Grief Without Heroes: Finding Meaning Beyond the Monomyth
/ Understanding Grief : Litsa
One of my favorite grief memoirs is Wave by Sonali Deraniyagala. Fair warning: this is not a book for the faint-hearted. Sonali's entire family—her husband, parents, and two children—died while they were on a holiday in Sri Lanka. I know some criticize when people say, "I can’t imagine," to a griever, arguing it implies, "I am not willing to try to imagine." But guess what—I can’t imagine. I've read her staggering memoir; I have lost my breath reading her story and trying to imagine myself in her place. And still, I cannot imagine. It is incomprehensible.
I'm not alone in my admiration for this book. It was named one of the New York Times Book Review's "Top Ten Books of the Year." Michael Ondaatje called it, "the most powerful and haunting book I have read in years." Yet the review I most remember was one I read just after finishing the book. I went on Amazon to leave a five-star rating and happened to see a one-star review. The reviewer accused the book of being "a story without hope," going on to sanctimoniously proclaim, "there is always hope."
I remember feeling that unresolvable ire that only an internet comment section can bring. A story without hope? Are you kidding me? This woman lost her entire family in a natural disaster. She was with them when it happened. She survived, put her heart-wrenching grief into words, and wrote a book about it, and you think it isn’t HOPEFUL enough?
The Hero’s Journey
Grief therapist and author Bob Neimeyer suggests that in Western society and pop culture the arc of the "hero’s journey" has defined our myths and narratives about grief. As human beings, we are storytellers. Across time, age, race, religion, and culture, it is well-documented that we communicate and connect through stories. Stories help us make sense of the world and remember things. And there is no question that the "hero’s journey" Neimeyer mentions is one of the most common and reassuring narrative arcs.
Masterclass’s Writing 101: What Is the Hero’s Journey? describes the hero’s journey as "a common narrative archetype, or story template, that involves a hero who goes on an adventure, learns a lesson, wins a victory with that newfound knowledge, and then returns home transformed." Joseph Campbell claimed that all mythological narratives share this "monomyth" structure. It is no wonder this arc feels familiar and comforting. It is both painful and hopeful, and perhaps most importantly, it is what we have come to expect.
Do a quick inventory of nursery rhymes and fairy tales - it's the hero’s journey, again and again. Some of our most famous films and books—Star Wars, The Lion King, The Matrix, Harry Potter, Lord of the Rings, Pride and Prejudice—again, hero’s journeys.
The Griever’s Journey
With this ever-present narrative template in mind, I shouldn’t be surprised by the Wave reviewer's grievances. Our social beliefs about grief align with a singular arc. Consider "the 5 stages of grief". Despite the many (many) other grief theories, personal experiences, and grief research that contradict “the 5 stages”, the theory persists in society and pop culture. Why? One theory is that it is appealing to people because it fits grief into the familiar 'monomyth' structure.
Many of our most beloved grief memoirs—The Year of Magical Thinking, Wild, When Breath Becomes Air, H is for Hawk—are hero’s journeys. In their stories, yes, grief is dark, ugly, and messy. But as readers, we suffer along with the authors to be rewarded with their learning, growth, and transformation. Even the symbols associated with grief - rainbows and butterflies - are predicated on a transformation narrative.
When I revisited the negative Amazon reviews for this article, to find the one I remembered about the story lacking "hope," I read through others. The review that had stuck with me was not the only one seeking a hero's journey:
“While I feel for the author and what she went through, the book hopefully did her some good getting all her feelings off her chest. But it did nothing for me the reader except bring me down and keep me down. No life lessons at the end, no resolution of her grief or depression and definitely no happy ending. Will keep her in my prayers as several years later it seems she still can't move on much and is still dealing with her demons. Would not recommend to anyone”
“This book is one of those that you pick up with an excitement of reading (especially when you were recommended) and slowly find yourself skipping some lines, paragraphs, then pages asking yourself "so what? Where is it going? When are you going to be done being resentful and angry and tell me what I expected to learn from you?"
“This book is a study in grief and not the good kind. It should have been a journal, kept for private reflection and shared with a few close friends. I understand the book is based on actual events and the author's reponse to those events but I see no reason to share her grief with us readers. She does not show any growth. She has not yet learned how to move away from her grief, how to live a full life with her losses.”
“I bought this book, as I have others, after the loss of our son, in the hope I could learn something from it. Find a way to make sense of a terrible loss that has seemed random and pointless.
However, this author seems unable to deliver any insight into loss. There’s no examination of her feelings, no growth between the first page and the last? Did the author change? Did the book show any evidence she had learned anything between the beginning of the book and the end? Come to any conclusions? Is there any guidance to be found in the pages of this book?
I have read this book three times and my answers to these questions are “no”.
Ms. Deraniyagala states that her therapist encouraged her to write as therapy and this book is the result of that writing. Therefore, I don’t ask why this book was written, but why was it published? This book is a lament. It is the recording of a horrifically tragic event, and from that point of view, it has worth, but beyond that I see little or no value of the book as something that would be chosen to be made public . . .
At the end of the book, all I can think is that the writer had a wonderful, perfect life before the tragedy of the tsunami which took the lives of a quarter of a million people, then afterward she had great difficulty dealing with her life and the aftermath of the tragedy as it affected her. That is all. Where is her horror and sorrow for the others who died, also? Where is the saving grace? Where is the reason for the book? Where is her courage and development? Can we learn anything from her experience of this tragedy? Does this book offer us any guidance? Any knowledge?”
Rather than fly off the handle and declare these reviewers objectively wrong, I've shifted to approaching them from the very Zen 'place of curiosity'. From here, I think they offer us more social and cultural insight about grief. They speak to our culture's often-limited idea of what makes a grief story worth telling. Each suggests that a story is told for the sake of its reader, not its author; they are unified around a desire for growth, meaning, and transformation.
Can we really blame them? We’ve been fed so many hero’s journeys that we’ve come to expect them. Demand them.
But Wave is not a hero’s journey. It is a griever’s journey— real, honest, raw, and messy, with no clear arc of transformation. The takeaway from these one-star reviews: without that arc, your story isn’t worth sharing.
You may think, oh well, no big deal—this criteria just means a few bad reviews and fewer grief stories in the world. But this editing of which grief stories are worth telling then narrows our idea of what grief is, or what it is supposed to be. And if we put those pressures on the grief stories of others, we run the risk of putting them on our own grief stories.
A Grief Hero’s Journey
Many who choose to tell their grief story do so because they feel their story has found the requisite arc. Now, of course, there is no traditional "happy ending" in a grief memoir - there is no possibility of returning home to their loved one. But they almost always have what I'll call the "grief-happy ending": they found meaning in their loss. They have experienced some grand insight or transformation—the coveted "post-traumatic growth" or perhaps a spiritual awakening. They have learned lessons so significant that they are worth writing. When their arc matches the hero’s journey, they feel confident they have a story worth telling.
As humans, the hero’s journey is already a narrative paradigm. As grievers, when the vast majority of grief stories we consume follow this same hopeful arc, we measure our own story against it. We start to believe that if we don't start a memorial charity, celebrate our own growth, or turn into a butterfly, we are failing at grief.
This matters, especially in early grief. Sometimes we emerge from under the boulder of early grief long enough to hear people say how important it is to find this "meaning," and it feels as far off as turning a frog into a prince. It leaves many of us wanting to crawl back into the darkness and give up hope.
One of the things I love about Wave is that it quietly defies the arc of the hero’s journey. It shows us hope through another lens.
(M)eaning
If you’ve been thinking of crawling back under that boulder, stick with me for a moment. I have a belief—one grounded in my own grief and years of working with grievers—that we’ve got meaning all wrong. These heroes' journeys and grief narratives have laid out a romanticized path of grand transformations and spiritual awakenings. But that is only one path. Meaning comes in countless shapes, many of which happen in the everyday living of life after loss.
Pauline Boss, the mother of ambiguous grief theory and research, says, "Human experience is meaningful when it is comprehensible to those who are having the experience."
For me, it might be the most important thing anyone has ever said about finding meaning in grief.
When we hear the word "meaning," we often hear it with a capital M. We assume it has to do with finding some greater purpose, some grand significance. Many grievers who share their stories in public-facing ways—in memoirs and podcasts, documentaries and films—do find "Meaning". I am glad for those who find it and I see why it makes their stories so appealing to tell.
(m)eaning
But for many of us, finding meaning in grief happens with a lowercase m.
When you lose someone, your personal narrative can feel torn to shreds. You can’t comprehend how this happened, who you are in the world, how you will possibly put one foot in front of the other and go on. There is so much that feels impossible to make sense of or put into words. It is, in every way, incomprehensible.
Then slowly, hour by hour, week by week, year by year, we begin to reconstruct the story of what has happened. We start to recognize who we were before this loss and who we are now. Slowly we see that we are in a constant state of becoming, shaped by grief and shaping our grief. We begin the slow process of mapping this new world without them, finding the words that make our story comprehensible. Maybe not to everyone else; maybe not to anyone else. But comprehensible to us.
It is not only in the happy ending of a hero’s journey or a transformational arc that we should look for meaning. It is in the storytelling itself. "Human experience is meaningful when it is comprehensible to those who are having the experience." The hope lies in our ability to keep breathing, to keep pulling ourselves out of bed in the morning despite the crushing weight of grief, and the perseverance required to slowly begin making the incomprehensible life we are living a comprehensible one.
All of this is to say, your grief may not take the shape of the hero’s journey. That’s ok—your grief is not made meaningful based on whether it birthed a personal transformation or not. You may eventually find meaning there—I hope you do.
But if that feels far off or impossible, that’s ok. Meaning is in the storytelling itself.
"Human experience is meaningful when it is comprehensible to those who are having the experience."
It requires incredible hope and strength to keep going after loss, pulling yourself out of bed in the morning despite the crushing weight of grief. It takes immense perseverance to make your incomprehensible grief story into a comprehensible one. That, in and of itself, is meaningful. Some might even call it heroic.
We invite you to share your experiences, questions, and resource suggestions with the WYG community in the discussion section below.
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Padma August 21, 2024 at 7:21 pm
Thank you for this timely article. I have been struggling with this for last 3 years since my only child, my son Kunal passed away at the age of 25 and I found nothing helped, the books, my grief counselor even asked me if I wanted to start charitable foundation!. I tried volunteering and tutoring because Kunal had a passion for reading, but it did not fell like it brings any purpose or meaning to my life. This article and the comments so far gave me the much-needed perspective.
Laurie August 24, 2024 at 7:37 pm
Hi Padma. I’m so sorry that you lost your son. How terrible. I was always afraid to have children because I knew that if anything happened to them, I would just curl up and die. I lost my husband three years ago this September and I don’t have any other family members except my older sister who’s very ill and I understand what you mean about not even wanting to get out of bed or not caring about things. I’ve tried grief counseling, grief groups, I’m still in one on one counseling three times a week, and nothing seems to help. I’m going to try moving out of this house and actually away from this part of the country and go back to the town where I grew up where all my friends are. That’s the only thing I can think of, but it means I have to leave my sister. She has others to take care of her, but that’s going to be difficult. Anyway, I just wanted to say that I’m so, so sorry and I hope you can find some reason to to go on. The more you love, the more it hurts! 💖😪
Mark August 21, 2024 at 7:59 am
Mark
This is a very interesting article. Two points I would add. Firstly another M word namely motivation. Since mum died from Dementia I do voluntary work in that field, using my knowledge and skills acquired through seven years of caring. Nothing to do with meaning, everything to do with helping other carers as others previously helped me. Nothing heroic just ordinary guy helping out. Secondly I think this attachment to the heroic journey story line explains much of how society deals with those in grief. Pull yourself together, move on, life is to short, get over it, etc, are all manifestations of the heroic journey. Heroes are above feelings are they not……
It is very true to say that grief is a journey. Someone else commented that it is like a wound. It will heal to a degree but you will always carry a scar. Over three years since mum died, the raw grief has abated but the sense of loss and feeling incomplete remains. I now realise that is the price of losing someone you deeply love. The loss is real, I am now incomplete, but I live on and try to honour her good name because of enduring love not the search for meaning.
Anyone reading this is going through grief at some level. My simple message is grief is a very individual experience. Forget about the five steps, or any other all embracing theory on how to deal with it. Accept it will lessen over time but never completely go away. It is part of your life story. How you embrace it, how you move forward, what is important to you, etc, that is the story you write and live. Grief will change overtime but it will remain part of your life and that is okay no matter what others may say. Life is for ordinary people not heroes. My very best wishes to you all.
Linda H August 22, 2024 at 5:55 am
I felt very judgmental when i read the ‘bad’ reviews of what seems to me to be a remarkable book. I was incandescant at the apparent lack of compassion from these reviewers. I understand more after reading your initial essay. Thank you for your enlightenment.
I am grieving my beloved husband who died at 70yrs from the complications of Dementia. last April. We had been married for 52yrs and the pain of his loss is hard to bear at times.
Hope sometimes feels so far out of reach that I Just want to go to be with him. I think I will buy this book thank you.
Laurie August 24, 2024 at 7:43 pm
Hi Linda. I just wanted to tell you how sorry I am that you lost your husband. Dementia is the worst disease imaginable in my opinion. I lost my mom to vascular dementia in 2011 and then in 2017 my husband had a sudden psychotic break which turned out to be from something called Lewy body dementia with Parkinson’s and he was completely psychotic for four years and then he died from complications due to pneumonia from Covid, and he was also starting to choke on his food anyway from the Parkinson’s. We had only been married for 23 years and that wasn’t nearly enough because he was my reason for living. It sounds like you feel the same way about your husband and I’m hoping that both of us can find some reason to go on. Right now I have to stay alive because my older sister is ill with, of course, Alzheimer’s and she also has lupus. I guess, in a way, you’re lucky to have had 50 years, but I’m sure that makes the pain that much deeper because you’ve spent almost your whole life with that person. (And I don’t mean to suggest that you’re lucky! I just mean it’s wonderful that you guys got to have so many years together.) I still can’t believe Bob is gone. My heart goes out to you. I know we will be with our sweethearts again. That’s what I hang onto. Take care. 💖😪
Isla August 22, 2024 at 5:36 pm
Thank you for this, Mark. I’m sorry about your loss. It’s a testament to both your love for her, and her love as a mother, that you’ve translated great pain into helping other people and honouring her memory.
My dad died on Monday of heart failure. He was 85. I’m heartbroken and racked with guilt. I’m a full time carer to my mother, his wife, who is 80 and very frail. She has dementia. I had a complicated relationship with my dad. We fought, we laughed, we talked politics and fought some more, but we never talked feelings. We were never physically demonstrative as adults. We were very close when I was a kid, but I grew into a prickly and very troubled teen and young woman, and we never recaptured that closeness. For some reason I clammed up emotionally and never felt I could show softness or be weak with him. Even towards the end when I knew he was ill, I still kept things brisk and, in hindsight, horrifyingly impersonal. I can’t make any excuses for myself. He was my rock of sanity, and I never told him I loved him. Maybe because I feel like I’d been circling the abyss for the last few years, and to stop and dwell on feelings at any point might have crippled me completely.
I gave my softness and soft words to my mum. Dad always seemed invincible, even though I knew we were all closing in on terrible loss with the passing of the years. Subconsciously I thought that mum would go first I think.
So now it’s just me and mum and enough guilt to bury me in. I don’t know how I’m going to cope alone and we are very isolated, because she’s housebound and I can’t go out and risk bringing Covid back to her. I’m dreading the future, because she’s now all I have. There’s no other family.
I’m in the dark here, but thank you, sincerely, for pointing out a possible way back into the world if I’m strong enough to get there. I think helping other people might be the only thing that helps me when I find myself alone.
Mark August 24, 2024 at 10:26 am
Dear Isla
Thank you for your kind words said in your very difficult current circumstances. We are strangers but I could not just pass on by without replying. Please accept my comments are said with the very best of intentions.
Please try to let go of the guilt. Regret is part of being alive but try to keep it a small part. You are lovingly caring for your mum, something your dad would be very grateful for. He was aware of that loving care whilst he was alive and I am sure would have been grateful in his heart, even if that was not communicated directly to you. We cannot change past events where the loved one is no longer here. I wish I had told mum more times how much I loved her, but I think my actions spoke the unsaid words. Your caring role does the same I suggest. Try not to listen to that voice of the internal critic, or at least balance it with a reminder of the good you have done and continue to do.
I cannot advise to much as each person’s grief experience is unique to them. Are there any friends or neighbours you can turn to at this time for human contact? My path might work for you at the appropriate time but, please remember it took me several years to start to develop my path in a meaningful way. My initial grief was intense, increased by the isolation of COVID lock downs. I found writing down my experiences and feelings, reading and meditation helped me the most initially. Perhaps you could write down what you wish you had said to your dad. There is something that eases intense emotions if we get them down on paper. I was dubious when I first read that via this website, but it did do me a lot of good. Your private journal, no one else sees it and you do not have to keep reading it. Just writing your thoughts and feelings down it seems is the key.
Sorry I can only offer words, which always seem inadequate. I guess it is the sentiment in which they are said that is important. Thank you for caring for our mum, as one carer to another. Dementia caring I suggest is he toughest, with so many emotional as well as physical demands. I close in wishing you well for the future.
Mark
Laurie August 24, 2024 at 7:57 pm
Hi Isla. I’m so sorry to hear about the loss of your father. I hope you don’t mind me commenting on your feelings of guilt. I just wanted to let you know that I, too, suffer from so many different kinds of guilt with various relationships in my life. I had a lot of trauma growing up and I didn’t even know I was an emotional mess until after my husband became psychotic from Lewy body dementia with Parkinson’s, and he was ill for four years, and then died, and looking back, I realized that our lack of intimacy was entirely my fault, and it stemmed from various reasons in my childhood. Anyway, I, too, was never emotionally connected to my dad and I have always blamed him because he never spoke to me or picked me up when I was a kid and then he left and married someone else when I was 10. But I found out just a few years ago that when I was very small, he apparently tried to pick me up and hold me, and my mom would scream at him to put me down. She had psychological issues. Anyway, I feel terrible now that I never tried to get close to my dad later in life. I thought he hated me. Anyway, I understand guilt because I’m very prone to it, but as you know, it doesn’t do any good. So here’s the question I ask myself every time I start beating myself up: did I do it on purpose to hurt the other person? if the answer is no, then I know I need to stop it because clearly we cannot control what we are not aware of. I know it sounds trite, but maybe you can try to focus on the positive aspects of your relationship with your dad. And you talked about helping people, but look what you’re doing for your mom. My mom had dementia also, but we had to put her in a facility because I had chronic fatigue syndrome at the time and my older sister has lupus. Now my sister has Alzheimer’s also,, so here’s my third go-around with dementia. It’s so draining and it’s so wonderful of you to care for your mom like that. It’s really a labor of love and you are a warrior. I hope you can love yourself and I wish for both of us that we can get rid of this guilt. You know, only kind people feel guilty. We need to remember that. Take care of yourself , and remember you can only help others if you take good care of yourself first. I’m terrible at that too. 😊 I hope I don’t sound preachy. I don’t mean to be. P. S. My dad died in January 2021 of Covid and complications from hip and heart surgery. He fell (I live 1800 miles from where I grew up, so I was nowhere near him.) and his four stepsons neglected to call me and tell me. they claimed they couldn’t find my phone number! They took him to the hospital and at age 93 had him undergo heart surgery and hip surgery because the surgeon said he probably wouldn’t live through the hip surgery otherwise. They didn’t even have power of attorney! I was his only next of kin. They called me two days before he passed to tell me he was dying and he had pneumonia and couldn’t even talk. I don’t even even know if he heard me on the phone or not. I don’t know why I’m telling you this, but I guess I just wanted to tell someone who loved their dad. Wouldn’t it be great if we could do our lives over knowing what we know now? But I know you will see your dad again, and he has already forgiven you everything. By the way, for a while while I was doing some volunteer tutoring and it did help me a bit. Right now I’m too tired dealing with my sister, but I think I will do that in the future. Again, take care of yourself. 💖😪🦋
J. Paul Everett August 18, 2024 at 4:22 am
This thought is not original with me. It was promulgated by a mining engineer named Oswald Swallow from South Africa who attended the Creative Problem Solving institute in Buffalo, NY for many years as did I. He gave the following definition for Purpose:
Purpose is:
Meaning
Made Important
All Depending on You.
Meaning is Difference. The Difference that some thing (like a cup) or some one makes in the specific context just now.
Made Important; We make something or some one important by focusing or giving our life’s time, just now.
All Depending On You: You feel that the needed outcome is your responsibility and you give it your attention and life’s time.
I have personally found his teaching to be a powerful thought throughout my life since I learned it. It is especially important in long-term relationships. I am 87. My brilliant and soulful wife of 60 years died July 6, 2022. My grief is deep and profound. No other way to say it right now.
Michael Ferguson August 17, 2024 at 11:08 pm
I have literary hung on to your newsletters and website for the three years since my love or my life, took her own. Pauline Ross’s quote about human experience is meaningful has been a real revelation for me. I am eternally grateful for this message, and all your others, as they have been a major ministry for me, and has kept me here in this mortal coil far longer than I would have on my own. You, and the tribe, are lovely hearts with feet.
Jen August 17, 2024 at 8:40 pm
I really appreciate this article. It’s something I have been struggling with, but didn’t really know how to put into words – something I’ve been encountering more, now that I am reading more grief stuff in social media – this tendency to have to make a grief story or any kind of suffering story redemptive or transformative or heroic or transcendent. I have had many death losses, and I have also had about twenty five years of lived experiences with family with brain disorders and use disorders, and just THAT story has been full of repeated and non-transcendent grief and suffering experiences. Early on I was sure that we’d get it figured out and transcend all that. I used to be inspired and motivated by making my story heroic. I’m not any more. It is one of the ways that I have been changed by my suffering. I do believe it has made me more humble and compassionate, because it has made me realize that I exist on a human continuum of suffering experiences. And that long suffering takes a toll on a human. I agree with the point of the article: just telling the story is enough. Surviving is enough. Thank you.
Laurie August 17, 2024 at 7:50 pm
Wow, I think this needs to be published! You are such an excellent writer and this is filled with so much wisdom and so many profound thoughts, and it speaks to me so deeply. Although I haven’t read the book, I suspect that, in its own way, your analysis of it is as deep as the book itself. Thank you so much for this. I really needed to hear it right now. I think as a culture we are so focused on the goal rather than the journey that our experiences get minimized unless they lead to something, but as you point out, it’s the experience itself that ultimately matters.
Jean August 17, 2024 at 6:45 pm
Your article regarding society’s expectations for people with loss to experience a hero’s journey was one of the best I’ve read in the past 8 years of searching for meaning. I can’t thank you enough for providing this extremely helpful and supportive perspective on grief and loss. It reminded me of book by Megan Devine, “It’s Okay That You’re Not Okay”. I appreciate how you were willing to challenge the “arc” our stories of grief and loss are supposed to take. If they don’t, we are considered ‘stuck’ or to have Prolonged Grief Disorder. Thank you for having the courage to support Sonali’s book, Wave. I read it, and felt she was so very courageous to ‘tell it like it is’.
Diane August 17, 2024 at 6:08 pm
I have always looked for answers/ always thought I had to do more to honor their loss! My husband now 16 years gone ( at a young 53) and then my youngest daughter( going on 7 years)!
A parent should never have to bury their child!
I have those ‘ moments’ still and I’m realizing there is no end to grief it just comes in waves and at the most unexpected times! And perhaps for no particular reason other than it is just that… learning to get up everyday/ function without them to love/ mourn the short cut years they were given / and wonder why I was chosen to continue on! This is the first time I can identify w the explanation! I too agree the scenarios where the meaning is found and the tribute is brought to fruition make me feel I have short changed their lives. I live every day in an attempt to talk about them by name / usually making others uncomfortable but for me it is a way of defining their legacy and acknowledging they did exist! I am always grateful for the years I had w them / humbled by their struggles/ and always hopeful to take the years I have left and carry them in my heart! This article reassured me it does not have to be anything dramatic. Just me continuing on as best I can, for the life I have been given. And living w gratitude and kindness!
Diana Arnett August 17, 2024 at 3:51 pm
I loved this article. It has been almost 6 years since my husband died. After that my best friend died of covid, then last year my brother died of suicide. I have yet to find Meaning in all of this. So many times I have read and heard how others have found that they can find hope and go on to do such great things with their life. I thought something was wrong with me and now I feel so much better after reading this. Maybe things will change down the road, I don’t know. I can now accept myself the way I am. Thank you.
Cort Engelken August 17, 2024 at 3:31 pm
Hi, Litsa,
Your usual well written, thoughtful and a tad sarcastic article! We share the social work profession together and I was a lit major as an undergrad so I spent four years reading heroic arcs! I’m suspicious you were too. My wife Lorraine who died three and-a-half years ago ( how have I survived that long) was also a lit major. We met in a course entitled “Love and the American Novel” ( true, who could make that up?). And she was a terrific reader. She read broadly and deeply. One of the things I miss most is her yelling: “Listen to this!” I quickly learned that when she said that, she meant it! When she was in hospice care, as long as she could, she kept reading. She has been reading Karl Ove Knausgaard’s novel “My Struggle” for years. It’s 3, 600 pages long and she fell 400 pages short when she passed. She would say (no more yelling) “Listen to this” and then read six pages in a whisper! She read way more heroic arcs than I and when I was reading your piece I was thinking how much she would have liked it and she would have thought and said very clearly: my life was no heroic arc and don’t try to make it into one. Our joy was in the journey! 💜
Maryella Sirmon August 17, 2024 at 2:38 pm
This is one of the most logical, beautiful, and meaningful essays I’ve read about grief. Thank you.
Sabiha B August 17, 2024 at 1:39 pm
‘…shaped by grief and shaping our grief’… brilliant! This was a deeply moving piece that gently reminds us to honor the tender rawness of grief, at every stage, in all shapes and forms. Thank you.
Chris A August 17, 2024 at 1:29 pm
We as Christians have been told that in all things consider it Joy. That they are in heaven , and many more things which for us is true. Yet it doesn’t take away the loss or the pain. A matter of fact these things said can often pull us away from our faith rather then draw us closer. In somethIngs it remains a mystery with no answer to “Why” and at some point to survive we have to become ok with that. In the book Wave, which I haven’t read the peace may take years to come and that’s ok as long as she can live and not be overtaken and go into a ball, not coming out. Grief is painful. My coping was reading all the books, the how to step by step to cross them off, then I would be done finished and ok. Sadly for me and perhaps for all it doesn’t work that way. The more I tried to run the faster it came back like flood. I’ve found that as said by many it’s like an onion skin, peal off one layer and there is another layer under that one. My husband passed suddenly from a heart attack, just before Covid shut down the world in March. With Covid we could not intern his ashes till July. One week before our daughter had a routine (no such word) for the cancer ocular melanoma she’d been diagnosed with 9 yrs before and found it had metastasized to her liver. Twenty two months later she passed. As I told my then 12 yr old granddaughter when she said, no amount of counseling or prayer is going to get me through this, I told her your right. It’s like horrible burn that hurts like hell. It will feel better eventually, but you will always have a scar. There is no timeline. God will be with us but like Jacob we will walk with a limp.
Lizzylou August 17, 2024 at 12:08 pm
What an insightful piece. It is very true for me the ‘’meaning’ of my grief journey is unique to me, the ways my loved one helped me to recognise my true worth and how our relationship shaped each other to be our best selves. The ‘meaning’ for me is that I do get out of bed each morning and I have the courage to build my ‘B’ life and honour all we had and continue to have by making it the best it can be. This article helps me to see my own hero journey. Thank you
Stephanie Fortune August 17, 2024 at 12:07 pm
Thank you so much for this profound article.
I agree entirely – that society largely feels it is necessary to have hope and find meaning in one’s grief and, if one can’t find it , one is stuck or has prolonged grief. And anything (books or otherwise ) that doesn’t offer that as the end game is not useful.
Personally, I can’t relate at all to stories of being transformed or of finding hope. Rather than lifting me up, they depress me and make me feel more hopeless.
But I so like your « take » that meaning is in the experience, as Joseph Campbell said.
We don’t need to look further than that. That, to me, gives comfort.
I look forward to reading Deraniyagala’s book.
Thanks again.
Jean August 17, 2024 at 6:32 pm
Well said Stephanie
Michelle L H August 17, 2024 at 12:03 pm
WOW thank you for these insights!! It has helped me reconsider and contemplate about if I was to or think my story might be ‘worth’ writing and/or sharing. I lost mt sister Brenda in 2009 age 47 to liver failure from her LONG HARD battle with alcoholism. I lost my sister Annette in 2013 age 48 to suicide, I found her dead of a self-inflicted gunshot wound to her head. And I lost my sister Susan in 2020 age 59 to (domestic violence) first degree murder. I am the lone survivor of our messed up, very abusive childhood, multiple types of abuses and multiple abusers. I deal with survivors guilt as well. My search for meaning, healing and purpose is quite complicated. 😪😢😭 I often hesitate sharing my grief journey and story for fear of hurting and or triggering people. Thank You for letting me share, and I guess I will continue to look for my heros journey with a little more grace and ease and self compassion!!🙂
Laurie August 17, 2024 at 8:06 pm
Hi Michelle. I felt moved to write to you to let you know how terribly sorry I am about the life experiences you’ve had to go through. I know this gets said all the time, but I can’t even imagine. I, too, I had a very abusive childhood, but there are so many different types and levels of abuse that you can’t really compare them. I have one sister, my half sister, who is 12 years older than I am, and luckily, she escaped most of the abuse, so she’s been my North Star all my life until I met my husband. My sister is now 80 and suffering from lupus and Alzheimer’s and I don’t get to see her very often and I suppose she won’t be around much longer, so I’m dreading that. I lost my husband three years ago to Lewy dementia with Parkinson’s and it’s a good thing my sister was still alive or I wouldn’t be here if you know what I mean. Every day is a struggle, which I’m sure you and pretty much everyone here can relate to. I just wanted to say one thing and I’m not telling you what to do or not do or how to feel or not feel, but when I hear people talk about survivor’s guilt, it always hurts my heart because I know that your sisters would want you to carry on because you’re carrying the torch for all of you. It’s amazing that you made it through all of that abuse and terrible loss and you’re still going. And again, I’m not trying to put any responsibility for you saying that you have to be happy for them or you’ll let them down or whatever because I don’t mean that. I just mean in this moment, for you to even be here telling your story is so inspirational and I don’t mean that in a sentimental way. I just wanted to say that your strength and courage touch me to my core and give me hope. I admire you for sharing. And I hope you continue to share because if others can’t deal with it, then that is their loss. I see you blazing a trail through a forest, holding some kind of a burning torch in your hand with your sisters as shadow figures behind you. You’re amazing. And again, you have my deepest, heartfelt sorrow for everything you’ve had to deal with. Someday I hope we get to know the answers, if there are any, about our experiences. Sending you love. 💖
Michelle L Herron August 18, 2024 at 9:21 pm
THANK You VERY MUCH Laurie I’m sending you LOTS of Love and well wishes on your healing journey TOO!! Yes honestly one of the things that keeps me clean and sober and determined to continue living and healing and spreading smiles and kindness when I have the opportunities, is believing that my continued healing does honor and help my sisters’ lives!!! And also I cannot bear to put my children through any more unnecessary grief and pain like all three of their Aunt’s deaths. I told them after Susans murder that I vowed to DO MY VERY BEST to leave the planet only by ‘natural causes’! And I hold hope in the fact that I believe we ARE ALL MUCH MORE CONNECTED than we think, and when I continue my healing journey it can help others!! Thank You again for all of your words of guidance and encouragement!! Love and Hugs and PLEASE take GOOD CARE of yourself too.
Lyn August 17, 2024 at 11:53 am
Oh I needed this article this morning! Grief without heroes. It’s been a year since I lost my husband and 10 since I lost my daughter. Every day is a journey of perseverance in just managing my life and finding my balance again and again.
Jean August 17, 2024 at 6:34 pm
I hear you Lyn. Lost my only 8 years ago. Finding “Meaning” feels like an area I failed.
Lisa C August 17, 2024 at 11:43 am
This was the best and most helpful “grief post” I have read. I tragically lost my beloved 21 year old son just 7 months ago and I have yet to find any overarching “Meaning” in my life. I have no desire to start a foundation or volunteer or anything else. I don’t see any kind of “hero’s journey” for me. Nothing I can do or become will in any way make up for the fact that my son’s life was cut short. Yet, here I am. Thank you for putting this perspective on the blog. I really needed to read this.
Nancy August 17, 2024 at 11:35 am
Great article Litsa. Thank you. This is so true. After my son died I felt this pressure internally, and it came toward me from others as well, often subtly and sometimes almost like a directive. ( ‘you should write a book’ ) I participated in charity walks and other things like it and, while it was a good distraction, it didn’t transform anything in me. Yes. “Human experience is meaningful when it is comprehensible to those who are having the experience.” I attend a group for parents who lost a child to overdose, and I when I listen, and comprehend, and I share and am comprehended, I have moments of light when I see myself and my “story” more clearly and maybe even for a moment, with more compassion.
Mildred August 17, 2024 at 11:28 am
This comment really resonates with me. It is 2 years ago that my husband died. He was 59. Quite soon after his death I started wrijving short stories. So many things happened to me, so many emotions. Writing is a way to deal with them. After 9 months I started sharing them on Instagram on a closed account. Were I am know in my grief I have the feeling that there is a lot of pain and sadness in me besides the fact that I can enjoy a diner with friends, a film, my children. I don’t know where to go with my life. These things I share. It is just to let people know how it feels for me. There is no arch, no meaning. There is pain, grief and loneliness. I try to live with that and have joyfull moments. I do not think I am going to read The Wave, but I think it is important that it has been written.
Jude August 17, 2024 at 11:21 am
Wow, wow….your response was just so true and beautifully said….to the negative comment to the writer, of Wave. I haven’t read the book, but I do know grief…..and it’s personal, complicated, and always evolving… not sure what the whole ” Hero ” thing means?? Thanks for all your do, love reading the news letters.
Jennifer August 17, 2024 at 11:18 am
This. THIS!
This is just about the most significant thing I have read about grief. THANK YOU. I am in relationship with several people facing wildly different grief experiences and THESE are the words I can share with EACH of them.
So grateful to you.
Jim Santucci August 17, 2024 at 9:13 pm
What a Fantastic Article!
The societal paradigm of the heros/grievers journey that you poignantly lay out puts a heavy amount of unnecessary pressure on the griever if it is seen through a capital M (and i would say a capital H – for hope as well) perspective only. But acknowledging and embracing the relevance of the small case “m” and “h” really aligns more fittingly with the idea that everyone’s grief (and grief journey) is unique. These are the kind of conversations I often have with the bereaved parent peer support group that I facilitate and now I have some new language and affirmed perspectives to share with them – thank you!
Thanks again for all you do in support of those who are grieving and the community that supports them.
Kim August 17, 2024 at 11:05 am
People that read this memoir and talk about no hope, have obviously not had losses like this precious mother , wife and daughter.
I saw my youngest daughter die at age 20 and it is something that you never get over.
I wish no parent to ever have to bury a child
Or children.