Whether the loss of a loved one occurs from a sudden accident, mass shooting, natural disaster, war, or disease, grief can be overwhelming for those left behind.
How do we learn to live with the pain of tragedy and loss? And how do we help ourselves and our children cope with grief in the most restorative way possible?
Following the death of my Grandad or my Nan, like many, I began to reflect on life’s terrors and abysses —about the painful challenges we are often asked to endure. Most of all, I hated the fact that myself would have to grieve throughout the rest of my life.
Coping with the Loss of a Loved One
A few months after their deaths in 2005 and 2012, I took a trip to the beach for some needed rest and recuperation. As I sat watching people build one sandcastles, I discovered a gift which would eventually lead me on my mutual journeys through grief.
With the help of good friends, I saw how people worked diligently to build the perfect sandcastle. With gentle encouragement I overheard the parents urging their children to be very creative with their castle. I watched them take great pride in shaping each room and each mounded tower as the castle slowly began to take its form. The joy and excitement of accomplishment was written all over their face. By the time the castle was complete, it had a moat, several tunnels, rooms of all shapes and sizes and, most of all, castle-like elegance.
As I observed the gratifying process of watching them build a sandcastle, I was keenly aware of my Nan and Grandad's absence. Like me, they loved to watch me play and took great pride in each of my new accomplishments. I felt devastated by their loss and so alone in my grief. Then, in the moment of my deepest pain, an enormous wave crashed on the beach and demolished that child's beautiful castle.
Like the normal child she was, Sarah reacted to the loss of her sandcastle with shock and anger. As the tears came to her eyes, she ran to me for comfort from this sudden disaster. In her outrage, she vowed never to build a sandcastle again! What she wanted most at that moment was the safe shelter of her mother’s arms.
But the parents wasn’t willing to let their child off the hook so easily. they walked over to where their child was sitting and began to explain the nature of sandcastle-building. I overheard them say, “Part of the joy of building a sandcastle is that, in the end, we can give it as a gift to the ocean.”
“This is what building sandcastles is all about,” they also said. “It lets us be gift-givers.”
Like most children, they love the idea of giving gifts and immediately responded with enthusiasm to the thought of building another sandcastle. In an instant, their tears turned to a smile. This time they wanted to build their castle even closer to the water, so the ocean would get its gift sooner!
Rebuilding Life After Loss
As I watched the children build and lose their castle, I began to see a parallel to my Nan and Grandad's death – to how we rebuild our own lives after the loss of a loved one. I visualized the castle as their life and the crashing wave as their death. I was shocked and angry when their castle was abruptly washed away. I, too, wanted the shelter and loving comfort of someone’s arms – my grandparent's
What I had missed until that moment was the loss of a loved one, and the concept of death itself, as a gift-giving process. Just as the sandcastle was a gift to the ocean, Nan and Grandad's life was a gift to me, my Mum, and all who loved them. My memories, like the sand on the shoreline, were in front of me — waiting to be touched and felt, ready to be used as building material in the healing process ahead.
Reshaping our life in periods of change and after the loss of a loved one is not an unfamiliar process. Like sandcastles we mold ourselves, constantly influenced by our families, friends, and surroundings. As we grow, we make choices to add new rooms and eliminate others. We build tunnels and bridges to connect our life with helpful people; we build walls and moats to protect ourselves from others.
Frequent storms and crashing waves reshape our castles from time to time. When a storm passes, we often take time for retreat and reflection. Sometimes we choose to make changes to our sandcastle — striving to make it a little closer to our own views of perfection.
To what end do we continually transform our sandcastle if it will be forever lost to the ocean?
That day I realized that although our lives are eventually washed away, the granules of our lives remain on the shoreline – they do not disappear.
Those granules of sand still exist, as a source of strength and renewal for those left behind and as building material for new and restored sandcastles to come.
When we remember famous people like Martin Luther King or John F. Kennedy, we can easily touch and feel the sands of their lives. Young people march in celebration of King’s birthday, filled with his ideas and memories. Their attitudes and behavior have been born through grief, through the simple yet empowering process of remembering someone who died.
Remembering the Gifts
Each life, from the most famous to the most obscure, is a meaningful part of a family touched by love. Grieving, then, becomes the process of standing at the shoreline, sifting through each granule of sand, remembering the person we loved. As we touch and feel each tiny piece of sand, we make choices to keep some and let go of others. The gifts we choose to receive help rebuild our own sandcastle – temporarily devastated by the loss of a loved one.
I returned from our day at the beach with a new perspective on my grief. I wanted to keep the art of sandcastle building closely in mind as I began to use the gifts of my Grandparent's love to rebuild my live.
But for the first time, I recognized the building material was right in front of us. I began to look at memories as a rich source of strength and courage instead of as an anchor to our sorrow. I understood this process would take a long time, that there were thousands of grains of sand to be closely examined.
Yes, I was numb and afraid, but I felt much more willing to tackle this awkward and confusing emotion we call grief. Together, my Mum and I remembered. Our families shared stories, over and over again throughout the years ahead. And indeed, those memories slowly helped us rebuild our lives.
For other families facing the loss of a loved one, you can help yourselves and your children by remembering the granules of the cherished life you loved and lost. Use those grains of sand to rebuild your own sandcastle so that someday your life will be forever etched in the hearts of those you love.