The Wholeness That Emerges From Brokenness

It's possible to be both Broken and Whole

Source: Image by Pexels from Pixabay

Loss shatters us. It brings us to our knees, leaving us raw, vulnerable, lost and uncertain about how to go on. Yet, in the depths of grief, there is the possibility of summoning newfound courage and honoring ourselves and our loved ones by fighting our way back into life. The path forward from brokenness and inconsolable sorrow is not about "moving on," “recovering,” or "getting over" our loss, but about patiently allowing our brokenness to become part of a deeper, more self-compassionate part of our wholeness.

Grief requires us to listen to ourselves. It demands that we recognize when we need to quiet our thoughts, place our hands on our hearts, and provide loving care for our broken hearts. Sometimes, this means no more than taking a deep breath. Self-care might also be a walk in nature, watching a silly movie, going to a support group or surrounding ourselves with people we trust who listen, nourish, and support us. We must give ourselves permission to grieve in ways that meet our deepest needs and emotions—not by abiding by other people’s norms and expectations.

At the core of healing from any kind of loss is self-compassion. Keeping our hand on our heart and our foot off our throat gives us the patience, understanding, faith, encouragement, and support that we need to bear the pain. Instead of berating ourselves for our sorrow with judgement, impatience, and harsh self-criticism, we can learn to acknowledge our pain with words like: How could I not feel broken? How could I not feel lost? Embracing our sorrow with kindness and patience, we integrate love, patience, and understanding into the fabric of our new reality.

Over the years, I have also discovered eight "honorings" that guide us toward a sense of wholeness and healing after we have suffered a loss. These guidelines, all of which are featured in my book, How We Go On, have helped me and the people I have supported in their dark night of the soul to survive and turn deep sorrow, despair, helplessness, and confusion into faith, love, courage, resilience, and meaning.

1. Survive Their Passing – We honor those we have lost by summoning the strength to go on. We do this by practicing self-care, being patient with ourselves, surrounding ourselves with kind and supportive people, learning when to say “Yes” and when to say “No,” and developing the courage, faith, and patience to fight our way back into life.

2. Do Good in Their Name – Every act of goodness we perform in memory of our loved ones is sacred. We can honor them, for instance, by lighting a candle, saying a prayer, or selflessly engaging in something that reflects their values—or a cause related to how they died.

3. Cultivate a Spiritual Relationship With Them – Though we may not have absolute certainty about what comes after this life, we can stay connected to our loved ones—speaking to and listening for them, sensing their presence and allowing their love to guide us. We can tap into, cultivate, express and even deepen the love that never dies in what I call the Spiritual Realm.

4. Embody Some Part of Their Essence – We honor our loved ones by integrating sacred aspects of their character into our own lives. If they were kind, let us be kinder. If they were courageous, let us be courageous. If they were playful, let us be more playful. This is yet another honorable way of keeping them alive within us.

5. Take the High Road – The pain of grief can make us short-tempered, reactive, and raw. But it can also grant us compassion, empathy, and understanding. We must learn to use our pain to be patient, forgiving, and understanding—extending grace to those around us.

6. Write New Chapters of Life – This can be the most challenging of all the honorings and takes great courage. It can be painfully difficult to give ourselves permission to live out the rest of our own lives. Writing new chapters after they’re gone and allowing joy, laughter, and love to return may seem like a disingenuous betrayal of our lingering sorrow – and of them. As we go on, creating new memories, we might allow ourselves to imagine them feeling our love and a sense of relief that we have found the strength and courage to carry on.

Grief is paradoxical. My daughter, Jenna, is gone—and yet, she has never left my side. I held her body when it was returned from India by then President Clinton, knowing she was gone. But she was also with me and has been for 29 years now. I honor my angel daughter, Jenna, and my earth daughter, Stephanie, by loving them unconditionally. Being broken and whole is the essence of healing and going on with life after a tragic loss. I walk with a limp in my heart, and yet I keep walking. There is no shame in my brokenness. It is truly the most cherished part of my wholeness.

When we take a deep breath, honor those we have lost, and continue writing the story of our own lives with gratitude, love, hope, faith and wisdom, we must humbly honor the mysterious, unknowable elements of this life as well.