The late Oliver Sacks’s life partner, Bill Hayes, has written Insomniac City, New York, Oliver and Me. It is an incredible memoir and honors his relationship with Oliver, Oliver’s decline and death, and Bill’s love of New York City. The writing, the telling, pulls the reader into a place that is quietly special.

I suppose it’s a cliché to say you’re glad to be alive, that life is short, but to say you’re glad to be not dead requires a specific intimacy with loss that comes only with age or deep experience. One has to know not simply what dying is like, but to know death itself, in all its absoluteness.

 

After all, there are many ways to die — peacefully, violently, suddenly, slowly, happily, unhappily, too soon. But to be dead — one either is or isn’t.

 

The same cannot be said of aliveness, of which there are countless degrees. One can be alive but half-asleep or half-noticing as the years fly, no matter how fully oxygenated the blood and brain or how steadily the heart beats. Fortunately, this is a reversible condition. One can learn to be alert to the extraordinary and press pause — to memorize moments of the everyday.

I highly recommend the book – for many reasons – but it shines in its ability to remove the reader from the current political intensity. It reminds us that we can be inspired. It reminds us that the world at large doesn’t need to change who we are or how we chose to be. It reminds us to pay attention to what brings us joy.

Found on Amazon.com

Shifting from “what was” to “what will be”

Stroebe and Schut define grieving as a process of “oscillating between stepping back into yearning for the past, and stepping forward to construct a future.” Dominique Browning refers to this as a time of alternating between “holding on and hiding, and holding on and seeking.”

In any case, it involves a kind of rocking movement, similar to how you would free your car when one of your tires sinks deep into mud or snow. As you shift gears from reverse into forward, rocking back and forth, back and forth, back and forth, you finally gain traction and are out of the hole—only to realize you that you have little idea of where you are going. However, the lack of a destination is often less uncomfortable than the fear that you are leaving your loved one behind.

Who are you to become

A woman in class once commented, “There was a time when I couldn’t imagine feeling alive again, and now I freak out when I realize I haven’t thought of my partner for a couple of days.” This response is not unusual; some people say they prefer the pain of grief over the uneasiness and apprehension that comes from starting over.

Death ends a life—not a good or a bad relationship

The bereaved often find first-year support group sessions comforting because they are with others who also feel the pressure to hide their sorrow and pretend they aren’t disoriented, sleep-deprived and anxious. While it is common to hear people express relief that a loved one no longer has to suffer, seldom do individuals say they feel set free by a death.

The book Liberating Losses: When death brings relief by Jennifer Elison, EDD and Chris McFonigle, PhD opens up the subject of “relief grief” and supports those who live in silence for fear of being judged and ostracized.

Not every death is tragedy

How will you get through the season?

Every year the holidays come with a rush: typically Halloween hits and life becomes a blur until January 2nd. But this is not a typical holiday season for you, and what you will likely notice—for the first time—are couples out and about coping with the holiday blur together, underlining the fact that you are now alone.

There is one consolation you can count on: January is not far off. Until then you can limit added holiday distress by remembering to:

1. participate when and where you feel most comfortable
2. give yourself permission to leave a gathering early, and
3. fight the desire to isolate entirely.

Where have you historically felt comfortable?

If being with family has provided a warm comforting holiday environment in the past, surround yourself with family this year, but keep in mind they are grieving as well. If there is ongoing family discord, limit your family time and focus on quality time with close friends.

Why doesn’t anyone mention your loss?

A woman in one of my groups once commented, “There was a time when I couldn’t imagine feeling alive again, and now I freak out when I realize I haven’t thought of my partner for a couple of days.” This response is not unusual; some people say they prefer the pain of grief over the uneasiness and apprehension that comes from starting over. As frightening as an undefined future can feel, you have two choices: you can (1) sink your stake of grief deeper and live in the past, or (2) pull up the stake and transform it into a rudder that guides you forward.

The first choice allows your grief to define the rest of your life; the second requires you to actively participate in who you are to become. By choosing the second option, you are signing up for what psychologists Tedeschi and Calhoun refer to as post-traumatic growth and Tom Attig calls relearning the world. Both imply that you become a student rather than an authority.