Grief: The Untold Fairytale

Grief is a funny thing, in the sense that it’s not funny at all, but you need to laugh so that you don’t feel like dying also. And this isn’t grief about a person. This is the grief of the life you don’t have, don’t want anymore, but did once upon a time. The dreams and goals, before life’s curveballs take you in a completely different direction. It’s beyond fantasies – it’s when you are actually in-process of creating that future, and it rips away, and you’re scrambling to readjust, adapt, sort it out.

You move forward, because you have to, and then, eventually, because you want to, and it’s better than you could have imagined. But no one ever talks about allowing your former self the opportunity to grieve for the future you had in mind.

“Be grateful,” everyone says, like sadness isn’t allowed. But if you ignore and refuse to acknowledge that part of you that wanted the relationship to work out, that wanted to live in that house, that you wanted this life you had designed in your mind, that sadness and grief will come up. In the quiet depths of your mind, when you allow yourself that space, it comes up wanting you to say goodbye and make peace with the fact that it did not happen.

It was not failure. It was not a “bad” thing or desire.

You are allowed to change and evolve. None of what you wanted was a lie.

Sometimes, it’s about a romantic relationship; sometimes a familial relationship. Sometimes it’s about a career or travel dream that hasn’t or might not ever come to fruition; sometimes it’s about a sense of stability or childhood that wasn’t experienced the way you wish you had.

When my grandma passed away, I didn’t feel grief the way I thought I would, especially since we were really close – she was my rock and a teacher of the perspective I hold today. Funny enough, I felt her with me more after-the-fact, and when we buried her urn on a trip several months later, the profound grief I felt had very little to do with her, and more to do with the death of a hope of a familial relationship improving. My grandma was the glue that held us together, and with her passing, that relationship was no longer the same. I was grieving aspirations of us spending time together, of sweet reminiscing, of teamwork and closeness, of a similar relationship to the one they had with each other. I was grieving, and in turn, making peace with what wouldn't become reality.

A different example that might resonate more for you would be when a romantic relationship ends. The day before I attended a Vipassana (a 10-day silent retreat – no talking/writing/reading, no exercise or music), for the first time in a few years, I drove through the tiny, mountain town where I lived with a previous partner. Mentally, I was immediately transported six years prior, to the day I moved there for us to continue our journey together. It was the same weather, same lighting; it was déjà vu at its finest.

At first, it was a fleeting thought of how much I had changed in those 6 years, how different things were, and how surreal it was being back in that area. During the Vipassana, when we were only meditating, eating, sleeping, and thinking, the aspect of grief was one of several main themes I was reflecting on - it wasn't what I loved or had or wanted anymore, but I had once upon a time, and it's okay for us to honour that previous desire/life/aspect of our previous selves.

He was my middle school sweetheart. I had just finished my coaching certification and was building my business, while he worked on advancing in his career. We had plans, and they were fantastic and beautiful. And then, the cracks started to show. Doubt and confusion crept in, as what we appreciated so much in the other person was too different from what made either of us feel safe. But our future was certain! From when we were 11 years old, chasing after each other on the baseball diamonds, and over 10 years later, we were making it a reality! Living together, building together! But as we both worked towards our future, our differences became evident.

And that’s perfectly okay.

I am so profoundly grateful the relationship I was in didn’t work for the both of us. Grateful to have experienced travels and moves I wouldn’t have been able to. Grateful for who I became in the process. Grateful it gave him the freedom to live life the way he wanted and move somewhere I wouldn’t have wanted to.

When that relationship ended, it wasn’t just the relationship that was lost, but part of our future identity. At least until the shock wore off, and the future could be reimagined. It’s the same as when a layoff at a company happens, or an unexpected move, or a sickness/accident happens, and we acclimate: it’s a shock. As humans, we have the power of critical thinking, which has us thinking of possibilities, outcomes, and futures before they actually exist.

When a miscarriage or infertility happens, it’s not only grieving the loss of a child, but the grief of all those emotions, possibilities, future, and sometimes the grief of not being a parent at all. While adoption and fostering are incredible options, there are some who do crave the psychological experience of creating a child, and when that possibility fades, there’s grief.

In today’s world, it’s almost like being sad isn’t allowed, or if a person experiences sadness, they must be depressed. When someone’s sad, there’s rarely a space for “that sucks. How can I be of best support?” The go-tos are “At least you have ______.” Or a platitude of sympathy, whether false or real, before the person disappears, because of their own uncomfortability or denial of sadness. Like the film, “Inside Out,” every emotion has its time and purpose.

Grief is the fairytale you weren’t told about. As Andrew Garfield says, "Grief is unexpressed love. so express it." It’s the opportunity to recognize the stages we go through. It’s the opportunity to get in touch with and love every uncomfortable and ‘dark’ aspect of ourselves. By recognizing what we lost, we can then begin to recognize what we’ve gained in the process. When we grieve, we are experiencing the profound power of our emotions, and our capacity to love and hope. Our emotions don’t limit us. However deep your grief goes, you also have that same capacity for joy. When the original ‘fairytale’ ends, allow yourself the space and presence to say goodbye to that future, refocus on who you are as a result, and recreate one that serves you better- the 'you' you are now, and the 'you' you want to be now. And when that grief is too strong in the moment, act as if it’s a year from now, and you’re writing to yourself today about everything that happened in that year (example: If it’s Oct 1, 2023, writing as if it’s 2024 and detailing everything in-between that time period) - everything you've experienced, everything you're grateful for that occurred as a result of that future not coming to fruition. If dealing with a loss of a child, this exercise may be especially challenging, so start with that you recognize your capacity for love is massive, and the ways you've honoured that love.

Grief is the beginning of your next fairytale, not the end.