Daryl Wood's Blog

“Are you getting grief counseling?” “Yes, I reply.” The sigh on the end of the phone is audible followed by “Oh good.” I know what that means: “Oh good, someone who knows what to do is telling you what to do so you can move on and it won’t be so hard for me to be around you.” The relief is gratitude that someone else is taking responsibility for fixing me. It has all just become too much for many of those closest to me. I don’t seem to be getting ‘better’ and even when there is noticeable progress, there is surprise and frustration when I plunge back into mournful sobs and aching despair.

I get it. It’s hard to be around me sometimes. But no amount of grief counseling can ever replace the love and comfort I crave from family and friends and more than anything from my beloved Doug. He was my North Star, my safe place. If only these people who are left with the task of propping me up knew how to be with my grief. My grief is different from any grief they have experienced. It’s different from every other grief anyone has ever endured because even in similar circumstances I bring to it my own history, biology, perspectives, experience, life circumstances, relationships (with my dearest Doug and others), etc. How could anyone who loves me be expected to know what to do with my grief? Most of the time, I don’t know what to do with it either.

First up, it’s not a competition so telling me about someone else’s grief (your own, a relative, a friend, a neighbour, a co-worker, someone you met on a street corner or read about online) diminishes what I’m feeling and sometimes hints at shaming for being so distraught when “other people have it much worse.” Someday, I sincerely hope, I am able to expand my capacity to be of service to others again. Not yet.

People often tell me I am teaching others how to be with grief. I don’t want this job. It is exhausting on every level. I am a teacher by nature but I am living this and even though my life experiences have been woven into my coaching and training programs, this one is much more complicated and confusing. I realize now that I have very limited expertise in the area of grief. I didn’t know that before November 12, 2023.

There are long lists of ‘dos and don’ts’ when supporting a grieving person. It’s beyond me to list them all here but they are easily found online. Perhaps the most important one is to listen. I trained as a Life Coach and worked hard at learning to listen without attachment. I practiced and practiced because I come from a long line of problem solvers. My family and extended family are masters of figuring out what to do when something is broken. I’m blessed with countless fixers who have jobs that require these high level, intellectually stimulating talents. They are useless skills when someone is grieving. In fact, they can be very hurtful.

In his book A Hidden Wholeness, Parker Palmer, the renowned author describes his work with the Circle of Trust. I used the group criteria in my women’s retreats to ensure a safe space for everyone to be seen and heard. I’ve tried to follow these principle (occasionally achieving success) and now see how critical they are when someone grieving reaches out for support. In fact, I shared them with a friend yesterday who, in the most gentle and caring way, began to tell me what I ‘need to do’. I stopped him and quoted “no fixing, no saving, no advising and no setting straight.” Tearfully, I thanked him for this generosity of spirit and for being so willing to offer his wisdom to save me from the pain I was enduring. He was gracious in his acceptance of my feedback.

It took an inner strength I didn’t know I had to say out loud to him what I’ve been wishing I could say to dozens of people who have reached out so compassionately these past 17 weeks. But I did it because this relationship matters to me and I desperately needed to tell the truth. I was so worn down from having to explain my sadness to people who are just trying to get on with their own lives. And as much as we are close, this friend and I have enough distance that it’s safe to be honest. I didn’t risk losing those who ‘must’ help me through this, the ones who are stuck with me biologically or through marriage and have those closed door exasperated conversations about what to do with Daryl.

I didn’t choose this path of grief and my ‘people’ didn’t choose their role in being with me. Even though many of us love and care about someone in grief we rarely have the time and energy in our lives to commit to learning how to be the best supporter. That’s why there are valuable resources for grieving people because we know that almost exclusively no one close to us can give us what we need to survive these early days. And 17 weeks is early days. 17 months and 17 years will never erase the open wound in our hearts. The most we can hope for is a handful of people close to us willing to sign on and learn and grow with us. For them, and for me, it’s the drifting closer and pulling back that keeps us fumbling through this tough place we find ourselves. With the best intentions on both sides, it’s still not easy.