“Working With” Grief and the Coronavirus
by Lisa S. Zoll, LCSW
This week, I was struck by some of the similarities between grief and the coronavirus. I was talking with a mother whose son had died by suicide. She was trying to find answers about why he did it. He didn’t leave a note, and there weren’t any warning signs before he took his life. She feels as if she should have been able to prevent it.
We talked about how she seemed to be “working against” her grief. I suggested that perhaps there was a way to “work with” it instead. When she asked what that meant, I had to admit that I wasn’t exactly sure. I thought about how the same could be said for us during the coronavirus crisis; do we “work against” it or do we “work with” it? I found myself in my backyard with wooden pallets, a hammer, and nails. I have spent the last week building a “She Shack.” It has become my way of “working with” the coronavirus.
When we “work against” something, we are trying to control things that we can’t control. When it comes to grief, at least initially, control and predictability can be difficult to find. Each day may bring challenges that we didn’t see coming. With grief, we try to find ways to live with difficult emotions, such as sadness; loneliness; anger; frustration; feelings of being stunned, dazed, or shocked; emptiness; feeling the death was unfair; emptiness...you get the picture.
We may be dealing with similar feelings when it comes to the coronavirus and our need for "social (physical) distancing," to stay at home, in some cases to shelter in place. I have seen posts about how people are grieving the loss of many things during this time. There are families that have and will lose loved ones to this virus. They grieve. There are other losses that people are grieving, such as cancelled trips, a long-awaited graduation ceremony, being able to visit aging parents, being able to gather with family and friends to celebrate special occasions, going to church or the mall or a restaurant. There are times when we feel like maybe we have these feeling under control, only to be blindsided by another feeling that we didn’t see coming.
Grief can come in bursts - it can be expected, or it can come out of the blue. While I was building my “She Shack,” I thought of all the forts that I built in my backyard growing up. It was a fond memory of my expert fort building skills! Here I am, some 40 years later, with wood, nails, and a hammer. But not just a hammer - that hammer was my dad’s hammer that I inherited or maybe “borrowed” from his toolbox. Ouch. That wasn’t because I missed a nail and hit my finger. It was because, in that moment, I missed my dad. I wish I could hold on to him instead of the hammer.
When we “work with” something, we try to find ways to take some control back. We try to build meaning into our experience. Victor Frankl, in his book, Man’s Search for Meaning, says that we discover meaning in three different ways: by creating a work or doing a deed, by experiencing something or encountering someone, and by the attitude we take toward unavoidable suffering. The things we do or that others do for us during our time of grief become a part of our grief narrative or story.
My husband and I met a woman in the grocery store just after her mother died. Her family was coming, and she was cooking a meal that their mom used to make for them. When they got to the checkout, we bought the groceries for her precisely so that her grief narrative would include a story about somebody doing something nice for them in their time of grief. I remember the thoughtfulness and kindness that people showed me when my parents died. I remember that some people called to check on me, some sent me beautiful cards, and some just listened to me tell and retell my stories. I wanted to pay that kindness forward. I also made a promise to my mom that her spirit of generosity would live on in me. These deeds, these experiences, these encounters, build meaning into our experience of grief.
The things that we do now or that others do for us, likewise, become part of our coronavirus story. I was picking up take-out at a local Chinese restaurant. A woman had come to pick up her favorite lunch, because it was her birthday and she couldn’t get together with her family to celebrate it. She was celebrating for herself. I covertly bought her lunch for her, before she could protest, so that part of her narrative of this time would be one in which someone was there to celebrate her birthday.
Going forward, we will remember the thoughtfulness and kindness that people showed us. We will remember that people called to check in on us, that people offered to pick up things from the grocery store for us, that people listened to us tell and retell our stories of how we are trying to make the best of this difficult and challenging time. These deeds, these experiences, and these encounters help us to build meaning during this time.
For me, my “She Shack” is building meaning into this challenging time - my dad’s hammer in hand, my mom’s generous spirit living on. My grief journey continues in these unexpected ways. Now, maybe I can try to explain to my client what I meant by “working with” her grief and what that might look like for her. I might tell her that it could mean not being so hard on herself as she tries to navigate the unknown territory of her grief. The same goes for us. We need to not be too hard on ourselves as we navigate this unknown territory of uncertainty, unpredictability, and physical distancing.
I heard this said in an evening devotion on Facebook Live. It is from the Book of Common Prayer. It is night after a long day. What has been done has been done; what has not been done has not been done; let it be… Let us look expectantly to a new day…new possibilities. “Work with.”
You don’t need to go to the lengths of building a “She Shack” to “work with.” Find the things or the people that you connect with in times of uncertainty - make your favorite recipe like the woman at the grocery store did to connect with her mother, or get take-out or delivery of your favorite food. You don’t have to wait for your birthday! One of the best things it seems we can do is to stay connected. Be the one to reach out. As soon as I finish writing this, I’m calling my friends in Florida who were our next-door neighbors when all those forts were built.
Lisa S. Zoll, LCSW, is the founder and owner of Grief Relief, LLC, and specializes in helping individuals challenged by loss and grief. Lisa holds a master’s degree in social work with a clinical concentration from Temple University and was a full-time instructor in the program at Temple University Harrisburg.