an art to crying in public… and now I just need a good hoodie.
6) The disorientation at the beginning of grief, and the almost obsessive need to put all those memories back in exact order later on, is all normal and part of the process.
7)It’s a universal truth that someone will say something stupid to you while you’re grieving. Period.
8)Memorial services are awkward for all the reasons (and way more reasons than I’d thought of before) and that’s okay because they’re also important to the grieving process. So, just do what you need to in order to get through the day as best you can. Even if that means eating ALL the cookies.
9)The “land mines in my psyche” that currently trigger intense anxiety and very specific, difficult memories for me do not have to be “permanent fixtures in my inner decor.”
Such a relief to know after experiencing the closest thing to a panic attack I’ve ever felt in the middle of a darkened movie theater watching “Top Gun: Maverick” and listening to Val Kilmer cough. The surprise of the instant adrenaline dump, the intense need to flee the theater NOW, the sudden, fast-paced, shallow breathing, heart racing, and then (several moments later) the immediate forced viewing of an unrequested, technicolor memory on my mind's movie screen, entirely overwhelmed my senses to the point of feeling completely disoriented. I had to tell myself to slow my breathing, remind myself I was sitting in a theater with my family, that I was completely safe. The whole experience was totally overwhelming and completely unexpected and very scary. I spent several weeks afterward unpacking that experience bit by bit. Knowing now that doesn’t have to happen every time I hear *that* cough for the rest of my life - and having practical tools for how to address it when it does - has brought incredible relief.
10)“The drive to fight [for the survival of a terminally ill loved one] can keep us from being present to grief, from doing the work of grief.” (For us and for them, too.)
11)Even the little indignities that happen during loss and death deserve their time to be felt, processed, and released.
12)Noticing and later remembering the moments of beauty and even the moments of lightness and levity in the midst of the darkest times are gifts to be cherished as almost sacred.
13)“The Audacity of the Sunrise:
[The sunrise] emerges from darkness with a slow, gentle motion. It seems to respect that the darkness has its place. Its emergence is not aggressive or defiant. Yet it does not for a moment deny itself. It does not apologize for the brilliant display of light and color. For the act of entering into the aliveness of the day.”
14)It’s okay to use a TV show (or anything else) as a “transitional object” to help soothe upset emotions.
15)“It’s impossible to extricate grief and love. They are intertwined like light and shadow and roots and plants. You can’t have one without the other. I am in grief because I was in love.
That is what makes grief a beautiful expression of strength. It is not an enemy. It hurts because it should hurt.”
16)“Poetry is the tapas for the soul. Small bites. Rich with flavor and nourishment.”
17)“Say the names of your lost loved ones. Tell their stories. Speak their truths. Post their photos.
Keep their stories fresh and tended.
Let the lost know that they hold a place within you. Don’t banish them to the shadowy storage room of your mind. Let them be part of you.”
I learned from a close friend years ago that those who are grieving want to hear you use their loved one’s name and want to hear your stories about them, too. Even if it does make them cry.
18)I never learned (or had modeled) how to process grief in a healthy way because of the Evangelical Christianity I grew up in which said, “Don’t cry! They’re in heaven with Jesus now! What a joyous place! And you’ll get to see them again some day!”
Meanwhile, inside my head and heart Sherry’s words have summed up exactly how I was feeling:
“The truth is that heaven doesn’t matter to me right now. It is an unknowable question and, either way, they are inaccessible to me. They are there and I am here. Mentalizing about what they’re doing and where they are doesn’t serve me at this point in the story. It is existentially unknowable and practically inconsequential.”
Now I know that it’s actually okay and normal to mourn and grieve and miss them - even if I did believe that they are “in a better place.” Then it becomes about how I choose to connect with my loved one in a new way. Wherever and whenever I feel closest to their presence and their memory.
19)“The date on the calendar, the cues of the season, the reminders in the external world - all of it triggers a phenomenon of re-experiencing in which the moments of loss play over again, loud and in surround sound, in the movie theater of the mind.”
This is why for 4-5 years after my grandmother's death, January was a depressing month for me, where previously it had been my favorite month of the year. It didn’t make sense to me why I felt so moody, even on years 2, 3, and 4 - why I couldn’t seem to snap out it; couldn’t stop the random, unexplained tears; couldn’t understand the days that felt so grey that I didn’t want to get out of bed.
But, the most intense experience I had of this was on the one year anniversary of a dear friend's passing. In the early morning hours, while I was still half asleep, I took the dog out in the backyard and noticed that I felt heavy and dark. I went back to bed still not knowing why. It wasn’t until I fully woke up a few hours later that my brain processed what the date was. Then I finally understood in my head what my body was already feeling.
20)“Grief is a marker of a beautiful, full life… What if all is us began to embrace grief? What if we stopped treating grief as a weakness to hide or relegate to the margins of a full life, but instead welcomed it as a teacher? As a companion?”
21)Such a beautiful description of integrated grief (and one I feel like I can finally relate to):
“Loss has changed me. And grief is now my companion. And I’m okay.”