After more than 30 years in the life, loss and grief field, I have come to learn that there are gifts of both love & loss. We do not often or ever use the word gift when referencing the aftermath of a loss, but they are present.
The gifts of love and loss share many similarities. Both are ever available in everyone’s lives. Both are essential to experience growth of one’s mind. The gifts of both love and loss include acquiring knowledge, the expansion of one’s energy and finding solace of spirit.
There are also many differences. Love, and its gifts, are known, addressed, written about, sung about, spoken about, evoke dance, and paintings. Love is longed for and sought after.
The gifts of loss (yes, they are gifts) are practically unknown, unwritten, unsung, and unspoken. The gifts of loss are hardly thought to evoke dancing or paintings; loss is almost never sought after.
You experience a profound loss. The depth and breadth of the pain can be overwhelming and unimaginable. You probably, on autopilot, call on your go-to coping skills: denial, exercise, drugs, prayer, sex, could be anything. As you are utilizing those coping mechanisms, you may begin to realize that those skills are not completely addressing your mental, emotional and spiritual pain.
In my practice, I have witnessed this common thread after a client has experienced a profound loss. For example, a strong accomplished person may cope with life and therefore trauma by simply powering through, only to find that their familiar practice has abandoned them. My work has shown me that this secondary loss (usually temporary, though it may not feel that way) allows/forces you (choose your verb) to identify and develop new pathways to healing. The time has come to expand your virtual tool chest of coping skills.
I believe that everyone wants to heal, and that not everyone is willing or able to cross unknown, or rather unseen bridges to get to a place of healing.
Envisioning, discovering, creating, developing and offering an array of Bridges Through Bereavement to BlessingsTM has become my life’s work. The recognition and the honoring of the gifts of love and loss are vital to the evolution of our spirits.
The Gifts of the First Rita
In the early eighties, cancer claimed the life of Rita, my friend, mother figure and colleague in her early fifties.
I was in a lot of pain, and I did not know how to soothe it. There is no assigned place for grief in your body, mind and spirit. I didn’t know where to seek solace, support or restore my sense of self. Because Rita and I were not blood related, and she had no official title, such as mother, daughter, or niece, no one seemed to understand what it was like for me to lose someone who had such a special place in my heart.
I was “bereft” although I did not know the right word at the time. I was unaware of anyone doing grief work, or even that such a field existed. I was experiencing disenfranchised grief, which is defined as grief that is not usually socially accepted, such as the loss of a pet, a career, or in my case, a loved one with no direct blood relation.
On a Sunday night, a few months after her passing, I was having dinner with a friend, and thinking I’m not so special. If I feel this way - then other people must feel this way. And I wanted to help them.
My friend said, Oh, you should be a psychologist. You’re always trying to help people. That sounded like a great idea.
I got up the next morning and went down to my alma mater, Hicksville High School. I got a copy of my transcript, and headed to Farmingdale State College. They were signing up for summer school that day, and I found out that Psych 101 was closed out. I didn’t really know what I was going to study, but I thought I’d go for liberal arts as a good foundation.
I went to the dean’s office to ask him to open up another section of it, thinking I was going to see somebody with a tweed jacket, patches on it, a pipe. He was in Birkenstocks and shorts. This was one of the many surprises on my journey. I sat there before him, and asked him to open up another section. He said, Bernadette, just leave the paper and I’ll sign it if enough students request the class.
I sat there. He said, What are you doing? Because I was just sitting there. And I said I’m sitting here until you sign it. Because I was starting school that night. I think he saw that there was a focused, determined woman there in front of him, and so he signed it, and I started classes that night, and it happened that I never stopped until I had a degree.
I was working full-time, and studying around the clock. I had a professor of sociology, a really interesting course. He was a Catholic priest. We got to talking and he asked what I was interested in, why I was taking the course, and I shared my story. He talked to me about social work and how social work was holistic, mind-body-spirit; also, you could practice with a masters, not a doctorate. And I thought - well, that sounds like a good idea.
And then he said to me - you want to be a thanatologist. I said - I do. What’s that? I learned that Thanos was the Greek god of death and dying, and that thanatologists are specialists dedicated to better understanding death, dying, grief, loss, and bereavement.
Now, I had a word, and a direction.
Of course it seemed to me only he and I knew the word.
Soon after, I saw an ad in the penny saver for a local hospice looking for volunteers.
What I did not know then was that it was the first certified hospice in New York state, in its grassroots stage. I went and signed up, and found that I was able to sit with people that were dying, sit with caregivers, and comfort people on the phone. Not only was it not a hardship, but I was good at it, and it was rewarding.
I walked into the office one day, and everyone was upset because Joyce was going on vacation. I said - Who’s Joyce? Joyce was the head of volunteers, she connected people and families with volunteers. It so happened that I was in business, I ran things; I could do that, and I offered to help. One of the things Joyce did every other week was attend meetings with the doctors, all the nurses, the social workers, nutritional dietitians, bereavement specialists and pastoral care; they discussed every patient. It was a great way to learn everything about hospice, and how they were addressing death and dying with the patient, family and friends. That was how I found my way into thanatology, and how I began paving the road to learning how to discover, build and nurture what I now refer to as “Bridges Through Bereavement to Blessings.TM”
It was all because of my first Rita; my first profound loss, and its gifts, in my life.
I describe a profound loss as one with a heart to heart connection between you and what you have lost, such as a person, a pet, or a lifestyle.
Rita respected and liked who I was, and treated me like a daughter. It was beautiful.
When I lost Rita, I had just married. It wasn’t a healthy marriage, and I needed a strong woman to help me through that. Losing Rita was traumatic. It was like losing an anchor. Where we are, developmentally in life, also affects how profoundly a loss is felt.
I did not learn all of that until I was going through it.
I knew it was a big loss, and it was only a couple of months after when I realized that staying in business was no longer interesting or fulfilling because I wanted to do something more meaningful. While there were many, the most impactful gift of loving, and losing Rita, was finding my true path in life.
That’s what happens when you have a profound loss. You rethink everything.
The Gifts of the Second Rita
The second Rita is a blood relative. Rita was my mother’s sister, with whom I had a powerful and secure connection. She also loved and appreciated me for who I am.
Rita died in 2015, and was in her nineties. Her death was anticipated. Because I was able to be present in her life and at her passing, I felt equipped/empowered to make plans for the next phase of my life. I knew that leaving the hospice world and expanding my work would be my next adventure.
I used the time until I opened my private practice to remember, review and honor my time working with three hospices, providing at-home care for people who were dying and bereavement work with children and adults, before I retired from that world.
My private practice is life, loss and grief, which is everything. It’s not just grief, which is big enough as it is. It’s about love.
I’ve been privileged to learn from thousands of clients for more than thirty years.
I’m someone who has to keep growing to stay interested. It’s not being unsatisfied with what I’m doing. It is, instead, a desire to expand, evolve, and to grow. That’s what’s inspiring to me.
This desire is what urged me to write, curate webinars, community presentations, produce and launch my podcast From Heartache to Healing and Hope now in its third season, and build The Telephone of the Wind in Oneonta.
I am blessed with the gifts of love and losses of the Ritas that has allowed me to learn about the beauty of so many bridges, some of which I have had the joy to create, and those that are yet to be discovered.
I invite you to take a moment to explore the Bridges through Bereavement to Blessings TM in your life.
The gifts of love, and loss, are equally real, and equally important to one’s humanity, health and happiness.
Join Bernadette Winters Bell, LMSW, PLLC, and host of the podcast From Heartache to Healing and Hope during a special presentation on The Gifts of Love and Loss, on Valentine’s Day, Feb. 14, at 1 p.m., live on Zoom and Facebook Live.
Visit www.fromheartachetohealingandhope.com to sign up for the newsletter, or RSVP at From Heartache to Healing and Hope on Facebook at www.facebook.com/FromHeartachetoHealingandHope/ to attend the event, and to learn more.
