It’s been 27 years since my brother died.
In that time, I have experienced many other significant losses, including the death of another brother and our mother.

• Grief changes over time.

• It isn’t logical or linear.

• It doesn’t expire.

• It will never completely disappear.

It can also bring insight and inspiration if we’ll accept it. Here’s an example from my life:

After all these years, I recently had the opportunity to visit the site where my brother lost his life. It was my first time being there. I had seen pictures of the stretch of curving road from my parent’s visits, but somewhere in the back of my mind, I must’ve always known I needed to be there myself, to experience the atmosphere, the place on this earth that his spirit left his body & our physical world, with him in it, ceased to exist. I wasn’t sure what to expect from the visit or what my reaction would be, but I knew the opportunity wasn’t a coincidence and I’m glad I followed the pull to go.

I almost gave up on the venture when I ran into some hurdles. When I had trouble tracking down his friend who lived in the area, the disappointment made me doubt the whole plan. I started to question the importance of this mission and the strength of my determination to make it happen. Maybe going there was pointless & excessive after 27 years. Maybe his friend wouldn’t want to talk about it or would think it’s time we let it go and moved on.

But apparently, I was meant to go there, because the stars aligned and I soon found myself climbing the steep embankment along a northern BC highway, approaching the white steel cross that stands guard over this sacred spot. I wasn’t prepared (nor do I think there was anything I could have done to be prepared) for seeing his name permanently written there in the metal. This place, so very far from our childhood home where most of my memories of him were created, is where I now saw his name. My brother’s name. The brother who only shared 26 years with us. The one who has been gone longer than he was here.

The pain welled up inside me, not as raw, but I was surprised how deep it still was. In the days leading up to this visit, there had been some waves of grief & a few tears that pulled at my heart, but this was much stronger. I was now standing in the place where he took his last breath. The last place he was alive. Many many years ago. Those years, and numerous scenes from my life in those years, flashed before me like a replay of life without him. How could those years have been different if he’d been there? What would he have done? Who would he have become? How might that have altered my life course? Who else would he have brought into our lives? What advice would he have for me?

As I stood there with his friend beside the memorial he’d created for my brother, 2 dragonflies circled. I rarely see dragonflies. But usually when I do, it’s at a time I’m thinking of him. I mentioned this to his friend that day and he said it’s a month early to see them. The dragonflies usually show up the end of July – which I was startled to realize is the same time of year that my brother died. This could all just be coincidence, or I could appreciate this as a comforting sign that he’s still with us in spirit.

Seeing, in person, for the first time, the reverent memorial created for him, reconnecting & reminiscing with his friends, being in the space where he’d lived and worked, surrounded by these significant parts of his former life, brought my grief full circle. I was happy I’d followed my urge to visit this place of sorrow, to open that door and allow my grief to connect with the grief of others – even many years after the loss. Grief changes. It’s important to take it out and look at it when it’s on your mind. Don’t be afraid that it will consume you. Yes, it can be intense & unsettling, but how has ignoring it been working for you?

We talk of closure, but I can’t say that I am convinced there ever can, or should be, closure for grief.

Doing & experiencing certain things may bring some comfort and peace, but closure suggests finalizing something, a sense of resolution or conclusion, and I don’t think that applies to grief. It’s always going to be with us to some degree. What I wish for and strive for is to focus on the insights and inspiration it offers.

No matter what the source of our grief, there is potential for blessings & lessons to come from it. If we can allow ourselves to be open to see this, to walk through the most painful parts with some hope and optimism intact, then we give some purpose to our loss. What we are mourning will not be lost in vain. It can serve to enhance our lives if we’ll let it. It is an ever-present reminder of this purpose.

Can you see how your losses have helped you appreciate life more fully? To reprioritize how you spend your time and who you spend it with? To inspire you to make the most of opportunities that cross your path?

Grief doesn’t have a predictable timeline. There is no expiry date. There are highs and lows. But it is a natural part of life. We choose how we react to it and how we live with it. Everyone experiences it differently, even within the same family or group, even related to the same event. Accepting this, allowing yourself & others the grace & space to experience it in their own way, will help everyone find more comfort & peace and less anxiety & shame in their grief. It’s not going away. It will be with you forever. So why not allow it to be a positive influence for you? Don’t be afraid to revisit and excavate grief if you feel pulled to do so, no matter how long ago it first entered your life or how much you think (or have been told) to get past it. I have found that it helps to follow those impulses & invitations and to be open to what grief wants to show you at each visit.

xo Deena

P.S. Read more of my story & what grief has taught me in the blog post “Goodbyes”.