The luckiest among us lose the most. To experience many losses requires a long life and an abundance of gifts to lose. If I do not possess strength and vigor, I cannot lose them. If I do not love many people, I cannot lose them. Money, respect, and influence cannot be lost if they are never earned.
This is not to say we shouldn’t try to avoid losses. Indeed, it may feel worse to lose something like wealth or respect than never to have had them. Our nervous systems are programmed to register contrast, not absolutes. Nevertheless, earning or achieving anything is fraught with the risk of loss, and the longer they are possessed, the more likely they are to be lost. Those of us who live long, fulfilling lives will lose many loved ones, prized possessions, and at least some of our mental and physical capacities.
I am 42. As so many others my age, I have suffered losses. At 10, my parents divorced. Two grandparents lived in my home and died exactly one year apart when I was 13 and 14 years old. My mother also died when I was 14. My youngest brother died when I was 17. It felt like too much death too early in life but, given time, those of us so fortunate as to live will lose those whom we love.
I had a few serious relationships before meeting my wife, and I’ve lost the chance at being a father after years of unsuccessful infertility treatments. I’ve lost jobs—both on purpose and not. I have lost money and, on a few occasions, I have lost my dignity (at least in my own eyes).
How should we cope with such losses?
I wish I had The Answers, but I don’t, so I will offer my perspective instead. I will not advise you to be grateful for losses, although some benefit from that perspective. I will not admonish you if you grieve over your losses. In fact, I think grief is a necessary part of loss. However, without taking something positive away from such experiences, it is difficult to process a loss and continue to live a spiritually uplifted, fulfilling life.
Our expectations, more than our circumstances, often determine how we react to loss, and it helps to remind ourselves when we gain possessions or accomplishments that they are temporary. It helps to appreciate our gifts more while we have them. This will not eliminate the pain of loss, but it can make it bearable.
The second ingredient to dealing with loss is regularly taking stock of whatever abundance we have. This reinforces our gratitude for our bounty, but it also has the effect of giving us perspective. With loss, it is common to focus intensely on what is lost and to lose perspective on what remains. The loss becomes so overwhelming people feel they’ve lost everything. The truth is that losing everything is rare, and most of us would do well to take stock of what we still possess while still allowing ourselves to feel the pain of loss.
Often, we know when a loss is approaching (e.g., cancer in a spouse, poor performance at work). This is a good time to begin to cope. If it is a job we are losing, we may take stock of what we think we have done well and what we could have done better. We can take pride in the former and resolve to do better at the latter in the future. If it is the reality of dealing with a dying friend or relative, we can think about what they mean to us and plan for our response to their loss in the future. We can never know with certainty how we might be affected by that loss when it occurs, but it is worth beginning the process rather than engaging in denial.
When we do undergo an inevitable loss, we must deal with the aftermath. Much has been written about loss and grieving, with the Kübler-Ross model the most well-known. It includes the famous 5 stages of grieving: denial, anger, bargaining, depression, and acceptance. Over the 20th century, other models of the grieving process have been developed, some with greater scientific rigor.
While I believe grief models sometimes help with loss and grief, how actively people should engage with their grief is an issue for some. Should I let the grief unfold or should I actively engage with my feelings and try to “work through” them? My perspective is that we cannot fully steer the grieving process, but that doesn’t mean we need to be completely passive either.
For example, most of us will force ourselves to do things we prefer not to do. It can be difficult to return to work after a parent’s death or go through a lost loved one’s belongings. We may not want to be social but know, at some point, that social interactions are good for us. We know things will change over time, but we cannot predict the pattern, nor should we excessively steer the process.
Eventually, losses become less acute and all-encompassing. We have moments when we are not thinking about our lost loved one, job, or home. We may laugh again and experience joy. This often causes feelings of guilt or incongruence when we remember our grief, but joy and grief can exist in the same person. In fact, they must if we are to keep going, keep growing. When they do appear, the feelings of grief may be as intense as if the event just happened, but we also have moments of reprieve. In my experience, this can be true for the rest of one’s life, but the intervals between feelings of grief become longer over time.
Even after many years have passed, we never really “get over” losses. We shouldn’t even try. What is necessary is rolling these losses into our new selves and being better for it. Psychologists call this post-traumatic growth, and it’s one of the key aspects of recovery from loss.
In Option B, Sheryl Sandberg and Adam Grant describe the 5 forms of post-traumatic growth as laid out by Tedeschi and Calhoun: finding personal strength, gaining appreciation, forming deeper relationships, discovering more meaning in life, and seeing new possibilities. They write about Jeff Huber who became CEO of GRAIL after his wife died of colon cancer. GRAIL is a company that uses blood tests to detect cancer early. In my case, as an example, I have gained an appreciation for having the special relationship with my brother for the 13 years of his life. He was a great brother, and not everyone is granted such a gift. I feel lucky to have had him as a brother even though he was taken from me at a very young age. But the loss is still painful. I find being comfortable with both of these feelings has helped me tremendously.
I have also used my early life losses to become a better doctor and friend because they have given me a greater ability to understand other people’s hardships. This took time, and my losses left their mark. Like I said, we don’t really get over things, but we are able to move on and experience joy and fulfillment again.
We cannot outrun loss. But thinking and talking about loss does not make life less joyful unless we cannot experience joy. To live life to the fullest, we must become comfortable with loss, because to lose is to be human.
Wow, thanks for sharing Tvzi. Infertility must be painful for you and your wife. I'm sure it hurts but remember it's all about how you raise your future children. The connection is made by giving!