How to live through the Fall Season of Grief
Photo by Alex Geerts
It’s Fall. Excuse me for stating the obvious. But sometimes our grief is not as obvious to others when the season is full of vibrancy and celebrated change. Due to our loss we are trying desperately to adjust to changes we never signed up for. If anyone is a little too cheery, we might find ourselves slinking back into our shadows, trying to self-soothe the pain.
When you can’t see the colors
So what does the Fall season teach us about our grief? Nearly all across the nation, vibrant fall colors catch people’s attention, sometimes skipping a heartbeat for the sheer beauty of it all. But not for us. At least not for some of us. Our senses are dimmed, as if an internal rheostat turned down the illumination of life all around us. This seasonal interlude between the heat of summer and the chill of winter lacks luster, appeal, awe, and notice. For us, the season of our personal pain interferes greatly with the physical capacity to see, hear, and feel the vibrancy of Autumn.
You are not alone
Would you allow me, a fellow grief-path traveler, to share some of my memories of living numb and mute, in the shadows of my pain? You are not alone. This season of grief for me happened in the late Summer and early Fall (around 7 months after our son’s death). Food had little flavor or appeal. The beauty of nature appeared dim and uninspiring. Color that would have normally attracted me, went unnoticed. I called that time my “despair of sadness.” Numb and listless, I stepped through the days with a deep ache that nothing could soothe.
Hope through change
If you find yourself disengaged with others, nature, and even yourself I want to give you hope. The thing about seasons is that they change. Slowly, the summer heat subsides, Fall breezes and gentle cleansing showers refresh the dry, dusty environment. Fall offers a season of reflection with our grief. We might find ourselves with a little more time to cozy up with our journal pages or your Comfort for the Day book. Sweaters come out, along with scarves and boots. And eventually, the rain or snow take over. (I know some places this Fall have already been deep in snow.) The change in the seasons, assures us that our grief will change too. But grief is different than seasons in that we can make choices that will help us grieve through each change with intentionality. Seasons don’t have that choice.
Coming to life again
Winter changes things up again. Much of nature goes dormant. There is a waiting. And the cycle continues until we have moved through each season of the calendar. Likewise, our season of malaise, despair, reflection, growth, or waiting will also merge into a different season of grief. I can’t say what the next one will be for you, but I can let you know that IF you pay attention to this season, find new ways to interact with the numbing pain, releasing your emotions by expressing your heart and tough stuff on paper, you will move forward. Try some art, a new hobby, or even gardening, and you will one day realize that a bird’s trill ignites something in your soul. You heard it with your heart. You will notice that food has more flavor, and music is joyously pleasing. You will discover the previous disengagement has been overtaken by genuine interest in the lives of others around you.
The hope of the seasons
Sometimes just knowing that grief has its seasons helps. It’s like gathering a little blanket of comfort and hope that we will not remain stuck in the current “despair of sadness.” If you take note of the rosy cheeks of a child who just came in from frolicking in the leaves, be encouraged deep inside, your grief is changing and you will move past muted tones, muffled laughter, or mild flavors.
© Karen Nicola/Comfort for the Day 2020
