How Exploring Mortality, Love, and Grief to Leads to Poignant and Profound Insights

Image by Roland Steinmann from Pixabay

When confronted with death, it always brings life into sharper focus I find. This time of year for me is traditionally one where memories of life and death meet together in great contrast. It’s the time when both my children were born, and the memories and circumstances of their births are always recalled in detail. But it’s also the time when my mum was in the final weeks of her life and the reliving of that time coexists alongside the happier memories.

I was listening to a podcast with one of the most celebrated and influential spoken word poets of our time, Andrea Gibson, on facing mortality. When Andrea was diagnosed with an aggressive form of ovarian cancer, all that was truly important in their life became all that was important, they stopped dwelling on the ifs, buts and maybes.

Their journey has been profound and transformative. Facing a fierce cancer diagnosis (that they had lived in fear of all their life due to family history), they describe a radical shift in perspective post investigative surgery. Andrea had spent her life in fear of dying and it has taken staring death in the face to really live.

Their worst fear had become real but, instead of fear, they felt a sudden acceptance and peace. The experience altered their perception of life and relationships, and fostered a deep appreciation and love for those around them. This newfound outlook led them to believe that every life event, even cancer or death, was part of their spiritual evolution. They found peace in surrendering to life's challenges, discovering that saying "yes" to difficulty could open doors to immense joy.

They learned to relax, give, focus on the present, and approach relationships with a sense of mystery, allowing the people closest to them to show up anew without past expectations. Additionally, they embraced things that had previously terrified them as a way to confront and overcome fear. Despite the possibility of imminent death, they express profound peace, happiness, clarity, and gratitude for life itself.

I also appreciated her saying “Sometimes people can navigate an illness like this with a lot of rage, for example. I don’t think that my way is necessarily better than that, because I’ve had plenty of rage in my life. Maybe that other person didn’t ever express anger or feel rage, and that could be the waking up for another individual.”

A good friend of mine also lost a close friend this week, it was (in some ways) beautiful to bear witness to as my friend described standing by her friend’s bedside to say their final goodbyes. There was a knowing that their friend’s consciousness was no longer fully inhabiting their body, and that there was a peaceful unfolding into the love beyond.

Grief, though, isn’t always about people dying, this time of year is also the wind down of the calendar year, and my solar year, it’s a season in which I traditionally find myself reflecting on whatever aspects of life are playing out within that and the things that have changed or need to change.

There is a lot that has altered, and more is upon me, with life circumstances changing as my kids grow and we move to a new part of town. But there’s also the inner journey and the unhealthy patterns that emerge under duress, the ongoing learning and growth that occurs as part of life’s opportunities to grow more into my potential.

Among all of that grief is a natural part of the cycle of change. I read a quote by Jamie Anderson the other day:

“Grief, I’ve learned, is really just love. It’s all the love you want to give but cannot. All that unspent love gathered up in the corners of your eyes, the lump in your throat, and in that hollow part of your chest. Grief is just love with no place to go.”

When I read this I was not sure I wholly agreed with that sentiment. Although part of me agreed it’s true at least some of the time, I think another part of grief is the regrets that are expressed. That said, regrets are about not loving ourselves or others in ways we could have and, since we can’t change the past, perhaps that too could be seen as love with no place to go.

And as I type, my grand-aunt’s family has gathered around her but she is not yet in a state of surrender. I certainly have regrets about not having made it over to Canada for a visit before this moment. When my grand-aunt and her family emigrated by ship back in the 1960s, there was no thought of regular visits. But thankfully airplanes made a relationship possible that I would never otherwise have known.

It always seemed very exciting to me when our Canadian relatives visited, I remember my grand-uncle’s baseball caps as a thing that represented a whole different world as no one in Scotland wore them back then. As I later emigrated to a different part of the world, I think it was in part inspired by those earlier relatives who had made new lives abroad.

But I would have loved to visit. My grandparents took a trip over there many decades ago before they died, and my parents followed suit some years later. Despite the distance, made smaller by today’s technology, our family’s ties and relationship has deepened – and that is in no small part due to the lady I like to think of as a strong matriarch. Energetically there is a part of me now with my grand-aunt by her bedside, and another part in the subliminal space in-between where I envisage her sitting atop a meadow looking over a lake contemplating her life.

There is wealth of mixed feelings inside me right now, sitting alongside grief and what feels like an almost perpetual state of tiredness, stress and overwhelm. While I’m disappointed and embarrassed in not having made it over there all these years, I’m also in awe of the fortitude and generosity my grand-aunt demonstrated both because of and in spite of her own childhood hardships, the journey they made to start a new life, and the connection she maintained with and through the family despite the distance.

I will also feel relief for her when that final surrender comes, and I feel richer for the knowledge and love she imparted over the years. Having lost my own grandparents nearly forty years ago, her stories have helped me understand them and myself more, and I have also developed relationships within her family too that add another level of love and belonging to my life.

What I notice is that no feeling is an island, and grief is a good example of that. Whether it’s bad news or regrets of my own, or someone close to me passing, it’s always a mixture of blessings, some feel good and some feel bad. The point is to feel them all, I think, and to learn from what we can - for that is how we best honour ourselves, the things and the people we grieve.

If you enjoyed reading this, you may enjoy Reconnect With Loved Ones to Gain Some Perspective on Life, Even in Grief There Are lessons to Be Learned, Celebrate Often the Ways in Which You Are More Than Good Enough, Pain as a Powerful Catalyst for Self Awareness and Growth and Sit With Your Sorrow, Wait as It Reveals the Lessons It Offers. To be the first to receive these posts, you can also opt to subscribe to my blog.