On Grief
Learning the art of fishing for light in times of sadness and grief with reflections and poems.
In the hazy corridors of my early memories, I recall the visitations of sadness to our home during my toddler years. Those faint images mark my first encounter with loss, an uninvited guest to my nascent existence. At that tender age, grief was like a dark spectre stealing joy from my loved ones. Little did I know that grief would become a lifelong companion, arriving unannounced, without any signs of return.
In my current phase of life, I want to imagine how grief looks. What shape does it take? Does it have a face?
An apparition, a black hole, a human form or maybe it’s like the friendly ghost, Casper.
Grief sure is a master of disguise, a shapeshifter of emotions. For me, it has been as heavy as Sisyphus' boulder and at times as beautiful as a white dove escaping from my inner dungeons of personal loss.
In the dimly lit passages of life, grief is much like an unexpected guest at a dinner party. And yet, it's still a universal connector running through our lives, binding us all through time and borders. I can walk memory lane to recollect the countless encounters perpetrated by grief – the death of loved ones, loss of love, marriages and dreams, and the relentless march of time. When darkness looms large, hope and light can seem distant, if not unreachable.
The complexity of grief is perforated with voids wide and different for each of us, as highlighted by the Inventory of Complicated Grief (ICG) study and its various dimensions. This research underscores the diverse ways in which grief can manifest, encompassing not only emotional facets but also cognitive and behavioural elements. It delves into the intricate nuances of grief, revealing how it can disrupt one's daily functioning, leading to persistent yearning, disbelief, and even avoidance of reminders of the loss. In the context of my personal journey with grief, these complexities have been evident in the waves of sorrow that sometimes feel unending, the persistent longing for what's been lost, and the intricate dance between despair and hope. Understanding this complexity helps us walk around the emotional maze knowing that ultimately, we can find our unique paths towards healing and light. I had undertaken this quiz a few years back. There are times when I go back to the moment in time when grief caught me on my mother’s passing, my heartbreaks, my friends whom I lost and a host of other painful losses.
My holy bible for grief is Joan Didion’s writings, especially her poignant exploration in her seminal work, "The Year of Magical Thinking." She eloquently articulates the surreal nature of grief, where the mundane coexists with the profound, and time becomes a fluid, unpredictable entity. Didion's words resonate with those who have grappled with the bewildering facets of grief, as she reflects on the paradoxical moments when one finds solace in the most ordinary of routines. I remember the first thing I did after I reached home when my mother had passed away. I ate like I had never eaten in my life. It was an act of coping that I understood later. For a long period of time, I was hard on myself for eating at that time. The mundane moments are nothing but putting our heads to breathe while being buried in grief.
Didion’s observations highlight the intricacy of the grieving process, where emotions ebb and flow, and the boundaries between past and present blur. Didion's excerpts remind us that grief, in all its complexity, is a journey that defies easy categorization and demands profound introspection.
With humility, my relationships and encounters with grief have been consistent at regular intervals. Grief has visited me as bereavements, heartbreaks, failures, financial tsunamis, and many more brutal encounters that charred my soul beyond recognition. Today, I will not talk about the darkness that grief brings into our lives. I will share my thoughts on what may help a grieving person as he/she fishes for light.
Amidst despondent times, I want to share how I have searched for light in the darkest hours. Like a seasoned angler casting a line into the dark, unpredictable sea of life, I have learnt and still learning to fish for light amid the turbulence of grief.
Grief takes countless forms. Despite the notoriety of grief, I’d like to believe that it can be one of the chief architects of life's spiritual and inner infrastructure. If treated with care, it helps build foundations for the never-ending journey of grief.
The truth that I realised is that I am a fisherwoman. No one else but me can cast the net for salvation.
Before I could map the inner contours of grief to fish for light, I had to understand the darkness accompanying each visit. I took a long time understanding the shadows that tag along during these visits. I used to think that the weight of grief becomes lighter when someone is by your side. This is true to a large extent. The important realization for me was the acceptance that this congregational gathering of grief was unique for me. I had to stand still in humble acceptance that I was the angler.
Holding grief’s hand in the shadows.
I hated the seasons of grief until the last few years. Grief wasn’t a solitary visitor. It came with the whole shebang. The voices that mocked or the tiny deathly voice that gained momentum with each sleepless night grew stronger with the shadows. Grief can amplify these shadows, casting them into mountains hidden beneath the seas. These are not mere shadows that go away with the appearance of light. They are like buried corals filled with suppressed emotions, fears, and unresolved experiences. A seasoned diver or fisherwoman wouldn’t merely reach out to pull out these corals. There is a process to fetch them out. When these are fished out, they become treasures that show us our light. In facing our shadows, we come to terms with our grief and find the hidden pathways leading to parts of our soul and psyche that were entangled in darkness.
Cast the fishing line in the depths of your grief.
Like the angler chooses the right bait and casts their line into the depths, we, too, must cast our lines into the depths of our emotions when dealing with grief. The baits differ with time and circumstances.
Mary Oliver, one of my favourite poets of the natural world, shares about grief and darkness through her timeless verses. As one casts the line or dives into the depths of grief, one can also find solace in looking towards the natural world. The cyclical seasons of flourishing and shedding. The forest's silence in the depths of winter or the rituals of the geese that fly together. Each of us will have a unique reservoir of strength to tap into during these times. After years of fighting with grief, my inner voice is now trained to hold space for me like an infant at times. It is learning to become gentle and compassionate and know that everything takes its own time. There are no deadlines for the healing. These trips to fish for light cannot be a rush to heal or the avoidance to skip the dive into the pain. It nudges me to hold space for me as I try to look for the flicker of light.
I read the poem “Wild Geese,” for myself, “You do not have to be good. You do not have to walk on your knees for a hundred miles through the desert repenting.”
Her words remind me that it’s okay not to be perfect, not to bear the world's weight on our shoulders. In nature's embrace, we can find moments of peace and healing, discovering the resilience of the human spirit in the midst of life's challenges.
The casting line and reaching for light is an awfully long dive. One must wait in quiet fortitude for the light to emerge from the darkness.
Grief is not a linear journey with a predetermined destination; it’s an intricate process that unfurls uniquely for each soul. Over time, the jagged edges of grief may soften, revealing hints of light through the fissures of our pain. Healing does not imply forgetting; rather, it entails carrying the love and memories of what we’ve lost with us as we navigate the unknown waters of the future. We grow around grief.
Finding solace in connections but remember you hold a sea of light within yourself.
Zadie Smith wrote, “We are all fellow travellers on a journey of our own making, and in times of grief, our paths converge.” Amid the tempest of sorrow, the bonds we share with others grow and sometimes wither. These connections, whether with friends, family, or kindred spirits who have traversed similar paths, can serve as lifebuoys in our struggle for hope. Engaging in shared stories, shedding tears, or sharing laughter can illuminate even the darkest corners of our souls. In these connections, we realize that we are not solitary navigators; others have cast their lines into the same turbulent waters and found their own glimmers of hope.
There will be days when everything fails: the people, the circumstances, the grit and even the faith.
On such stormy days, give yourself a break. Do whatever feels right for that moment in time. I tend to sleep for days at times. It’s my escape from reality. But I tell myself, I can’t give up fishing for light. The light shows up when the storm within starts to settle and one acknowledges the cracks and void that stares from within. One cannot rush in to catch the light.
Time is a slow-moving river, especially during times of grief. To find hope and light in grief, embracing the gentle wisdom of time is important. In our encounter with grief, we need to cast lines into the fathomless depths of our emotions, questing for the concealed treasures of resilience and inner strength. Just like the patient fisherman waits and watches, so must we, as we wait to find the light.
Listen and pay attention to everything that rises and falls within.
A good angler must remain attentive to the changing currents and signs of life beneath the surface. To become good at fishing for light, attentiveness and awareness feel like primordial skills.
The tempests will rise like tsunamis wanting to ruin what’s left of life. Those days will be the hardest. One has to hold space for the self like a child needing attention and love. Sometimes, the connections in one’s life will embrace us. Sometimes, one feels like a tiny island floating aimlessly in the ocean of grief. There will be no one for hundreds of miles or the never-ending difficult nights. Those are the times to hold on to casting line with the deepest faith. Those are times when the light starts to emerge like Hafiz’s poem.
I wish I could show you the astonishing light of your being.
Simone Weil’s meditation on attention as the generosity of the soul is what the battered heart will need during the darkest night. True attentiveness requires us to tend to our suffering with an open heart, to fully embrace and experience our grief without resistance. In this tending, we discover a unique form of grace that washes us with gratitude for everything in life. This feeling has helped me stay sane in life's biggest battles.
Simone Weil’s wisdom on attentiveness underscores the importance of allowing ourselves to grieve fully and authentically. In doing so, we make room for healing, for the light of hope to seep through the cracks in our sorrow. When we extend this generosity of attention to ourselves in times of grief, we create a space for healing and renewal.
And when the light is finally caught, grief is a familiar friend. It emerges as a way of comfort, the path of remembrance, and the fight to survive as one deals with the losses thrown by life.
The journey through grief is profoundly personal, a path requiring a distinctive set of coordinates. Yet, it is a journey that need not be devoid of hope or light. Through the power of connection, the passage of time, and adorning the psyche of the patient fisherman, we can discover that even in the darkest moments, there is a flicker of light waiting to guide us. Grief, paradoxically, becomes a sage, revealing the tenacity of the human spirit and the potential to find hope amid the deepest sorrows.
Like skilled anglers, we can persistently fish for light, forging our way through the murkiness, and ultimately, discovering hope and healing in the process. Grief is a forever partner in our life.
I am reminded of Kusama’s Chandelier of Grief.
The truth is that it is an ever-present part of our lives with no end in sight. In coping with grief, remember: your pain is yours to bear, yet connections will hold space as you wade through the pools of grief, time will continue to unfold its gentle wisdom, and the depths of our emotions conceal hidden treasures. Grief’s touch will keep changing us. Make room for this companion. If it gets unbearable, know there is always someone within and around you to hold your hand and bring you to the light. So, let us embark on our quest, casting our lines into the abyss, searching for the light that beckons us from the depths of our sorrow.
My thoughts are still jumbled as I try to pour out everything surrounding me now. My thoughts are with my childhood friend, D, as she navigates through the most difficult territory of grief after a sudden and unimaginable loss. I lose a piece of my childhood memory with each parent who leaves us. The past week has been difficult for us friends who aren’t there to be beside each other as much we we want to be during this period. Grief is paying me a visit with bereavement and difficult-to-bear losses. In writing this, I’ve realised that grief is no longer a mere room but a familiar country or maybe a shadow that has been around me for a long long time.
I say this with utter humility,
“compassion, tenderness, grace, acceptance, resilience, darkness and most importantly love for self and this one precious life are what has kept me floating and alive during these frequent encounters with grief. I am at times an old soul who accepts and never revolts. There are days when I am like the little girl out there in the wild trying to fish for light as people I love leave me and go. I still go on to find the flickers of light to find my way back home. This I know, despite these invasions of grief, I will wake up looking at the sunshine through my window thanking for that moment of grace that has blessed my life. I am a paradox packed in a beautiful chaos of love and light.”
If I could, I would send this energy that I have to people who are going through difficult times in their lives. Remembering the many lives ravaged by grief as different turmoils ravage our world.
These poems are my resting places during difficult times. I hope you like them.
The Uses of Sorrow by Mary Oliver “Someone I loved once gave me a box full of darkness. It took me years to understand that this too, was a gift.” I can wade Grief— Emily Dickinson I can wade Grief— Whole Pools of it— I'm used to that— But the least push of Joy Breaks up my feet— And I tip—drunken— Let no Pebble—smile— 'Twas the New Liquor— That was all! Power is only Pain— Stranded, thro' Discipline, Till Weights—will hang— Give Balm—to Giants— And they'll wilt, like Men— Give Himmaleh— They'll Carry—Him! The Thing Is by Ellen Bass to love life, to love it even when you have no stomach for it and everything you’ve held dear crumbles like burnt paper in your hands, your throat filled with the silt of it. When grief sits with you, its tropical heat thickening the air, heavy as water more fit for gills than lungs; when grief weights you down like your own flesh only more of it, an obesity of grief, you think, How can a body withstand this? Then you hold life like a face between your palms, a plain face, no charming smile, no violet eyes, and you say, yes, I will take you I will love you, again.
As I navigate the ever-shifting tides of grief, I'm reminded that it is both an intricate puzzle and a profound teacher. In the depths of sorrow, I've learned to cast my line into the unknown, to patiently wait for the flicker of light amid the darkness. I keep fishing for light.
I leave you with this for reflection: What did you discover in your grief journey as you cast your own line into the abyss of your emotions, seeking the light that beckons from the depths of your sorrow?
Thank you, my friend ❤️
I've saved this one for so long to read. It will go in my saved folders for the dark and grieving days that will surely come in the future <3