What is normal?  I ask myself this question often and sometimes I ask it several times within a day.

You are probably wondering why in the world would I ask myself this question and more importantly what does it possibly matter.  Well, it does matter and it matters a lot not only to me, but to a large part of the population that knows loss.  I mean did you know that there are primary and secondary losses in our lifetime?  Primary losses are major and often are the death of an individual.  Secondary losses are the ripple that stems from the initial loss and can impact relationships, financials, and lifestyle to name a few areas.  Then there is this symbolic loss which relates to how someone identifies with their role(s) or identity in the future.

The next thing I am going to share is that there are various types of grief.  For most individuals we think of grief as being one dimensional; that could not be further from the truth.  What makes grief so complicated is how it can impact our social, emotional, physical, mental, and spiritual well-being.   Even in normal grief (yes it is a thing) all of these areas can be impacted.  What separates normal grief from other types of grief, is that a person often moves towards acceptance of the loss, with characteristics of grief subsiding over time.

What are other types of grief?

• Anticipatory Grief
• Complicated Grief
• Prolonged Grief
• Cumulative Grief
• Traumatic Grief
• Disenfranchised Grief

Suicide can be categorized by disenfranchised grief and traumatic grief, but is not limited to these two areas.  In our situation, Isaac’s death could easily fall into these two categories, plus complicated grief.  Not only was there the stigma of his death by suicide that we had to hold and process, but the trauma in knowing something was wrong and we could not save him, then learning to live each day without him complicates our grief. Do we function?  Better now than before, but his loss is forever felt by all of us who knew him in person.

Sharing all of that leads me back to ask, “what is normal?”  That question takes on such different meaning since Isaac died. I thought as a seasoned social worker and having some “street smarts” that I had that question relatively figured out. His death softened my heart on that question even more and made me realize just how elusive the concept of normal really is in this lifetime. We often think of normal as something to obtain or reach for when we ask ourselves how we are coping.  Maybe a better question to ask is, “how does my heart feel in this moment?”

One of my favorite quotes is from Rumi, a 13th century Persian poet.  His quote says, “Your heart knows the way.  Run in that direction.”  Often in my grief I am so overwhelmed by the flood of emotions.  To be honest, I refused any medication attempts because I did not want to further numb my heart.  I wanted to feel ALL of what coursed through me, and oddly enough people said that wasn’t normal.  I would like to think instead of the statement being “that’s not normal” we could be more intentional with our words and perhaps say something like, “you should do what is best for you.”

Normal is overrated.

Normal coping strategies did not fit any of our needs when we lost Isaac to suicide.  We moved through the tasks of grieving with zero expectations of the outcome and when we would arrive in each task.  The modern world wanted to fix us, and we just wanted to simply be.  In fact, both work and school officials called us in the first month asking when we would “return” to our jobs because two plus week passed without us even thinking to return to our responsibilities. Time stood still and it become evident that what was normal before would no longer be our reality.  We had to feel, and each day brought something new to hold.

As a family, the extension of grace and endless love is what ultimately moved us forward, transforming our grief.  Knowing that Isaac no longer had a body did not mean he was gone.  It just meant the energy of his spirit we so desperately wanted was no longer restricted by a body.  We had to shift our thoughts of how he engaged us and in true Isaac fashion, abundant signs of his presence appeared and continue to appear.  The most beautiful part is there is nothing normal about how we transformed our grief.  We did what was right for us individually and as a family.

Our hearts let us know if we are moving in the right direction, especially in each first that continues to be experienced 2.5 years later.

How about you, do you feel supported in your grief?