The Grief Suitcase

I was just out walking with a wonderful friend. We share a lot in common but, unfortunately, one of those things is that we have suffered the loss of a loved one who died too soon.  At some point along the walk we got to talking about how grief has affected our resilience and how hard it is to explain that to others who may become impatient or frustrated. I shared an analogy with her and she encouraged me to share it here, so that others could understand us better. So here it is - the grief suitcase.

All of us have a place where we store away the hurts, losses and disappointments of life. Let's call that place a suitcase. Many people are lucky enough to go through life with only small hurts, losses and disappointments. For those people, there is always plenty of room in the suitcase; it closes easily, and without much effort they can shove it under their bed where their hurts and losses are out of sight and out of mind. That was true for me, too, before I lost Emma.

When I lost Emma, the pain from that loss was excruciating and overwhelming. I worked for months and months to shove it into the suitcase, but it couldn't be folded up neatly and the suitcase wasn't big enough to hold it. Eventually, I got it in there, but then I couldn't close the suitcase. I would sit on the lid to try force it to close, but it was just too full. Finally, after months of sitting on the suitcase, I got it to close and latch; but it bulged from the top and sides. I tried to shove it under the bed, where it would be out of sight and mind, but the bulging case just didn't fit. So there it stayed, in the middle of the room. I could see it plainly and most days, if I set my mind to it, I could avoid tripping over it. But every so often, especially when I was having a dark day, I would trip over that grief suitcase and stub my toe, sending shooting pain and grief all through my body.

The worst part was when life dealt me a new hurt, loss or disappointment, even if it was a small one in the eyes of others. Then I stared at that over-stuffed suitcase and wondered how I would fit one more thing in there. I gingerly pried open the latches, hoping not to disturb the contents inside, but the inevitable happened. Once the latches were released, the over-stuffed contents exploded out of the case and were strewn all over the room. I had to scramble to gather up all that pain and grief again and try to shove them back into the suitcase and sit on the lid until it closed enough that I could latch it, and that could take weeks; weeks of disruption and distraction and just plain sadness.

Resilience is slow to return for someone who has suffered a profound loss. We are hurt more easily and forgive less readily. It is one of many ways we are a different. We have to learn to accept this about ourselves and can only hope that others can accept and understand it, as well.