Grief and Loss: Reflections Along the Journey to Healing

Abstract

The grieving process is fraught with emotions that ebb and flow as one attempts to face the challenges and obstacles associated with grief. This paper examines the lived experiences of an academician, who diligently searched for opportunities to use grief experiences as mechanisms for transformation and education. A re-examination of the stage theory of grief offers a perspective on how one traverses the unexplored passages of grief. This paper examines a personal account of loss and grief, and moves into contextualizing the parallels that exist between grief and the change process that happens as one learns from a traumatic life event.

Full text

Grief and Loss: Reflections Along the Journey to Healing
Kenya Yonawa McKinley
Abstract: The grieving process is fraught with emotions that ebb and flow as one attempts to face the challenges
and obstacles associated with grief. This paper examines the lived experiences of an academician, who diligently
searched for opportunities to use grief experiences as mechanisms for transformation and education. A
re-examination of the stage theory of grief offers a perspective on how one traverses the unexplored passages of
grief. This paper examines a personal account of loss and grief, and moves into contextualizing the parallels that
exist between grief and the change process that happens as one learns from a traumatic life event.
Keywords: grief theory, grief, change process, reflection
Do normal stages of grieving really exist? I do not
know. What I am keenly aware of is that my grief is
real and it fostered an altered reality in my world.
Introduction
I awoke to a faint knock at my front door to find a
close relative standing there in tears. With trembling
lips and a stammering tongue, she uttered words that
I will never forget. "Your sister passed away about
an hour ago," she said. Instantly, I screamed and ran
for the closet…my safe space. Amid the clothes,
shoes and various other worldly belongings, I
collapsed under a wave of emotions. I yelled and
screamed, remembering in an instant all of the things
I said to my sister. I screamed even harder, because
of all of the things I never told her. As the emotions
continued to take root, the thought of her children
being motherless in this ostensibly cruel world hit
me like a freight train. In my mind, death had come
too early for a seemingly, healthy 37-year old former
track star and mother of three beautiful children.
Dealing with death was not on my to-do list for that
day. Yet there I was, reeling from the blow of that
miserable news so early in the morning.
My plans for that day were thrown off by the news.
On that day, I had plans to meet my class for the first
meeting of the spring semester. I was prepared to
discuss the syllabus, the learning projects for the
semester, our group dynamics, and most importantly
the secrets to success in our learning community.
This news left me shaken to the core and exhausted.
I was emotionally wrecked within a matter of
minutes. Physical exhaustion settled in afterwards,
because of all of the things I knew I would have to
do…plan a funeral, clean my home, and prepare
food. The list continued to mount in my mind. I was
spiritually drained, because I had failed to feed my
spirit. Yet, as I processed all that was going on in my
mind and body, my analytical other pushed me into a
place of resolve. I knew I would find a way to embrace
the new reality life handed me that day.
What happens when life happens? The best-laid plans
can be thwarted by traumatic life events. I resolved that
a good teacher seizes every opportunity to learn from
and impart knowledge to students, even during the most
inopportune times. After several days, I returned to the
classroom with a determination to use this experience
as a tool to teach undergraduate social work students
about dealing with the challenges that life hands you.
Nevertheless, while these intentions were honest,
actualizing my goals was not as easy as it seemed.
The beginning of life marks a pivotal moment of our
human existence. Understanding this precious journey
of life may cause some individuals to stumble. For
those who are profoundly aware of the gift of life, the
challenge becomes equally distressing when a life
comes to an end. This reflective narrative uncovers the
complexities of grief and loss combined with the
external forces that created a definitive shift in my
understanding of life in my world and imparting
knowledge about resilience to undergraduate social
work students. Essentially, this essay lays bare the truth
about my experiences of loss, grief, and healing as an
African-American female academician.
In the first portion of this narrative, I analyze my grief
experience through the lens of Dr. Elizabeth
Kubler-Ross’ model-the Five Stages of Grief. While
this model has been challenged, reformed and
reconfigured (Maciejewski, Zhang, Block & Prigerson,
2007; Wortman, 2007), the original template outlined in
Kubler-Ross’ seminal piece, On Death and Dying,
offers a more accurate depiction of my personal journey
through grief. Kubler-Ross (1969) identified five stages
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Grief and Loss: Reflections Along the Journey to Healing
of grief to include: 1) shock and disbelief/denial; 2)
anger; 3) bargaining; 4) depression; 5) acceptance.
Although Kubler-Ross fashioned this model to focus
on the emotions and actions of terminally ill patients
on a journey of dying (Kubler-Ross, 1969), scholars
and practitioners have used this framework as a
model for understanding grief after loss. In my linear
approach to thinking and doing, this model was most
useful for me to draw upon my experiences in
grieving and healing. Additionally, I examine my
experience using a lens of meaning making and the
establishment of continuing bonds with my deceased
loved-one. To that end, this essay takes the reader on
that passage. It is a journey of understanding my
emotions and actions connected to the loss of my
baby sister. As I uncover my experiences through
reflection, it is my intent to illuminate the parallel
complexities of thinking back and moving forward,
simultaneously. Drawing on theoretical elements
that focus on reconstructing meaning, I also examine
my journey to healing from this perspective. In the
final portion of this narrative, I situate this journey
of grief into the context of my role as a professional
and an educator. Using the 2015 Educational Policy
and Accreditation Standard, I examine the
usefulness of my personal experience in my space as
teacher and a learner.
The Journey
Denial
Denying the loss of my sister came in the most
austere way. Because I was not there when she took
her last breath, I surmised that the doctors had gotten
it wrong. I convinced myself that we would receive a
telephone call with a retraction claiming that the
medical professionals had made a blunder. The
conversation would go like this,
Maam, I want to apologize for causing you such
pain earlier this morning with that terrible news that
your sister passed away. Actually, we made a
mistake in communicating that information. Your
sister is, in fact, alive and she’s resting comfortably
in her room. Again, I want to say how terribly sorry
I am that we messed up. Do you have any questions?
I further deduced that this notion of death that
interrupted our lives and the mistake that they made
would be the topic of conversation at our next family
get-together. I waited for several hours, but the call
never came. I finally accepted the reality that I
would never receive such a call. The reality of losing a
sibling was foreign to me.
Anger
Honestly, I was angry! But, I did not know why or with
whom. I was mad because I had lost Mom and Dad, and
now my baby sister. I was angry because I tried so hard
to build a relationship with her, but it never really
seemed to take root. I was mad because she always
acted mad. I was angry because we never really had a
chance to deal with the whys and hows…the
fundamental issues that plagued our relationship. I was
angry because she left and did not tell me she was
leaving. I was just mad!!! I recalled when we were
children how she use to be the ultimate tomboy, and I
was more of the homemaker type. I always felt that our
disconnection stemmed from not having anything in
common, other than a shared bloodline. I also felt that
this disconnect was further exacerbated by the way
people adored her and shunned me.
Now, my adult mind understood that we never really
dealt with the blows that these issues landed on our
relationship. Nonetheless, I still love her, and she will
always be my sister, even though she is not on this side
with us. I once heard a person say that having a sister is
like having a built-in, best friend. How I wish that were
our story! The more I think about being angry, the more
I realized that my anger was really about me and my
decision to accept that state of our relationship. I am
angry with myself for not doing more to fix our
brokenness.
With each passing day, I did not know whether I would
encounter something or someone who would trigger a
thought that lead to more thoughts. I had no answer for
how it worked…no prescriptive approach to
understanding how it worked for others. I soon realized
that there were balms that help heal the hurt. Those
comforts came in the form of time and tears.
In that moment, the moment where grief found me
stricken with a sense of abysmal doom, there was a
point where it felt like this thing called grief would take
on a life of its own; it felt as if it would last forever. So
thick was the hurt and murky the pain, it seemed as if
that place would become my permanent place of
residence and it ruled me with an iron fist. But then,
like a sudden and unexpected snowstorm, a ray of hope
revealed itself. Hope that came like a flood to cast away
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Grief and Loss: Reflections Along the Journey to Healing
all hurt for the moment was the balm that lifted me
from the desperate place of hurt. This thing called
hope came with time, and it manifested itself in such
a way that it almost felt elusive. With time, healing
began, and through time peaceful waters emerged.
The tears came suddenly, as suddenly as the news of
her death. Honestly, in the moment that the
devastating news was delivered to me, I felt as
though the wind got knocked out of me with the
sheer force of a battering ram. All I could do was
reach for air that seemed to be gone. When I finally
recovered from the initial blow, I felt a stinging
sensation welling up and the tears flowed…a little at
first. In the days leading up to the funeral, I put on
an armor of steel. Displaying strength was what I
had been taught to do. I realized that being strong for
others left no time for personal tears…not even in
the quiet and stillness of night. Real tears did not
flow until I stood at the threshold of the sanctuary on
the day we buried our sister. As I moved closer to
the front of the funeral procession, my feet felt as
though there were two bricks strapped to them. A
gentle nudge from our youngest sibling ushered in a
flood of tears like no other. As I stood there sobbing
profusely, I was stricken with a sense of shame. I
was too ashamed to be so vulnerable with even my
closest relatives. I was too ashamed to allow my
tears to reveal the truth, the truth that I was not made
of steel, and that tears were a part of me.
In time, the truth about those tears became a clearer
revelation to me. My tears became a river of healing,
and like a river, they flowed, regardless. Just as
water finds its way around a rock in the riverbed, so
did my tears find their way around all of the stuff I
tried to use to block them. No matter how much I
poured myself into my work or how engaged I
became in any given project, the tears found their
way out. Sometimes, they came in the midst of a
certain task, and sometimes for no apparent reason at
all. I remember one instance quite vividly.
Bargaining
While brief, bargaining is a marked by an effort to
postpone, push aside or negotiate the inevitable.
After receiving the news of my sisters passing, there
was no time to bargain for more time or negotiate for
another chance. The reality of not having this option
pricked my heart. In past experiences of losing a
loved one, I attempted to bargain…to beg for
reprieve…to ask for one sliver of time with that
individual that I held so dear. Not this time. The news
came so suddenly; there was hardly time to process the
conversation I had with my sister some six hours before
she passed. If the chance were open to bargain, I would
have done so. My plea would have been to have a few
more days with my sister so that we could have a
difficult conversation concerning our relationship. It
always bothered me that my sister and I were not very
close. I held a deep yearning to really understand why
our relationship manifested negatively. For many years,
I reasoned that it was because she just did not
understand me. I reasoned that it was because I was
incredibly different from her and everyone else. If I had
the chance to bargain, I would have asked for the time,
space and courage to delve into a conversation about
this topic.
Depression
In the days and weeks following my sisters passing, I
pushed depression aside. There was no time to retreat
into my emotions and withdraw from those around me.
My role as the rock for my family precluded a chance
to sink into despair. Depression finally came after two
months of grieving her loss. At first, there were
psychosomatic issues that seemed all-too familiar,
having grieved the loss of my parents off and on for the
previous twelve years. Then, came the periods in time
where I did not and would not venture into the
company of others. I simply did not have the strength or
desire to do it. I just wanted to be left alone to immerse
myself in my thoughts and emotions about my sister
and her absence. I was okay with feeling sorry for
myself, and not trying to focus on the promise that
everything would be alright. It was not all right, I was
not all right, and I was okay with that. There was a
surreal feeling of being okay in my broken, sad state. I
have vivid memories of ruminations about my sisters
final moments on Earth. I wondered if she called out to
anyone or is she faded away peacefully. I wondered if
she sought comfort in seeing familiar faces. These
thoughts sent me into a deeper depression, because of
all of the unknown variables that I could not and did
not know. For me, bouts of depression impacted
personal relationships with those around me. I simply
wanted to be left alone, but, in their infinite wisdom,
those who knew me best and loved me most would not
allow me to slip away into the darkness of depression.
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Grief and Loss: Reflections Along the Journey to Healing
Acceptance
To say the least, my truth about acceptance in this
journey is awkwardly unique. The truth is that there
are still days where I find myself revisiting many of
the stages of grief. I have learned that there is often
no real reason why I am caught in such tailspin.
There is usually a mitigating factor that explains
these visits to the other places where grief takes an
individual. However, the stage of acceptance has
become a welcome peace for me on most days.
Acceptance was fostered in as quickly as the news of
my sisters passing, and it brought with it respite and
a deeper understanding of the relationship between
my sister and I. It happened one day as I was going
through some of my sisters belongings. I stumbled
up on her journal. At first, I felt like I was invading
her privacy, but there was something about the cover
of this manuscript that compelled me to read it. As I
combed through her thoughts, I learned that we had
something in common. The girl with the beautiful
smile and the spit-fire personality, the one who was
a stand-out athlete and beauty queen, the girl who
won the hearts of most everyone she met…that girl,
my sister, also struggled. My sister penned a snippet
of her reality when she wrote:
I’m 26-years old, and in the beginning, since I
was old enough to remember, I’ve been a pretty
little black girl. At first it was just another thing I
heard. I admit though, it did get me through the
years of thinking the being dark skinned was a
curse and the all the light skinned girls were
looked upon as goddesses.
In her journal, she talked at length about the
disconnection between the two of us. In that
moment, I realized that part of my struggle in
accepting her death was steeped in issues
surrounding our relationships. All of the unspoken
and unexplained matters that had long plagued our
relationship were catalysts for fostering anger, denial
and depression. With this newfound understanding
of our struggle, a veil of heaviness was lifted from
me. The window of opportunity to understand her
side of the story had passed. At this juncture, I had
options. I could remain stuck in my grief or find a
way to make sense of the nuggets of introspection
that she had left behind in her writings.
Reconstructing Meaning
In a matter of weeks, I began to reframe my thoughts
about my sisters death and her life. I embraced this new
knowledge that she, just as I, had known the challenges
of our relationship. Reading my sisters journal was
effective catharsis for me, because I was able to get a
glimpse of our relationship from her perspective. Gillies
and Neimeyer (2006) explain that an important element
of meaning making rests in the ability of the bereaved
to identify as a survivor, while making sense of the loss
or finding benefit in the experience of grieving the loss
of someone. After reading several entries from my
sisters journal, I reflected on the last year of our time
together. Even as she battled a number of chronic
illnesses, I now realize that she understood the severity
of her ailments and she knew that her health would
rapidly decline over a short time. While she did not
openly share this with me, there was evidence of
reconciliatory behavior that indicated regret for past
hurts and misunderstandings. I have come to believe
that she too wrestled with the state of our relationship,
and that she also had a desire to mend the brokenness
between us. Ultimately, this knowledge helped bring
about a measure of acceptance and a healthy dose of
peace.
Journey Onward
Through the journey of grief, the arduous process of
healing seems elusive. While difficult as it may be,
there is solace in knowing that, for me, healing emerges
with the passing of time. The Council on Social Work
Education 2015 Educational Policy and Accreditation
Standards identifies a need to demonstrate ethical and
professional behavior, as a primary competency of a
professional social worker (Council on Social Work
Education, 2015). A component behavior attached to
this competency implores social workers to use
reflection and self-regulation to manage personal values
and maintain professionalism in practice situations
(Council on Social Work Education, 2015). As an
academician, teaching is my practice, and a major focus
of my practice is to foster an environment that helps
students understand the interconnections that exist
between their personal and professional life, and to help
them use this knowledge to inform their pathway to
becoming a professional. I constantly implore my
students to deal with latent issues that may impede their
ability to establish rapport and guide clients through the
change process. Goldblatt-Hyatt (2014) appropriately
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Grief and Loss: Reflections Along the Journey to Healing
cautions practitioners about the pitfalls of
self-disclosure and the potential counter-productive
influence on the client. However, Brew and Kottler
(2017) posit that self-disclosure is useful for several
reasons, including the need to demonstrate ways of
dealing with difficult situations (p. 272). Similarly,
they state that self-disclosure is useful when one
needs to take yourself off the pedestal and make
yourself appear more human (Brew and Kottler,
2017, p. 272). A safe measure of self-disclosure has
proven to be an appropriate tool for teaching
students about the balance of work and life that must
exist when they enter the field of practice. During
the semester of my devastating loss, there were two
incidents where I openly discussed the general
challenges that I faced in my grieving state.
As I journeyed through the grieving process, there
was an occasion where I vividly remember that my
emotions and feelings were overwhelming. Yet, I
tried to move beyond this place, because I wanted to
do what came natural to me and move to a place of
normalcy. For me, that place is in the classroom
engaged in teaching. Looking back, I realize that I
returned to the classroom too soon, and that I had
not developed a healthy coping mechanism when my
emotions got the better of me. Only a week after
burying my sister, I returned to the classroom. In one
of my class sessions that I week, a flood of emotions
overwhelmed me, and try as I might, nothing I did
made them go away. During this particular class
meeting, we engaged in a dynamic discussion about
the experiences of women in the United States, and
this discussion was followed by a short video. As the
lights dimmed and the video started, I retreated to a
seat behind the podium and sobbed silently. When
the video ended and we re-convened the discussion,
a student asked a very pointed question. She said,
“What’s wrong with you, Dr. M?”, as she remarked
about the noticeable traces of tears. I briefly shared
that I had very recently suffered the loss of a close
relative, and promptly dismissed class. To these
students, the impenetrable Dr. must have looked like
she was losing her mind. Giving voice to the
personal struggle of grief and loss helped shed light
on the fact that we all face various life challenges
that shape our understanding and knowing in the
world around us. In that moment, I became
profoundly cognizant of how social workers can use
a myriad of situations to help elevate their client’s
understanding about life and its unfolding issues.
Livsey (1999) highlights the importance of openness
and vulnerability, to ourselves and to others within the
teaching arena. For me, these elements open the
doorway of inquiry and knowledge transfer through
reflection and action, for the student and the teacher. In
that moment, I learned that students need to see
vulnerability is modeled, even in the classroom.
Conversely, they have to learn how to appreciate and
create boundaries between them and the clients they
serve.
Months after my loss, I remember walking into the
classroom with a plan to lecture about healthy family
relationships; the conversation shifted in an instant
when a student offered condolences. Initially, I was
taken aback, because I was not prepared to
acknowledge my recent loss. Since the class discussion
centered on parental influences with regard to child
development, we talked at length about the
relationships that exist between siblings and between
children and parents. As students began to recall their
experiences as children, they asked about my
childhood. During that class period, I experienced a
healthy measure of self-disclosure, as I made
correlations between parenting styles and varying
relationships between sibling sets. Nods of affirmation
were evident, as students silently reflected on their
experiences as children. As I left class that day, I
walked away knowing that my grief had not taken me
to another emotional space as I openly discussed some
of the dynamics of my family. While that day went well
for me, there were others that were not as successful.
One outcome of this journey through grief is that I
take a different approach to helping students understand
this connectedness. I teach students that a good
practitioner is committed to dealing with personal
challenges within his/her life before embarking upon a
quest to help clients confront their life challenges, thus
my reason for giving them a glimpse into the pain that I
suffered after the loss of my beloved sister.
Goldsworthy (2005) theorizes that practitioners must
explore applications of grief and loss theory beyond
death and dying. In the swell of helping clients learn
coping skills, practitioners have the knowledge and
ability to help clients understand practical applications
of grief and loss theory in reference to a number of
issues they may face in life.
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Grief and Loss: Reflections Along the Journey to Healing
Conclusion
Passing on this course in life has made me keenly
aware that the theories of grief and loss are
inextricably linked, and are helpful for
understanding the actions and reactions of those we
serve. As I traveled on my path to healing, I learned
to pay careful attention to people, places and things
that represented triggers into grief. While I did all
that I could to avoid them, many could not be
skirted. It was in those moments when I realized that
most everyone has his or her own story of grief and
loss. Whether it is a loss of a loved one or loss of
financial stability, the journey is real. The emotions
can be raw, and resilience is also an option. Moving
on from this place requires a strength and resolve
that seems elusive at first, but these elements
become more familiar with time. In the space where
theory and practice collide and where the client
meets the professional, there is hope borne out of the
pain of change and a knowing that fosters healing.
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About the Author: Kenya Yonawa McKinley, Ph.D., is
Assistant Professor of Social Work, Mississippi State
University (662-325-2495; kym1@msstate.edu ).
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