When someone we value deeply dies, emotional reactions and physical effects are inevitably interwoven. Initially, still shocked by the end of a precious life, some of us will be numb. Others may experience one dominant feeling such as anger or sadness and later, most probably, a combination of many feelings.  All of these will be determined by the circumstances of the death, our relationship with the person who died and our pre-existing personality.

Sorrow is in itself, according to an African proverb, ‘like a precious treasure shown only to friends’.  What is the lost treasure the proverb refers to – the treasure that we show to people we trust when we are made vulnerable by grief?

Treasures revealed will probably begin with a story about the person who died, the nature of our relationship with them and our shared experiences. If questioned further by an interested listener, we may describe their appearance, personality, abilities, achievements and endearing quirks.

If the trusted listener responds with animated sensitivity and probes further, we may even share intimate details like our sensory reaction to their voice, touch and smell and describe the role that they played in our life and ours in theirs. Roles are such an important part of our identity that when a significant role is lost through death, our grief may include self-questions like ‘who am I now?’.

With the death of a valued person, we may also lose a part of our history, a part that might only have been shared with them. We lose opportunities for sharing those magical, re-lived moments of ‘remember when …?’.

Many of our relationships have a public and a private ‘face’. The parts enjoyed in private are often the most precious. If the relationship was illicit, the private ‘face’ may be all that it ever was, and all it will ever be. A lonely place to grieve.

Many of us will grieve relationships which enhanced our enjoyment of the workplace, hobbies, pastimes and physical activities or relationships which facilitated our particular style of humor. We might have developed a unique way of looking at the world and together have been able to make sense of what initially seemed incomprehensible.

Whether the relationship we grieve was a deep connection of minds, hearts or a blend of both, the death of the other feels like lost treasure. In moments of reflection or in dreams we might still see and hear that special person, as if they are present in the very air that we breathe. As Colette wrote, ‘It is the image in the mind that binds us to our lost treasures, but it is the loss that shapes the image’.

The Crown Jewel

When someone we love or value dies, I think that the most precious and significant of the treasures we grieve is the way the person made us feel about ourselves. We may have seen in their eyes, their gestures and facial expressions or heard in their words an appreciation of who we are and what we do, the reflection creating a mutually beneficial circle of well-being.

Simple examples might be the reactions parents feel when their babies appear to recognize them and smile, a reward for sleepless nights and loving care, or the glow of satisfaction they feel when a child appreciates a meal lovingly prepared or a broken toy mended. Perhaps it is in the warm feeling we parents experience when a child of whatever age shares secrets, asks for advice or responds genuinely and warmly to parental generosity – evidence of mutual trust.

In the workplace, if colleagues warmly acknowledge our competence or achievements, we are likely to go the extra mile. If they respond to our humor with genuine amusement or acknowledge personal qualities by saying a version of ‘I really like the way you react to honest feedback’ or ‘I like the way you treat others with respect’, we are likely to improve our performance level. Genuine praise stimulates a feeling of warmth in us that we’re likely to pass on to others, creating a ripple effect that has the potential to be never-ending.

Most of us need to know why we are liked or loved. When partners give this kind of feedback to each other, parents give the same kind of feedback to their children, or children to their parents and friends to each other. Affection and trust deepen and are rewarded with loyalty. Appreciative acknowledgement of our value to another is like a precious jewel. The effect can be demonstrated by neuroscientists, an effect in our brain that can benefit every part of our body. No wonder we grieve when the giver of those precious ‘jewels’ dies.

In the safety of a counselling room, bereaved parents sometimes describe the child who died as their favorite. Folklore would have us believe that grief tends to make us see the dead people we love through rose-colored glasses, but that wasn’t my experience.

Mothers often described a male child as favourite because he showed the sensitivity they wished their husbands demonstrated. Fathers sometimes said the same when a daughter was more expressive and appreciative than their wives. Sometimes the child would be favourite because they demonstrated abilities parents wished they possessed, the child’s successes allowing them to bask in the glow of projected dreams and ambitions. But projections are linear and don’t create the kind of communication circles I’m advocating.

The ability to make others feel good about themselves is a rare and precious quality, an ability to be ‘other-centred’, which has no expectations of reward.

Most of us like to think we’ll be missed when we die. We want to feel that our contribution to the life of people we care about has been of value. A positive and achievable new year’s resolution for 2024 might be for all of us to become more generous and expressive – to reflect more openly the impact others have on us and on our wellbeing.

Many people I counselled over the years told me that grief enabled them to be less inhibited and more expressive. Some expressed regret that they had been unable to make that change within their relationship with the person who died but choose now to honour their memory by giving feedback more freely in current relationships.

If you are bereaved and would value help to become more expressive in the future or want a compassionate and appreciative person to understand the precious jewels you have lost, please reach out to the team at the NCCG by phone 1300 654 556, email [email protected] or use their free email outreach service at [email protected]. They are specialists in caring for both adults and children of all ages 3 an older impacted by grief and bereavement.

An NCCG Blog
By Dianne McKissock OAM
Co-founder, National Centre for Childhood Grief
December 2023