The Secret Society of the Bereaved

There’s a secret society of the bereaved. 

Sorry if I’m spilling the beans, but this has surprised me and made me very curious.

The day I shared with the world that my mother became an ancestor was when I received my invitation to this society. Texts messages and DMs welcoming me into the club. Some even called it a sorority. But excuse me, I don’t want to be a part of this organization. You can take back this membership. These aren’t the letters I always wanted.

I thought, “What an odd thing to say to someone after a loved one passes away?” I vowed never to say that to anyone. 

I wondered where all these people came from. I never knew they were bereaved. So when I finally decided to come outside a few weeks after laying my mother to rest, I would get a range of sympathy hugs, deeply sad and hurt faces and invitations to connect.

Connecting with people was a way to escape the grief, so I thought this would be okay. People like to connect with me to pitch themselves for opportunities to be written about or included on a panel. I took on some invitations, thinking they were all for business.

Instead, these meetings turn into revelations that the person was part of the secret society of the bereaved. Every time, I’m surprised by how they have been able to hide their little cloud or shadow of grief. They can exist without it showing up in their everyday lives. At least, that’s what it seems. I assumed time helped with that. Why was their loss so secret? Time has passed for me but even now, I feel like that loss will shape me for the rest of my life. I’m not me without you knowing about her.

The people who were unveiling their bereavement were able to control the burden of grief, letting it out when it made sense. Their grief was now like a firefly trapped in a container. They carry that container around in their purse, pocket and coat, but never show their secret. My grief was and still is fluttering around untamed. In our meetings, they proceeded to tell me about their grief journey and offer advice. Each person would extend the opportunity to connect again. When the meeting ends, I watch them disappear and take their grief. For some of them that was the last time I would see their grief exposed.

Different types of members of the bereaved

I’ve met different people in this bereaved society and some of them I group together because they were similar in their approach to welcoming me in their club.

A few people left it up to me to engage with them on grief. They showed their bereavement membership card in our first encounter, but you realize they can’t show up for you how you hope they could. Sometimes, I wonder if my grief triggers this group of people? Did they reached out to me because it was the nice thing to do or because of the politics of it all. I always them again outside of our intimate gathering; I get an acknowledgment from across the room, but they won’t engage: their secret is safe with me. 

Some bereaved people are very eager to be there for me, but in their grief-sharing, I may have found them off-putting. Some members of the bereaved society have been there so long they forget to meet you where you are in your grief. Six weeks in grief is different from 11 months. Two years is different from six years. 

The things I found off-putting included dismissing my personal experience with general and blanket statements of comfort. I hope I never become a walking Hallmark card. Some people approached me as though all loss is created equal, and honestly, it isn’t, but everyone’s grief is personal and unique to them. Other bereaved people are too triggered by your grief and all though their intent is to comfort you, you end up comforting them. A few thought they were experts at this thing called grief, but I didn’t like being talk at and never given you space to talk or feel. When you are new to this, it is a scary, strange, and chaotic experience. You need someone to listen and, at times, validate your feelings.

Again all of this happens when people invite you to the table and not meet you where you are in your grief.

I didn’t have a lot of good experiences being introduced to the society of the bereaved, but I’ve found some gems in this society. They have been my warrior guides.

Inspired to share more about my grief 

Six months into my grief journey, I found myself being a companion to my friend who would enter this society. I didn’t feel equipped to be her guide, but I hope I have been a source of comfort and a reminder that she is not alone in this.

Since I lost my mother, I have had seven people in my connected community experience the same awful loss. Every person has said that they wish more of us talk about this. Why does this have to be so secret?

We are walking in this world trying to cope and at the same time make everyone else feel comfortable. Shouldn’t it be the other way around? Where is the space for us to be in our grief and all of it’s layers without judgement.

I battled with sharing more about my experience as a fear of being seen or boxed in as a “grief lady.” I don’t think grief is my “thing,” and I don’t have a handle or grasp of this, so I’m no expert, but it is all I want to talk about and write about. I have learned that there is no wrong way to be bereaved. All you can do is be.

So I need to honor that. I have to get it out of me to free myself, so here I am starting.

I will share what I’m feeling and how I’ve been feeling. If it helps someone feel seen, that’s amazing. You aren’t alone in this.

But ultimately, I’m doing it for me.