This post was written by Rev. Ray Holman, staff chaplain, Parkview Health.
May 2018 changed my life in many ways. The beginning of the month was filled with joy and elation, as my wife and I celebrated the birth of our first child. While the days that followed were challenging, we felt like we had a good support system around us and we could face anything the world threw at us. But everything changed 18 days later.
I distinctly recall the rap on the door, the man entering our house, how he sat my wife and me down at our kitchen table, and his words informing us that my youngest brother had died at the age of 28.
A guide through loss
In 1969, Elisabeth Kübler-Ross published “On Death and Dying,” which has become one of the most influential books in modern psychology. In the book, Kübler-Ross identified five stages that a dying person might experience: Denial, Anger, Bargaining, Depression and Acceptance. In the years following the publication of “On Death and Dying,” these five stages transformed into what we commonly know now as the “5 Stages of Grief.”
The problem with the 5 stages
Now, I will state here, Kübler-Ross’s “5 Stages” can be helpful. They describe some of the emotions and feelings that one experiences surrounding a death. But there are two problems with this idea of “5 Stages of Grief.”
First, they can be read as if they are an order: “You must feel these specific feelings, and if you don’t feel these exact ones, you are not grieving properly.” Reading the “5 Stages” as a prescription denies us the ability to acknowledge other equally valid emotions, including guilt, anxiety, confusion and shock, not to mention spiritual and existential questions.
But the second problem is, in my opinion, far worse. When we use that phrase, “Stages of Grief,” that word “Stage” can make us feel like our feelings must occur in a specific order, and that these feelings must each take a certain amount of time.
In the weeks and months following my brother’s death, I experienced a wide range of emotions. One stuck with me for quite some time, though. It was anger. I was constantly asking myself questions like, “Why did this happen?” “What could I have done differently?” and “Why didn’t I make the most out of our time together?” As I asked those questions, I couldn’t find an answer to calm the rage that burned in my heart.
But another problem exacerbated these feelings of anger. As weeks turned into months, and months tuned into years, my friends, family and colleagues would all talk about how they’d “moved on” or “accepted” what happened. But I hadn’t yet. Their comments made me feel guilty for remaining angry. I felt shame for not being able to move on. Simply said, all their comments did was make me want to stuff down my anger and put on the façade that everything was okay—when nothing felt okay.
Embracing your unique grief journey
In the aftermath of loss, it is 100% understandable why people cling to things like the “5 Stages of Grief.” They want to know what to feel. They want to know how it will affect them. They want to know how long it will last. But the truth is that grief doesn’t happen in stages. Nor is it time bound. People fluctuate between emotions all the time: They feel guilt in one minute and anger in the next. They feel peace for a few weeks and then fear in the subsequent months. They ask unanswerable questions like, “Why did God let this happen?” on the anniversary of a loss, and then complete tranquility seconds later.
Numerous studies have shown that Kübler-Ross’s “5 Stages”—whether they are used to describe how a dying person copes as they face their last days, or how a person feels in the aftermath of grief—don’t actually exist. Grief is normal. Anger is normal. But acceptance is also normal. And so is peace of mind. There is no prescribed feeling to have or time to feel it.
Seven-and-a-half years removed from my brother’s death, I still feel many of these emotions. I will be honest; to this day, the anger is still there. But now I can also recognize that other feelings are present as well. How did I get there? By coming to terms with the fact that my grief (and how I handle it) doesn’t have to be prescribed. I’ve acknowledged that there is no “right” or “wrong” amount of time to grieve.
My experiences after loss are part of the “Symptom of Being Human” (which is also the title of a song by the rock band Shinedown). And so are yours, whenever you experience them. There is no binding rule that grief must go through certain steps. Feel them in whatever order they come. Name them. Acknowledge them. Heck, I would even go so far as to say that you should welcome them. Why? Because you aren’t a robot, but a human.
Above all, remember you are not alone in those feelings. It is true, no one else will know or understand exactly what your anger, your pain, your hurt really feels like. But that doesn’t mean other people haven’t felt similarly before. Despite all the façades that we put on to pretend like anger or acceptance or guilt or shock doesn’t affect us when someone dies, all those feelings are normal. And that’s the beauty of it.
As you deal with anger over the death of a loved one, feel those feelings instead of stuffing them away. And remember that you are not alone.
