Uneven Aging: Anticipatory grief

In addition to the asymmetry of Uneven Aging, when one partner retains good health and the other has a setback, there lurks another divide: that between a temporary and long-term situation. It is one thing care for a partner or friend with a hip replacement, another to support one with a terminal diagnosis. 

Hope is like oxygen: when you have it, it lifts even low days, and without it, you struggle to even breathe. 

As I write, I think of Susan K., who died of breast cancer. Even when she knew all options had been exhausted, she did not, as her husband Ben told me, "want friends to think there was no hope". But when we met in a café, she gestured widely, a movement that flung her wedding ring off her finger. We exchanged a look. She said, "What's left to do is finish things with Ben." She gave me many gifts of friendship; her final one was candour.

I was as close to him as to her. Ben had been quietly mourning this impending loss while he tried to preserve normal family life for their teenaged sons, Joe and Morgan. During that year, Ben, a flight controller, began having problems at work. He performed the technical aspect of the job proficiently, but his collegial manner evaporated. His manager suggested counselling, where Ben learned about what is sometimes called "white grief", the mourning that happens while the loved one is still living.

While grief counsellors are familiar with it, family and friends are usually not, so their good-hearted impulse is to manufacture hope. One friend approached Ben at a high school football game and pressed some contraband Mexican medication into his hands, saying, "Joe needs his mother!" 

I was not exempt; Susie and I spent hours exchanging links to custom-made wigs, though I sensed she was unlikely to get much use from one.

Typical expressions of anticipatory grief include the emotional (sadness, anger, blame-laying); cognitive (confusion, memory loss, disorientation); and physical (fatigue, loss of appetite, flare-ups of health issues). The grieving partner may withdraw from the friend circle and even from family. 

Anyone facing grief is in a room with a prowling tiger—so, is it not weird to pretend otherwise? Thanks to the counselling, Ben realized that because he had suppressed his grief, he had been avoiding a crucial decision: should he try to keep Susie at home, or arrange admission to a hospice? He described the moments after they chose a hospice and sat in silence holding hands, as "one of the closest times of our life together."

That's only one story, and no one's situation is the same. Some persons will deny themselves any hint of anticipatory grief, because others are telling them to "stay strong" or "think positively". If you have been through loss yourself, you know how lame this advice can sound at a certain point. 

At Susie's memorial, Joe said that over the past year, each day had been a fresh heartbreak, and now that she was gone, he felt immense gratitude for his years with her. He looked first at his sons, then the crowd, and said, "We know how much she loved us. That sustains us still, and always will."

If you are in the midst of anticipatory grief yourself, don't assume carrying the grief alone now will toughen you up for later; it doesn't unfold that way. A bereavement counsellor can help; if it's more convenient, consider phone sessions. Grief is its own majestic, complex and unavoidable state that is embedded in life with those we love.  

Be ahead of all parting
Rainer Maria Rilke
(Excerpt from Sonnets to Orpheus, Part I, XIII)
Be ahead of all parting, as if it had already happened.
As if it were winter, which even now is passing.
For beneath the winter there is a winter so endless
that your heart, surviving it, will be able to endure.
Be forever dead in Eurydice, and climb back,
climbing praising as you return to connection.
Here, among the disappearing, in the realm of the transient,
be a ringing glass that shatters as it rings.
Be. And, at the same time, know what it is not to be,
the endless ground of your own deep pulse,
so that you can fully experience it just this once.



Comments

Patricia said…
Hello Duchesse, thanks for such a helpful post. A dear friend is undergoing cancer treatment - she has been told that she is on a path to recovery, and I very much hope that it true. Therefore I'm being as supportive as possible (from a distance, I'm in Canada, she in the UK). Still, this is something to be aware of.
Jane in London said…
Oh, wow, this post has impact. Anticipatory grief is something I'm now paddling in, which will probably escalate to wading in more deeply before long. We are all told to 'live in the moment' which may be good counsel in many circumstances. But it does little to help when you know there is something bad that is certain to happen, and which you must bend your mind around if you are to cope adequately when it comes. I suppose it is hardest where, theoretically, there may be the hope of a last-minute wonder drug or remission for the loved one - magical thinking can take over and people feel they must not give up hope, in case they can somehow bring about the desired outcome by sheer force of will. How complicated all this stuff is - thank you for writing this sensitive but clear-eyed piece.
Duchesse said…
Patricia: When hope is strong, the person still needs support, so I am touched you are willing to provide it from a distance.
Duchesse said…
Jane in London: A partner with a seriously ill partner knows the awkwardness of hearing a friend place hope in "new drugs and treatments" when honestly those will not be here in time. My friend Marie died recently, and during her last months another friend, A., simply asked her daughters when she would see them,, "What can we do for Marie right now?" I found that sensitive and realistic, which is A's way but it is also because of her own experience.

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