Creating Space for the One You Still Reach for…

Every once in a while, someone in my grief group says something that I wish I could hand to every grieving person I meet. Recently, Dan Verhasselt shared something he has been doing since the death of his wife, Sandy. It is not a formula nor something everyone needs to do. Grief does not come with an instruction manual, and what helps one person may do absolutely nothing for another.

But what Dan created for himself is a beautiful example of self-care in grief. He created a place where his grief and his love could go. Here is Dan, in his own words:

Creating My Personal Quiet Space With Sandy

by Dan Verhasselt

When Sandy died, I felt a new emotion inside of me: emptiness. I also felt anxiety and pain in my heart.

After a few weeks, I tried creating a quiet space where I could spend some time with Sandy, but I was unsuccessful. It was just me sitting there alone. Later, I tried something different. I turn off all the lights and light a candle in front of a picture of Sandy. The candlelight, the aroma of the candle, and Sandy’s picture create an atmosphere where I can relax and reflect.

I first experienced something like this at Hamilton’s Coping With Grief Symposium. They had created a quiet space in their chapel. I wrote Sandy’s name on a label and placed it near a candle. The chapel was dark except for the light from the candles. It was very peaceful.  On the other side of the chapel, a harpist, Sarah Brady, was playing. I love the soft tones of the harp, and she put her heart into the music. It was beautiful and touched my soul.

Now, at home, I play soft, relaxing music while I look at Sandy’s picture through the candlelight. It has become a peaceful time that I spend with her.

It is important for me to slow down, quiet myself, and stop thinking about all the things I need to do. I have always been someone who keeps busy. But I am learning that slowing down is an important part of dealing with my grief.

The feelings of grief can be overwhelming. I need a place where I can relax my body and let some of those emotions come. Sometimes, in that space, I feel the sadness of missing Sandy. But I can also feel joy because, for a moment, I feel close to her. I suppose both of those feelings are really just my love for her. I am glad I can still feel that love at this time in my life.

Over time, I have noticed less anxiety and less pain in my chest. I do not feel quite as empty inside. I am beginning to move forward with my life again. —Dan Verhasselt

Grief Needs Somewhere to Go

What strikes me about Dan’s story is not the candle or the music or even the photograph. Those things matter because they help Dan do something many of us are not very good at doing:

Stop.

Grief can make us want to stay busy. There is laundry. Work. Phone calls. Paperwork. Groceries. Bills. A garage that suddenly looks strangely urgent. Anything except sitting still long enough to feel what is actually there.  We are hardwired to avoid pain and stopping means feeling some of what we’ve been trying to avoid.

And there is nothing wrong with staying busy for a while. Sometimes we need the distraction. But grief has a way of asking for our attention, and we cannot avoid it forever. We cannot go around grief. We can only go through it.

Dan created a place where he could stop long enough to keep going through it. Not all day. Not forever. Just for a little while. A candle. A photograph. Some music. And permission to miss Sandy.

That may be what makes his quiet space so powerful. He is not trying to get rid of grief. He is giving grief somewhere to be. And in that space, something interesting happens: sadness and joy can exist together.

Dan misses Sandy. Dan loves Sandy. Those are not opposite experiences. They are connected.

As Dan put it: “I suppose both of these feelings are really just my love for her.”

I think he is exactly right. Our grief bears witness to how much someone meant to us. When we make room for grief, we also make room for the love underneath it.

Maybe that is one way to understand grief itself. Love had somewhere to go when Sandy was here. It went into conversation, touch, routines, laughter, care, irritation, meals, plans, and all the ordinary pieces of a shared life.

After someone dies, the love does not disappear. But suddenly it has nowhere obvious to go. Dan’s quiet space gives some of that love a place to land.

Remember

Grief is love looking for somewhere to go.

One Step Forward

You do not need to recreate Dan’s space but you might experiment with creating one of your own. Find a place where you can be undisturbed for ten or fifteen minutes. You might light a candle. Put out a photograph. Play music. Hold something that belonged to the person you love.

Or do none of those things.

The important part is simply to stop for a little while and make room for whatever comes. There is nothing you are supposed to feel. Just notice what is there.

Consider This

Where does your grief get permission to simply be?

Until next week, remember: you do not have to spend every moment confronting grief. But you also do not have to spend every moment outrunning it.

Sometimes creating a little space for grief creates a little space for peace and for love.

Peace,

Tom

If someone came to mind while you were reading this, share it with them. Maybe they need permission to create a little space for their grief, too.