The grief freeze.
This weekend I had a social interaction with a 13 year old kiddo and his mom. In our casual chat, I came to realize that the kiddo had lost his father a year ago. There was an awkward moment. How to express the heartbreak I felt, hearing this young person and his mother name their fresh grief?
The freeze felt like a shot of inadequacy: what could I possibly say to these acquaintances that would meet the complex well of their grief? And why would they even want to contact that grief in this quick social interaction? It would be easy to brush off the moment and continue to chat lightly about summer plans.
I chose to (quite awkwardly) say to the kiddo: “I am so sorry you lost your dad. That is so heartbreaking.” And then we went back to discussing summer plans.
Why did I choose to do this? It may have been absolutely the wrong thing to do and it’s quite likely I’ll never know what the right thing to do was.
However, I know this. When it has been our family’s turn to be in grief, I was so moved by people taking an act, maybe even a seemingly insignificant act, to say they cared. When going through cancer treatment, I remember one friend would text me questions daily like “Can you feel your feet right now?” Or “What is your view of the sky like in this moment?” And an acquaintance from our kids’ school gave us a cookbook and a crystal. When my father died, the mom of my kiddo’s school friend gave us a plant. Many people, including folks I didn’t know well, took the time to send cards. In the mail!
These acts mattered deeply to me. They had me feel integrally connected to the world of people who are not in crisis or active grief (but of course very busy with their complex lives).
The grief freeze is normal. We encounter grief daily, when learning that a friend’s pet died, or a colleague’s parent died, or yet another person has a new cancer diagnosis. It is a reminder of our impermanence, something that for very human reasons, we forget over and over again.
My suggestion: When you encounter grief, notice the freeze and honor it. Perhaps it slows you down. Then, do the next thing that occurs to you, some human and inadequate act to say you’re feeling them and you care. It may even be the wrong thing. But worrying about that is more about focusing on yourself. Instead, your small heartfelt act allows the collective freeze around grief to thaw, just a bit in that moment.
