When I began the journey of grieving in December 2012, grief flooded my world like a tidal wave. It arrived suddenly, related to my mom’s 30-day diagnosis-to-death timeframe. It overwhelmed me. It was unforgiving in every way.
Grief crashed into the structures I’d carefully erected in my faith, shifted the way I interacted with others, and even distorted how I viewed the world for quite some time. And in the wake of my life being uprooted, my natural instinct was to do what I’d always done … power through it all and “be strong.” Frankly, that’s what many family members and friends said I should do.
What I didn’t realize then, however, was that the true path to healthy grieving wasn’t hardening, but softening.
I’ll be the first to say that embracing this perspective didn’t come easy. But I gradually began to realize that softening didn’t mean becoming passive or disregarding the painful realities associated with loss. On the contrary, it served as an invitation for me to widen the lens and create space for my humanity. It afforded me the opportunity to approach myself with more tenderness than in times past. Softening helped me not only walk through the valley of my grief, but also transform in the midst of it.
My friend, grief demands a shift in the way we see things.
Whether via the death of a loved one, the unraveling of a relationship, or the stripping away of hopes and expectations in life, our inner world changes. It’s not uncommon for the narratives we once relied on – about how life is supposed to work or the way people should be or what’s fair and unfair – to disintegrate before our very eyes. For me, grief had a way of dismantling everything I thought I knew and replacing certainty with a massive fog.
I can recall moments early in my grief journey that I attempted to make sense of it all, as if that were even possible. I found myself working to manage grief, as if it could be neatly shapeshifted to fit into neat and tidy life containers. The very day my mom called to share the news of her stage IV pancreatic cancer diagnosis, I instantly began searching for solutions in my mind. But we know grief isn’t tameable and doesn’t follow any rules. It’s not a problem to be solved, no matter how perplexing the process feels.
Softening my perspective about grief meant releasing expectations about the journey as a whole. For example, I recognized the need to stop asking how long grieving should last, what emotions were ‘good’ or bad,’ or how I could make lemonade out of the lemons I’d been handed out of nowhere.
As a matter of fact, one of the best things my psychologist shared with me following my mom’s death was how important it was to redefine strength. As a ‘strong Black woman,’ this felt impossible. However, with her encouragement and support, I began to see that the most courageous thing I could do was to allow myself to feel broken. One of my favorite quotes is from Toni Collier, a Christian speaker and author, which says: “Broken crayons still color.”
Our lives can still reflect a beautiful mosaic of experiences, grief included.
At the core of a softened perspective as a grieving heart is self-compassion … that is, extending the grace you extend to others towards yourself. Forgiving what did and didn’t happen. Releasing impossible standards. Embracing your process without comparison to others. Think about it. What if we chose to meet ourselves with kindness rather than self-criticism as we grieved? What if we gave ourselves permission to breathe or not suppress our thoughts and feelings? What if we softened our inner dialogue in order for transformation to take root?
Nearly 13 years into the grief journey – with the deaths of my mom, sweet Beagle, and dad a difficult reality, I understand that grieving isn’t a sign of weakness, but of love. My relationships with each of them deeply matter to me, and that will never die.
Where are you on the continuum from hardening to softening?
I invite you to consider how you might swing the pendulum towards softness, making room for diverse expressions of sorrow and joy. Perhaps you might …
Loosen your grip on the idea that there’s a “right” way to grieve. While many of us live in a Westernized world that conditions us to view grief as something to pass through in tidy stages, our lived experiences with grief tell us otherwise.
Allow yourself to come undone. Remain open to laughter and joy, as well as the ache you don’t see coming, knowing that you can hold varying truths at the same time.
Explore the role of spirituality and faith along the journey. For many, myself included, grief ushered in a spiritual reckoning, challenging understandings of God, justice, and even purpose. Know that’s OK and allow softening to make room for questions, doubts, and lament. Further, trust that while things may not be resolved, they still deserve to be held.
I never imagined I’d be writing about soft living after approaching life in such a determined and hard way. But grief cracked me open to parts of myself I’d never known. It welcomed me in and beckoned me to slow down, be still, seek God, and honor my deepest unspoken needs. Grief encouraged me to befriend, as opposed to battle, it … helping me tend to my heart with curiosity vs. condemnation.
Ultimately, my friend, softening our perspective isn’t about ignoring grief. No, it’s about choosing to live life in a gentler way, even when life feels harsh. Recognizing the suffering we add to our lives when we decide to power through and “be strong.”
Consider what it might look like to soften today. Perhaps you breathe a little slower. Or simply unclench your fists. Maybe you whisper to yourself, “I’m allowed to feel all of this.”
As you soften, I believe you’ll learn to walk alongside grief differently … with more grace, compassion, and yes, even more love.
Remember … broken crayons still color.
xo, Mekel