Until We Said Goodbye
Anything you lose comes around in another form.
-Rumi-
On Trauma, Grief, and the End of Life: A Deep Reflection
It is true that many Social Workers, therapists, counselors, psychologists, and other helping professionals, have been drawn to the healing professions due to their personal history, often related to mental-health challenges, trauma, grief and loss. Unfortunately, due to the strong societal and self-stigma, discrimination, and oppression, few acknowledge their personal story, engage in the inner work to heal their own wounds, or take heed of the lessons that life has taught them. Additionally, it is much easier to look outwardly, to the problems of their clients and of the world, than to look within and engage in ongoing inner work. It is a defense mechanism, in and of itself.
However, without necessary ongoing inner work to develop better self awareness, any professional can do harms to their clients and to the world, because of the professional’s negative self-projections onto their clients and the clients’ lives. (FYI—There is a huge difference between learning or talking about trauma and actually doing the inner work to heal one’s trauma wound).
Here’s something I’ve known to be true—even though we may resist, deny, run or hide from our unresolved trauma, grief and loss, by the time we arrive at the end of life, there is no more time or space for blaming, shaming, hiding, delaying or running away from it any longer. For this is the final stop before the last major transition—Death.
Everything comes up for a long hard review at this final stop. Since there is no more time for lies or deceits, the Dying always speak the truth when they are at the end of life. Many come to moment of reckoning with life’s lessons, especially those unfinished matters of the heart—some are learned and well applied; some usually are a little too late to make amends. But some of us need not to wait until the end of life to learn those lessons. In fact, many of those lessons can be learned now.
If we are brave enough to do the Soul work of unpacking those bricks and tearing down those walls we have built around ourselves for so long, to allow ourselves to be vulnerable and open our hearts to let Love come in, the end of life can be a rich and magical time for deeper healing to take place—for both the one who is preparing for the departure and the one who is staying behind.
Soul Work: Healing in the End of Life
Soulful French music had been playing in the corner of my living room since February of this year. It had accompanied the many great conversations (and some very tough ones) that I had had with my father. Certain songs were on many rounds of repeat, for they reminded me of those beautiful days of my childhood.
We spent much of our last few months reviewing his life journey, strolling through the memory lane together, and reflecting on many precious moments of our early years—something I have cherished deeply with every fiber of my being. With each dialogue, I’d learned more about the man behind the uniforms, the many roles and titles that he took up during his lifetime. We also had many more exchange about the philosophy of life and life’s lessons. He became a man of fewer words, much more accepting of his new reality and surrendering to Death after many years of fearing it.
Our last afternoon spent in the outdoors, the air was warm and breezy, caressed by this gentle touch of lightness and sweetness—one of Peace and one of Love, that floated seamlessly back and forth between us.
There are certain things in life that do not need to be spoken in order to be felt or understood.
* * *
Truth be told, he was never good at admitting his mistakes, expressing his feelings or showing affection directly to those who needed to receive them. Rather, he found a sense of comfort and safety through hiding his sorrow, pain, softness and tender heart in his aloneness, writing and poetry. Of course, how else would he be? He was raised in a family system, a culture, a generation, and a society that taught him that vulnerability and softness are signs of weakness. I’m not sure if he ever knew what Love really was until his last few months of living. For most of his life, trauma occupied the main seat in his home, and that was all he knew—both wounding and being wounded.
Many times, I could hear and see so clearly a wounded young child in him coming out of his hiding, as certain repressed memories of his early childhood resurfaced. On quite a few occasions, it did require me to draw the line with him, and set some firm limits to put an end to his temper tantrums, and manipulative behaviors when he didn’t get his way.
This man, who became more like a child in those moments, begged for my forgiveness on many things he had done—both the wrongs he did decades ago and the ones in recent months. The man of an era, who spent years dwelling in the dark realm of political warfare, sacrificing much of his life for his country, and romancing the ladies with his poetry, slowly shed all of those outer layers and simply returned to a whole human once again, as he began living more from his beautiful tender heart space. And to be honest, I liked this man a lot.
After all these decades, he finally learned how to respectfully and lovingly communicate what he needed, and how to be vulnerable within a safe and loving relationship with another human being. Tears of both joy and melancholy came more easily for him, and he had no shame in showing them. In fact, he often shared those feelings out loud without me reaching for them.
The words, Thank you, along with other sincere verbal appreciation became more dominant in his vocabulary during his last few months, more than I had heard from him my entire life. Like an unpretentious child, he gleefully told me again and again, that my presence was the best medicine he could ever ask for. Our in-person visits, though brief and infrequent due to the facility’s restrictions, were something he looked forward to every week.
* * *
We talked candidly about details of his funeral arrangement, and his cremation service. Often, it was me initiating questions about his final wishes of what he’d like me to help him fulfill prior to his departure. Because of his grief, he kept certain things to himself, but little did he know, I’d learned to read him well.
It was rather bittersweet for me to witness such transformation in him at this final stage in his life. What can I say, he was such a late bloomer. But it certainly made all of the sacrifices worth it.
It is true that the Dying always know when their departure is near. He counted the months, sometimes the years. But I knew better. So, I counted our moments—both the beautiful and not-so-beautiful ones. And I am grateful for them all—even our family’s pains, for Love survived these seasons, and forgiveness eased us into second chances.
Although he is now gone, soulful French music continues to play on in my home … for always.
Lessons from the Dying
As I spent hours and days companioning my father out of his physical existence, there was a certain Peace that washed over me, knowing that I had done everything within my might to fulfill my promises to him. When the moon almost reached its fullness in July, we were ready to say goodbye to each other, though I did ask him to linger just a tad bit longer, just so he could get to bid his farewell to a particular family member, who was many months late in their arrival.
Watching him dying, and listening to his truths, some realizations and confirmations came to me. There is no question that love and relationships are the most important things in life. But love alone will not make a relationship work. You can love someone, be it a family member, a close friend, a romantic partner or a group of people, and still choose to cut ties with them. For certain people, their capacity to love only comes from a place of insecurities and woundedness, due to unresolved trauma and past hurts. Sometimes, the best and only way to love someone is to let them go and wish them well.
Forgiveness has the magic to transform us and our relationships. But forgiving people doesn’t always mean that we have to repair a broken connection, because some connections are better off to be left broken, especially if they are abusive (i.e., manipulative, demeaning, disrespectful), volatile, high-conflict and contributed only chaos, confusion, and toxicity to our lives and wellbeing.
* * *
No one on their deathbed ever said, I wish I had spent more time at work, added extra zeros to my bank account, owned more assets, gained a larger following on social media, sold more books, or had more people like my posts.
Instead, the Dying would say:
I wish I could spend more time with the ones I love and the ones who love me, to see their face and hear their voice for one last time.
I am a blessed person because out of all the places you can be right now, you choose to be here with me.
Please don’t put your life on hold because of me. You must go on living and live well.
Believe in love again and give marriage a chance. But you must exercise your discernment and choose wisely of the one who is true to you, for that is the only one who is deserving of your heart.
In everything you do, give it your all and the Universe will take care of the rest. And if you have to walk away, you will have no regrets.
Life has to end but Love is eternal—it is the gift that heals, mends, and lives on.