Our friend Sherry told us about the lecture at Town Hall and I wasn't sure that it was going to be a good fit. Would it be all counselors attending and be insensitive to those actually grieving in the audience? Would violent death bereavement fit our situation? Is it something we can handle going to and want to spend our evening doing on what also happened to be our anniversary?
So, we went, and it was interesting, sad, and meaningful. In most violent death the bereaved family members were not present, so ours is a little different. Whether it's better or worse to imagine the circumstances of their death or actually experience them first hand seems not to matter. Most violent, sudden death is not of natural causes, so Lev's attack by the meningococcal bacteria isn't a typical scenario. But it was sudden, without warning or a chance to say goodbye and fit into "unnatural death" in every other sense of the phrase.
One thing I have been thinking about after the lecture that isn't in the excerpts, besides whether I should go to a traumatic bereavement group, is the idea of a golden string connecting us to life, to some sort of potentially positive future. He spoke of working with inmates and the difficulty in finding the golden string with many of them, but for most others they can find a connection or have established connections that keep them going. I see it as a little ray of hope, or goodness left in the world. I realized that for me Jaal has been my golden string. He's been the string that kept me from jumping off the balcony, the string that lets me enjoy making cookies, bringing a bit of hope and happiness. I am also hoping that this baby will be another golden string, a bit of hope and goodness tying me to this world and our future.
Below are the excerpts:
In our view, it would be misleading to promise short-term answers to something so overwhelming. Instead we emphasize that one should not be burdened by the expectation that they will quickly recover. Recovery suggests regaining who you were before the death. You will probably be changed by this event and will spend the rest of your life accommodating to what has happened; unnatural dying of a friend or family member is the sort of life change that will change you.
The Uniqueness of Unnatural Dying
When someone close dies, it is natural to mourn their loss—to think of them with sorrow and miss their presence in your life. If they died from a natural death (from disease or old age), then the dying would be understandable. One could understand what was going wrong in their body and why they couldn't be saved — and if the natural dying went on for weeks, months, or years, you would have time to adjust to what was happening. There would have been a role for yourself in the story of their dying while you tried to save them and when you and the doctors could no longer prevent death, you could say goodbye knowing you had done everything in your power to keep them alive. And they would not have died alone – you would have been there with them.
This is not the case with unnatural dying; when someone close dies an unnatural death, you not only mourn their loss but are forced to adjust to the unnatural way that they died. It is a double blow: not only have they died, but the way they died is senseless. Unnatural dying is abrupt, and traumatic and the victim was alone – separated from friends and family. There is no time for caring or a goodbye.
There seem to be at least two distinct reactions to unnatural dying: the first and most primary is traumatic distress to the unnatural dying and a second, underlying response is separation distress to the loss of the relationship.
Death of a child — Perhaps the strong separation and trauma distress after the unnatural death of a child is associated with the strong care taking and nurturing assumptions that form a basis of such a relationship. The child had a vulnerable dependency upon all members of the family when they were tiny; most particularly, the parents or sometimes parent "substitutes" such as grandparents, older siblings, or aunts or uncles. Because of the underlying attachment and strong sense of responsibility for the child, their unnatural death at any age may cause not only intense trauma and separation distress, but a sense of somehow failing the obligation of protecting the child from harm. The persistent belief that "I somehow could have prevented this from happening" is especially intense after the death of a child.
There is no definitive treatment for bereavement after an unnatural death. Beware of anyone who claims certainty about what should or should not be done. Respect the uniqueness of your own response and search out the sort of support that meets your own needs. With the sensitive encouragement of family, friends, work associates, and spiritual support, most individuals will spontaneously improve. Their distress will linger for many years (particularly at commemorative times — birthdays, anniversaries, or the specific time of the year when the person died) but these responses of distress will no longer be so intense nor so preoccupying and the memory of the deceased will be more tranquil and positive.
With time or mental health intervention, you can count on the direction and purpose of your own life continuing beyond this tragedy. Eventually you will recall the memory of your loved one without being overwhelmed by trauma or separation distress and you will view your future as meaningful and hopeful.
... I dreamt last night of my step-sister Chrystal again. She died suddenly of a yet unexplained heart stoppage at age 33, about 4 years ago. In the dream we were camping, a whole bunch of family in a big campground. We had trouble finding our site, as nothing was labeled and we circled around and around. We found it and began to set up camp, but Chrystal was walking somewhere around the large and confusing campground, unable to find us. I went out searching, unsure of the best strategy, not sure we'd be able to find her that night. I woke up still searching, with the dream unresolved. I think about her and her family often as I deal with our own loss.
