The grief and growth of life and death

I just lost a very dear friend to cancer. She died in a matter of weeks—shockingly fast. There was no time to offer comfort, explore alternative treatments, say goodbye or adjust to her departure. I can’t believe she’s really gone. It feels unreal, and I can’t help wondering about the point of it all.

Many of us have lost family or close friends in recent years. Some deaths have been due to the natural turnover of life, with all of us ultimately getting recycled back into nature. And some have been due to medical interventions that circumvented the natural course of existence.

While losing a loved one to old age is painful enough, it is even more so when a life is cut short due to an inappropriate medical approach—or the failure of an appropriate one being applied, as I know from personal experience. But when is it appropriate to offer input to those who are ill? How do you know it’s okay and right to do so? Some say that we all have our journey and must be allowed to make our own choices. Yet those choices are so often based on what’s imposed on us, in an environment of conventional ignorance coupled with a reliance on conventional medicine.

What then is the purpose of diligently researching natural solutions and the effects of toxic medications? What use is it if we learn about toxic medications yet cannot share it with those who might need it? We do it for self-preservation, of course—our primary motivator. Yet our own knowledge is usually the result of someone else sharing theirs, or by us intuitively applying an approach to see if it works, based on what we have learned from others.

And being aware of treatments that could potentially make a meaningful difference can sometimes add to the frustration, if conventional medicine refuses to accept their validity—or even the fundamentals of health.

How do you know when to share your knowledge and when to say nothing and allow things to unfold as they will, even if it seems that the individual in question will die without appropriate treatment?

This is not to say that I or anyone else has all the answers. We certainly don’t. But wanting to help a loved one and offering some potential solutions seems like the obvious caring, loving thing to do.

But is it?

Our loved ones are part of our journey. But perhaps their absence is part of it too. And the loss of a loved one triggers so many conflicting emotions that it may only be then that we realize how much emotional trauma or angst we may have inside us. We may experience anger, regret, guilt, sorrow and many other emotions. We may also blame ourselves for not intervening, for not insisting that something be done to save someone. Yet we may also have regrets about having insisted, if our input was not welcome, caused resentment or fell on deaf ears… which can trigger issues around not being heard or validated, which we must then resolve for ourselves. There is also the risk of being blamed, if the person dies, even if they have been given other conventional treatments that might have weakened them.

I remember the case of a friend who lost his beloved wife in an accident. It was only some time after her death that he realized he had never allowed himself to explore who he really was or do what he really wanted to do. The same might even be true of my husband, who is devoted to me and would do anything for me. Yet, because of that, he neglects certain parts of himself and hinders his own evolution. He might argue that he has evolved in ways he’d never otherwise have evolved, because of me, but the fact remains that we don’t always experience or even truly know ourselves if we are deeply attached to another.

Ideally, of course, the opposite would be true—we would grow and expand into the fullness of who we are, while enjoying the love and support of a loved one who only wanted what was best for us, whatever that turned out to be. And perhaps that is the lesson we learn in losing someone we love: how to love ourselves enough to explore all of the emotional issues triggered by their death. We might then be enriched rather than diminished by their passing.

Some say that there are no accidents. If so, then even accidents are not accidents. If that is true, then what extraordinary cosmic forces must be orchestrated to cause that fatal misstep, that fall from a ladder, that collision of specific individuals on the highway or that illness that takes their life? Yet others defy all the odds, living into their 90s, despite drinking, smoking and a total disregard for health.

What is the point of it all? What is the point of pondering it all? Perhaps it is the inherent mystery of life that keeps us searching for answers and a deeper understanding, pushing us to evolve.

We can never know how life and death will shape our evolution. But we can explore and experience the full spectrum of human emotion; we can love ourselves enough to feel things deeply and keep our hearts open; and we can find the fulfilment that comes from dedicating ourselves to being all that we can be… which will inevitably touch the hearts of others or change their lives in some way, even if we never get to see that.

How do you feel about trying to help loved ones who are ill/dying?

What gifts or insights have you unearthed due to the death of a loved one?

What parts of yourself have you discovered or healed as a result of losing someone you loved?