Feel free to use a journal as you work through these questions. Or use them as a tool to bring to your therapist or spiritual or religious counselor in order to explore them on a deeper level.
1. What do you think happens when someone dies?
First note your immediate response to this question; take that initial response and think about it for a moment. Is your answer something you’ve been carrying around with you since you were a kid? Is it based on something your parents believed, or is it from the religion you were raised with or are currently embracing?
There is no right answer. Any of these reasons for having your initial response are just fine. But now that you have lost someone dear to you and what you believe about the afterlife matters more than ever, I want you to really look at this belief. Is it one that brings comfort? Does it fit with who you are and what you know your relationship and love for your person to be?
If your immediate response is that nothing happens when we die, think about that too. Do you absolutely believe that? If the answer is still yes, that’s okay too. However, if there is a glimmer of doubt there, then I urge you to honor those fragments of curiosity. You can go back to believing that there is nothing, but first just let yourself open up to the idea that there might be something and see how that feels.
2. If you have a firm belief about what happens when we die (including that there is nothing after this life), do you currently have a spiritual, religious, or philosophical framework with which to explore it?
Many of us believe something, even if we can’t pinpoint where it comes from. Start there, first by identifying what it is, and then I want you to think about whether you want to continue holding on to this belief.
If you’re sure that this belief resonates the most with you and that you find it helpful and healing, then I want you to begin to do the work to strengthen it. Embracing your belief system will be a key way for you to work through your grief, which will in turn ease your anxiety. And embracing your belief will hopefully serve to allow you to open up to ways you can restore a sense of connection with your loved one.
Even if your belief is that there is nothing, return to James’s story and know that you can still allow your brain and heart to connect with your loved one without believing that they can even hear you or connect with you from the other side.
If you aren’t sure that your belief is one that you want to continue to hold on to, then there is a great opportunity here for you to do some exploration in this realm. Check in with yourself about any curiosity you’ve had about particular religions or philosophies. Go visit a church or a temple. Pick up different books that appeal to you, and read about various religions or views of the afterlife.
Do this until you find something that resonates and appeals to you and embrace it even more. Join a church and find a clergy person who is willing to engage with you and help you explore your beliefs. Begin to incorporate this religion’s practices into your daily life.
Or find a center that offers workshops around different modalities of meditation and spirituality. Find ways to incorporate those teachings into your rituals, holidays, and anniversaries.
Think too about your loved one’s spirituality or religion. Perhaps they held beliefs that would feel comforting for you to adopt. This could bring you an even greater sense of connection to them.
Above all, begin to engage in lengthy conversations with people about what happens when someone dies. Even when you are not sure yourself, it can be soothing and informative to hear someone else’s take.
3. Ask yourself what do you most want to happen when we die?
About halfway through the journey of writing my last book, as I had grown accustomed to doing, I asked a writer friend of mine what he thinks happens when we die. He looked at me for me for a moment, and I waited for him to answer. I already knew he was an atheist, but I was still curious to hear his exact response. “Claire,” he finally said, “what do you want to happen when we die?”
I found myself dumbstruck. I realized in an instant that I had never even asked myself that very question. I realized I had only ever considered ideas and beliefs that had been presented to me in various ways throughout my life.
I sat with the question for almost a year, turning it back and forth in my mind and allowing myself to entertain all kinds of answers. When I finally came to a conclusion of the scenario I would most wish for upon death, it allowed me to then seek a spiritual framework that supported this wish, and as a result, I was able to delve deeper into my belief system.
I urge you to do the same. Let yourself imagine what it is you would most want to happen when we die. Remove all restrictions from your answer. If the scenario could be anything, anything you want, what would it be? The answer might come to you instantly, or you may have to ponder it, as I did. Either way, use that answer as a means of digging even deeper to find an established religion or philosophy with which to strengthen your belief system around your conclusion.
JON’S STORY
When Jon came to see me, his wife, Liz, had been gone for three years. A young widower, Jon had been only in his early thirties when she died of cancer, leaving him and their two young children alone.
In our first session, Jon told me that for the first two years after Liz’s death, he had not felt that he needed therapy. Looking back now, though, he realized it probably would have helped, for now he found himself grappling with several things that were causing him emotional distress and anxiety.
In the initial years following Liz’s death, Jon felt that he’d had no choice but to just “put his head down and do the best to get through it.” He was working a full-time job and trying to care for his two young daughters. Even though he had family around to help support him in many ways, he still felt overwhelmed as a single parent. Back then he worried that if he were to let his grief rise up, then it might swallow him whole and that he would be reduced to being an emotional mess, unable to care for his children.
But over the past several years, his grief had not disappeared, as he hoped it would. In fact, it sometimes threatened to come on even more strongly than in the beginning. With each milestone his daughters reached without their mom, Jon felt increasing anxiety and despair about living out the rest of his life without Liz.
He made the decision to come see me when he experienced several panic attacks, in addition to a few bursts of intense rage. Jon knew that it was his unresolved grief that was behind these outbursts and anxiety, but he was scared to face it.
Over the course of several months, I worked closely with Jon. There were some sessions in which Jon just cried, something that he had hardly ever allowed himself to do in the years since Liz’s death. There were other sessions in which he told me long stories about his life with Liz and about the details of their relationship. And there were yet other sessions during which Jon carefully reviewed the time line of her illness and the experience of watching her die.
Jon begrudgingly began a daily journal and a meditation practice, both of which had positive results. By this time in our work, Jon’s anxiety had dropped a discernible amount, but he was still having bouts of anger. Probing deeper is what finally led him to the work of exploring his spirituality.
Ever since Liz was first diagnosed with cancer, Jon had felt angry. He told me about what a good person Liz had been, that not only she had she been kind and thoughtful, but she had devoted her life to working with special-needs kids. Jon was furious that someone like Liz could be taken not just from him and his daughters but from the world. Jon felt that Liz didn’t deserve to die and that his daughters didn’t deserve to grow up without a mother.
I asked Jon about his spiritual and religious beliefs, asked him what he thinks happens when we die. Jon told me that he had been raised Catholic, but he no longer went to church, since there was a lot about the church with which he didn’t resonate. I asked Jon if he had ever thought of considering adopting a different religion.
Jon admitted that
he had pretty much written off all religions, feeling daunted at the idea of trying to explore something new. But he also admitted that he thought it might help him to feel that he had something to believe in.
Jon told me that Liz had grown up in the Unitarian Church but that she too had become less involved as she moved into the career part of her life. Before she got sick, she had begun to talk about joining a local church and taking their daughters. But then she had grown ill, and the effort had been put aside. I suggested to Jon that maybe he could both honor Liz’s wishes and also explore his own faith in a new way by becoming active with the Unitarian Church. Jon began to go to Sunday services often with his daughters as well as spending time with the pastor talking about his transition from the Catholicism of his youth.
In time, Jon found great solace in this new church and in reestablishing a relationship with God. Jon began to attribute a new meaning to both his life and to Liz’s death, and in doing so his anger finally began to dissipate.
I’m happy to report that Jon is still doing well and his daughters are continuing to thrive. Jon still goes to church services regularly and tells me that he feels closer to Liz than ever. He tells me that he has no idea how long he would have gone on stifling his grief and dealing with anxiety and anger had he not done the hard task of working through his grief.
SKEPTICISM AND OPTIMISM
Some people may feel that religion or spirituality can work as a scapegoat, giving people a false sense of hope or optimism about the fate of their loved ones. To that argument, I want to say that I think even a false sense of optimism and hope is better than debilitating anxiety and anger.
When I was researching the afterlife for my last book, in addition to religion and spirituality, I also saw more than a dozen psychic mediums. Many of my clients, past and present, have either gone to see a medium or been curious about it. I too was curious about it and also wanted to have a base of knowledge about the experience to discuss with my clients when the issue came up.
I went into the experiences with these mediums feeling very skeptical. I met with some who were clearly charlatans, and I had experiences with others that were so uncanny, they made me rethink some of my beliefs. But the one thing I could not deny was that for those people who had a positive experience with a medium, I was able to note a discernible difference in their sense of peace and their connection with their lost loved one.
That restored connection as well as the peace made me realize that it doesn’t always matter if what you believe is “real.” What matters is how it makes you feel. So again, let yourself feel open to exploring all possible avenues in this realm.
THE POWER OF RITUAL AND HONORING OUR LOVED ONES
A rabbi I spoke to once explained to me that in the Jewish religion, there is very little emphasis on the afterlife, that in Judaism the afterlife is what a person leaves behind here in this life. He went on to say that a person’s afterlife is composed of the legacies and work they leave behind, the good deeds they did during their life, and the values they instilled in others. I found this idea comforting and useful.
The truth is that in order to maintain a sense of connection to your loved one, you needn’t rely on any religion at all. There are myriad ways that you can honor your person and create meaningful rituals that bring them into your daily life.
My client Alice’s mother had always had great compassion and concern for homeless people. Even though Alice’s mother had been a stay-at-home mom, she had volunteered frequently for a local soup kitchen and donated frequently to homeless shelters. As Alice became a teenager, she had begun to join her mother in these acts of service. Yet when she came to see me, her mom had been dead for several years and Alice was struggling to find meaning in her life, working a job she didn’t care much about and involved with a man about whom she felt equally ambivalent.
When Alice told me the stories about volunteering with her mother, I could see her entire countenance brighten. She went on to tell me that doing this work with her mom had been some of her favorite memories. When I asked Alice if she had continued to volunteer with the homeless after her mother’s passing, she seemed surprised to admit that she had not. It was truly one of those aha moments.
Alice quit her job and got a new one working at an organization that helps to support and integrate homeless people back into the workplace. After only a few months, her entire life had changed as a result. She was thrilled to go to work every day, feeling as though she was contributing to the world in a meaningful way, and not only that, but she felt so much closer to her mother doing this work.
There are thousands more ways, even simpler than Alice’s, that you can start doing today to honor your loved one and connect with the memory of them. My mother was a chef, and I grew up loitering in the kitchen with her while she prepared meals. After she was gone, I missed that time together, but I also missed her food! In my early twenties I went on a mission to teach myself how to cook and was surprised how much I already knew, just having spent so much time watching my mother.
To this day I feel more connected to my mother when I’m cooking than at any other time. I’ve also made it a point to cook with my own daughters, and when I do I always make a point to share stories about my mother and invoke her presence.
When I ask my clients about ways they can honor their person or rituals they can instate that will make them feel closer to their loved ones, they can almost invariably think of several ways off the top of their heads. I’m sure you can, too. Nonetheless, below you will find a few more ideas. Remember that doing these things will make you feel closer to your person, and feeling closer to them will enable you to feel whole again and to experience less anxiety.
ANNIVERSARIES AND HOLIDAYS
Birthdays, death days, wedding anniversaries. … These dates can be tough. Some people choose to shrink from them, while others feel better embracing them. But even those who try to ignore the date usually feel it anyway. Often, there is a lot of anticipation leading up to the day itself, and there is also some amount of relief after it has passed.
Not having your person there to celebrate with you can illuminate your grief around the loss. However, finding ways to incorporate them in your holiday rituals can give you a stronger sense of connection. Finding ways to face these dates and to do something meaningful during them will help ease your sadness and anxiety. Here are a few suggestions.
Cook their favorite meal.
Go to their favorite restaurant.
Visit their gravesite.
Donate to a charity in their name.
Plant a flower or tree.
Travel to their favorite place.
Write them a letter.
Go to a place of religious significance or worship.
Watch your loved one’s favorite movie.
Visit a place he or she always wanted to visit.
Wear an item of clothing or jewelry that belonged to your person.
Watch home movies or look through photos.
Hold a meal gathering and ask everyone to share stories.
Ask everyone at the gathering to share a favorite memory of your loved one.
Say a prayer or blessing in their honor.
Set an extra plate, even though they’re not there.
Donate to a charity during the holiday season in their honor.
Continue to uphold any traditions they particularly enjoyed.
Place fresh photos of them around during gatherings.
Light a candle in their honor.
Hang a special ornament in their honor.
Say a toast in their honor.
Play your loved one’s favorite music during a gathering.
Have a moment of silence in honor of your loved one.
Those of us who work and write in the field of bereavement consistently see that the people who take time to ritualize, honor, and talk about their loved ones almost always fare better emotionally in the long run than those who don’t.
One su
ch expert in the field of bereavement is Allison Gilbert, author of numerous books, including Parentless Parents and Passed and Present: Keeping Memories of Loved Ones Alive. Allison’s mother died of cancer when she was twenty-five, and then she lost her father to cancer six years later, when she was thirty-one. She has since used her experiences to help many others understand their own arcs of grief and feels strongly that maintaining a healthy sense of connection to our lost loved ones heals grief and anxiety.
For Allison, this revelation came after seeing how her anxiety about more loss was manifesting in unhealthy emotional behavior that included feelings of irrational fear and catastrophic thinking around situations, such as her son missing his curfew by forty-five minutes. Allison said:
The morning after that happened I had a revelation about my behavior. I gathered my feelings and spoke calmly with my son, Jake, and my husband, Mark, about my outburst. Yes, I’ve been damaged by my losses. Yes, a cough can turn into cancer and kill you within months (my father). Things happen in an instant, and we often can’t control them. Mark and I agreed, with Jake listening intently, that Mark doesn’t share these concerns because he’s never suffered a death in his close-knit family. And that makes our experiences and perspectives different. My losses have shaped the way I see the world, why I tend to invent worst-case scenarios.
She explained, “Behaviors that worked for me as a mom of small kids worked well for a time—they were in line with anxious thinking. I was a good mom because I was hyperaware. I was a good mom because I investigated stroller safety reports and the best NHTSA-rated car seats. Now, as a mom of two teenagers (my daughter is fifteen) these same behaviors create inordinate stress.”
Anxiety- The Missing Stage of Grief Page 19
