How do we heal from a pandemic of collective grief?

From their initial pairing in 1927, Stan Laurel and Oliver Hardy made up one of the twentieth century’s most beloved comedy duos. Upon Hardy’s death in 1957, Laurel wrote: “What’s there to say? He was like a brother. That’s the end of the history of Laurel and Hardy.”

And he meant it. Stan Laurel never again appeared on stage or in a film. He lived out a solitary life in a tiny apartment in Santa Monica, California — answering fan mail and his telephone. His number was listed so he’d often end up chatting with any curious fan who dialed. 

Laurel was notoriously the workaholic of the two comics — perpetually conjuring up gags for the team. After Oliver passed, Stan never stopped writing bits for himself and his partner. Until his own death in 1965, Laurel privately and lovingly penned sketches he knew would never be performed. 

This is such an incredible expression of mourning birthed from within a culture that attempts to downplay and deny grief. 

Everyone experiences grief but so few want to talk in-depth about it. As a result, something with the potential to bond us instead remains a mystery. We connect over grief, not as a universal human condition but rather, as yet another topic barred from polite conversation. Our avoidance goes as far as choosing euphemisms like “passing away” instead of uttering the word “death.”

Consider a common way many of us are first conditioned to perceive grief. Let’s say a grade school teacher had a death in the family. Typically, after about a week of absence, she’d return to the front of the classroom. Life went on. The tacit lesson: Grief is not unlike catching a cold. It may keep you home for a few days but just buck up and stop crying. You’ll recover soon enough and things will return to normal. 

It’s no surprise that we’ve each internalized so many myths and misconceptions pertaining to grief. Here are a few to ponder:

Grief is an Emotion

It’s really an evolving bundle of volatile and persistent emotions. The contents of this bundle vary from person to person and then, from day to day, hour to hour… and so on.

Grief is Something to “Get Over”

You never “get over” a loss. At best, you learn to live with it. That said, please brace yourself for some well-intentioned but counterproductive “advice,” like:

• “At least they’re not suffering anymore.”

• “They’re in a better place now.”

• “They wouldn’t want you to be sad.”

• “You have to be strong.”

Grief Exists on a Timeline of 5 Stages 

There’s nothing linear about mourning. Some “stages” may exist but they come and go as they please. There is no one “right” way to grieve and there is no way to effectively prepare for it. Remember, we’re not only grieving for who or what we’ve lost. We concurrently grieve for ourselves and for potential experiences of which we’ve been deprived. 

It’s pretty obvious why some prefer not to talk about this particular topic, huh? I hope it’s becoming even more obvious why we desperately need to follow the lead of Mister Rogers and openly discuss this particular topic. As he often stated, anything mentionable can become manageable. A big part of something being mentionable is having people to mention it to. Create a support system, if you can. As Bill Shakespeare advised, “Give sorrow words.” 

Grief is Only About Death

Far from it. We can and must mourn any loss we deem worthy. We may grieve the loss of tangible entities like our health, a job, relationships, financial security, homes, etc. Equally as germane right now are the more abstract losses any of us can experience, for example, loss of innocence, youth, safety, control, stability, confidence, optimism, trust, and so much more. 

“Time heals all wounds”

I’ll leave this explanation to the wonderful Joan Didion, who counsels: “Grief is different. Grief has no distance. Grief comes in waves, paroxysms, sudden apprehensions that weaken the knees and blind the eyes and obliterate the dailiness of life.” With this in mind, please remain aware that grief can become unmanageable whether it’s mentioned or not. Complicated grief is a serious condition. Ask for help, please. 

People Close to You Will Understand

Speaking of grief getting complicated, be warned: Reaching out to lean on people you expect to be supportive doesn’t always go as planned. As a result, some mourners may end up suffering twice: once from the loss, and a second time from the lack of understanding or useful support from the people closest to them. It’s very hard for grieving people to stand up for themselves and if they do, they risk being judged for grieving “poorly.” 

Take-home message: It is absolutely crucial that we never invalidate someone else’s grief and never allow anyone to invalidate ours. If someone you know is grieving a loss, resist the urge to find the “right” words. Instead, make space for that person to talk about who or what they’ve lost. Be patient and empathetic and available. Offer your full attention whenever you’re able to do so. 

If it’s you who is grieving, go where your bereavement leads you. Do so while resting on a foundation of compassion and self-compassion. Stay present through the immutable process of loss. Feel what you need to feel, cry as much as you need to cry. 

Remember: This is your story to write.

And hold on firmly to whatever meaningful ways you have to keep emotions, rituals, spirits, and memories alive in your heart. Perhaps you can take some inspiration from the Stan Laurel story that began this contemplation. It doesn’t matter if the sketches you write will ever get performed. What might matter — more than you ever imagined — is that you just keep on writing them.