Does Changed Grief Mean I’ve Changed?

My daughter Helen, mother of my twin grandchildren, died 11 years ago. The 10^th anniversary of her death was especially hard and I’m not sure why. I only knew that Helen wasn’t part of my life. Death robbed me of a future with her, a painful truth I face each day.

I wasn’t just grieving for my daughter. Three more family members died the same year—my father-in-law, my brother, and the twins’ father. Two nagging questions kept appearing in my mind: Could I survive such sorrow? If I survived, would I be the same person?

The cause of death influences grief. Helen died from the injuries she received in a car crash. Mayo Clinic surgeons operated on her for 20 hours and couldn’t save her life. Blunt Force Trauma was the cause of death, three words I don’t like to type, let alone say. 

Experience influences grief. My father and mother had died, aunts and uncles had died, friends and beloved pets had died. I thought these experiences would help me grieve for Helen and they did. But the death of a child is like no other.

Helen’s death was sudden and I wasn’t prepared for it. I couldn’t waste time on self-pity, however, because my husband and I were appointed as the twins’ guardians. I made a promise to myself and vowed that death would not prevail. Life would prevail.

As months became years, I realized I was changing. I didn’t think of Helen every minute. I was able to tell stories about her without sobbing. I wrote articles and books about grief reconciliation/recovery. I gave workshops about affirmation writing as a grief recovery step. While hope was on the horizon, I wondered if I was forgetting Helen.

I wasn’t. Lynda Cheldlin Fell, a bereaved parent and co-founder of the International Grief Institute, thinks we grow into our grief. In the beginning, grief knocks us down flat, and we don’t think we’ll be able to stand again. But the human spirit is resilient and, if we do our grief work and have support, we can stand again and stand tall.

Before Helen died I knew what was important and what wasn’t. Today, I’m acutely aware of these differences and grateful for every moment of life. I’m more empathetic than I used to be and try to help others who are grieving.

I honor Helen with Action Memorials, the term I created to describe things I do to honor of my deceased loves ones. We give to the local food bank each year in memory of Helen, for example. Helen had a quick wit and every time I have a belly laugh I dedicate it to her—another Action Memorial.

Did grief change me? Of course, the answer is yes, but it’s a qualified answer. The core values I had before Helen died—honesty, hard work, persistence, kindness—are the same. My personality is the same, only I consider myself an improved version of me. I’m a stronger person than I was in 2007 when Helen died.

Grief experts Dr. Gloria Horsley and Dr. Heidi Horsley say grief changes us, but it doesn’t define us. With the help of loved ones, caring friends, and organizations such as The Grief Toolbox, I created a new life from the ashes of grief. This isn’t the life I envisioned, but it’s a happy, satisfying life. Grief changed me and I changed myself.

I’m still growing into my grief.