Grief is Grief, No Matter How Small

 

Driving down a tree-lined road of Yellowstone National Park, ahead of me two chipmunks were frolicking and playing tag.  As I approached their playground, they darted in front of my path and I felt the lub-dub of a small body beneath my tire. “I killed her best friend!” I screamed to myself in horror.  I couldn’t help personifying the little chipmunks and thus feeling the pain and grief of the solitary chipmunk left in “shock” at the loss of her dear one.  My grief for being the killer of such a happy companionship was intense.  I bawled the rest of the day and at this moment I can still recollect the pain of a love cut short for this little couple.

I was a young woman then, working my way through college as a tour guide in Yellowstone.  In many ways this was my first real bout of grief.  Many years later I would find my third daughter, seven months old, lifeless in her crib.  Eight years after that, my dearest friend passed away unexpectedly as she collapsed, lungs full of blood, into her husbands arms; leaving behind five young children and a hole that could never be filled in my life or theirs. 

Just a few days ago I saw a racoon on the side of the highway, sprawled in a death pose which reflected the violence and pain of the process.  Once again I bawled, chest heaving as I sobbed, in sympathy and sorrow for the tragic scene.

One could surmise that this display of emotion is a sign that I have unresolved grief from bigger losses, after all it was just road-kill… but I know this is not true. Grief is often felt, and expressed, in the same way regardless of the size or personal connection to the source.  I felt real and sincere sorrow at the scene of the chipmunk death every bit as much as my daughter’s passing. When we attribute more ominous meaning to sorrow, calling it unresolved or a sign that someone “really needs help,” we fail to realize this one simple truth: grief is grief, no matter how small.  We also destructively define grief as something harmful, an emotion we should avoid.

I consider myself whole and healed from my deep and personal losses.  I have found purpose in my tragedies and live with hope, yet I frequently cry when I watch news stories of violence, death or abuse.  When I see a lump on the road, I pray it isn’t an animal and feel great relief when it turns out to be a plastic bag in a heap.  Being healed from tragedy and sorrow doesn’t mean that grief never run its course or doesn’t surprise us as an unwelcomed invader.  In some ways, not fearing grief has allowed it to enter my life more frequently.  I can honestly say, however, that there is something refreshing and enlivening to feel, move through and release grief.  The more grief we allow to enter and leave us, the deeper we live and the greater our peace.  That has been my experience.

 

 

 

Melanie Davis
The Triumph Book Author
www.TheTriumphBook.com