Grieve

The Work of Sorrow

Have you ever tried to rush past sorrow? I know I have.

We live in a culture obsessed with speed and 'bouncing back' quickly. When a major loss hits, whether it’s the passing of a loved one, the the loss of employment, or the inevitable failing of our body, our whole system revolts.

These past few months have been a period where I've entered into grief with the sickness and then the passing of my own father.

The loss isn't just a mental thing; it's a physical weight in your chest, a dull roar of noise, and a sense that the floor has dropped out.

We are often told to "be strong," but in reality, grief is less like a mountain we climb over, and more like a vast ocean that changes the coastline of our lives.

The need to grieve isn't reserved just for the death of a loved one. We feel the sharp edges of loss when we lose something fundamental to our identity or hope, a relationship, a long-held dream, or a sense of place.

When something fundamental to our identity or hope is taken away, the only way through is through. This journey demands the difficult, necessary work of grief. It is, perhaps, the most honest and necessary thing we can do when our world has been fundamentally shifted.

My own recent experience with the loss of my father profoundly shaped how I understand grief. He passed away in September after a battle with dementia.

Since September, the grief has come in waves, but in hindsight, the grieving process began much earlier.

There was a sense of losing him before he was actually gone, the quiet, painful fading of his memory, his personality, and with the loss of the familiar routines and conversations that defined our relationship.

This kind of loss is difficult because you are grieving the present person while they are still physically here. It caused an incredible sense of loss that compounded the pain when he finally passed.

This layered sorrow is why a non-linear model of grief is so vital. We need tools strong enough to hold complex emotions, whether they stem from the final passing or the quiet, ongoing loss of a career, a marriage, or a loved one's mental capacity.

One useful psychological framework for this is the Dual Process Model of coping with bereavement, developed by Margaret Stroebe and Henk Schut.

This research suggests that healthy grieving involves constantly oscillating, like a pendulum, between two distinct modes:

1. Loss-Oriented Coping: Focusing on the loss itself, the sadness, the crying, acknowledging the lost future, or the loss of the person as they were. This is the work of sorrow.
2. Restoration-Oriented Coping: Focusing on adjusting to the world without the lost thing, taking on new roles, mastering new skills, and tackling life changes. This is the work of rebuilding.

💡 Prompt: Commit to the Oscillation. Grief isn't linear, it's a constant shift between sorrow and rebuilding. This week, simply notice when you are in one mode versus the other. Give yourself permission to fully engage in whichever side of the process shows up, without judgment.

“It seems to me, that if we love, we grieve. That’s the deal. That’s the pact. Grief and love are forever intertwined. Grief is the terrible reminder of the depths of our love and, like love, grief is non-negotiable.”

Nick Cave

The Spiritual Layer: The Necessity of Lament

Grief is deeply spiritual because it forces us to confront our deepest questions.

In many faith traditions, pausing for sorrow is seen as something sacred.

Judaism has highly ritualised periods of mourning (Shiva, Shloshim), which provide a structured, communal framework that forces the mourner to stop and be cared for.

Buddhism teaches the reality of impermanence (Anicca). Grieving becomes the process of accepting that all things are temporary.

From my own perspective, particularly in navigating the loss of my father, I found the practice of lament (as seen in the Psalms) to be incredibly helpful. Lament is more than just crying or complaining (although those things are a part of it); it's a structured protest and complaint addressed to hope. It is the act of directing your raw, painful, and often angry questions and feelings to a loving source, rather than stuffing them down inside.

When you lament, you are essentially saying: "This hurts, and I need help." It is an act of trust, acknowledging that the spiritual source of life is strong enough to handle your deepest pain without breaking. It’s the pause where I tell the universe and the source of the life in it, "What I lost mattered."

"The dance of life finds its beginnings in grief...... Here a completely new way of living is revealed. It is the way in which pain can be embraced, not out of a desire to suffer, but in the knowledge that something new will be born in the pain."

Henri Nouwen

How to Grieve: Active and Intentional Practices

Grief should be treated as a job you have to show up for, but one where the hours are flexible and the pace is slow.

1. Practise Lament (Loss-Oriented)

• Write It Down: Don't just journal your feelings; write out your questions and pain directly. Use the language of lament: Why did this happen? How long, before I feel normal? This intentional release helps you externalise the pain.
• Acknowledge the Value: When lamenting the loss of identity or function (like in dementia or chronic illness), remember that the pain is proportional to the value you placed on what was lost.

2. Create a Ritual (Restoration-Oriented)

Grief rituals are crucial psychological work that give your internal pain an external, manageable shape.

• Commemorate: If you lost a loved one, light a candle at the same time each day, or start a new habit in their honour.
• Redefine: If you lost a role or ability, create a new daily ritual that intentionally uses the skills or focus of your new life. This could be volunteering, taking a class, or starting a small creative project.

3. Speak the Loss (The Social Science)

Research consistently shows that social support is the single most important factor in long-term grief recovery. When you isolate yourself, you prevent your community from helping you carry the burden.

• Your Action: Identify two trusted people. When they ask how you are, resist the urge to say, "I'm okay." Instead, share one specific, small detail about your grief, a memory of your lost loved one, or one frustration about your changed health, a feeling you're holding. These moments of authentic communication affirm the ongoing place the loss holds in your life and allow your community to truly support you.

We can’t rush this process, and we don't have to. We can trust that this intentional work, this commitment to honesty, to self-compassion, and to acknowledging the profound importance of what was loss, will eventually lead us toward a new, meaningful chapter.

“Give sorrow words; the grief that does not speak knits up the o-er wrought heart and bids it break.”

Macbeth