Just when I thought all was going so well — moods not swinging, health as good as can be — when, all of a sudden: POW! that old feeling of doom and heartache. Hadn’t 40-odd years of depression run their course?
Turning to meditation, swiftly brought me face to face with the sensation deep within my chest. Shallow breaths barely sank below the surface before encountering a solid wall without a draw bridge in sight.
The late Stephen Levine, known for his work on death and dying, described what was going on —
“Along the path of healing that leads into the heart, one is called upon to examine grief. Grief is the binding alloy of the armoring about the heart. Like a fire touched, the mind recoils at losing what it holds most dear. As the mind contracts about its grief, the spaciousness of the heart often seems very distant.” [1]
What so depressed my heart that it would crawl behind a wall of granite? What’s going on, I wondered, who or what is this wall protecting? Feeling my way — breath by breath — into the dense obstruction brought no relief. Let go of trying, I told myself, welcome whatever you encounter. Try not to solve or fix. Face into the dark for “within darkness there is light, but do not look for that light.” [2]
Soon afterwards a clinical term fell into my lap: anticipatory grieving*.
“At its most basic, anticipatory grief is feeling grief from the knowledge that a loved one is dying. Imagining it so vividly that you feel that grief now. … This is a uniquely human capacity, to imagine the future, to create the virtual reality of bereavement in our own mind as though it were true,” writes neuroscientist Mary-Frances O’Connor. “With anticipatory grief, you may start experiencing signs of grieving even if you haven’t quite faced the loss yet.” [3]
All his concerns my brother and sister-in-law (mentioned before) who, each in their own way, are disappearing into dementia-land. So, not dying yet, but as good as.
[1] (1991). Guided meditations, explorations, and healing, p. 235. [2] A line from Sandōkai by Sekito Kisen (700–790), a fundamental text of the Sōtō school of Zen, chanted daily in temples throughout the world. [3] (2022). The Grieving Brain.
Dearest Peter. Thank you for naming that feeling! It makes so much sense. I am surrounded by loved ones who will soon be gone. We live with Cancer, Parkinsons, dementia and old age. I frequently feel between two worlds somehow. Greiving what is to come. It is a heavy burden, yet there is peace in knowing the suffering will end. Sending light and love to you, and all who are reading today.
I heard anticipatory grief mentioned by a woman whose husband has dementia – her husband, she says, is dead to her yet his body still exists. Now she has to care for a man who isn’t who she’s been living with for the past many years. Her grief is multi layered, coupled with guilt, anger, remorse. It is a complicated mix of emotion that we weave in our life. It seems to me as we age, we may be active and involved, yet lingering in the shadow of our life is our friend death, taking more shape. To befriend death takes courage, to face the loss of both our loved ones and ourselves. Thank you for this P, helps soften sadness and chip away at the protective layers.
this phrase is so good – moods not swinging