What Is Grief?

Trigger warning: divorce.

In the Marvel television show Wandavision, the facsimile of the android Vision confronts Wanda about her burgeoning rage, and the grief that underlies her rage. He asks: “what is grief, but love persevering?”. Wanda is facing the loss of her parents, as a child, the loss of her brother in the recent war against Ultron, and the loss of her imaginary children in the context of the show. With so much loss, it is no wonder she was turning to rage as a means to insulate herself from the pain of the losses. I know the feeling.

Four days ago I celebrated my fourth wedding anniversary for the second time. That is, a second fourth wedding anniversary. My first fourth anniversary was hardly a celebration as it was mere months away from seeing my divorce finalized. That was a hard blow to absorb. I was not divorced by my choice; I would have rather worked on the marriage and rebuilt it as necessary, but that didn’t happen. Ten years on from that marriage ending, I am still dealing with that loss.

I thought I was over it, past it, done with feeling the pain of that loss. But then I saw, quite by accident, a photo of my ex on a friend’s social media account. There she smiled, alive and well, and quite divorced from me and my life. And it hit me like a sucker punch to the back of the head. All the pain, the loss, and yes, the rage, of the divorce came racing back. It was physical, visceral, and quite overwhelming for a few minutes. Thankfully, I now have tools and equipment to deal with such emotionality where before I did not. I was able to center myself, breathe, and refocus. But it still hurt.

In my grief renewed, I remembered the love that perseveres. The love I once held for my former wife, the love we shared for all too brief a time, and the love of the togetherness. All of that is gone now, practically speaking, but some must persevere. For why else would I feel such grief ten years later? I realize as well that grief is never-ending. Sure, we can bury it, ignore it, compartmentalize it, and think we have moved past it, but when it charges back into our hearts? It is then we know the pain of loss never fully left.

I don’t think severe mental or emotional pain ever really leaves. And I think, too, that we as humans would lack something without it. Humans are social creatures, this we know, and part of that society is forming connections, relationships, and partnerships. Beyond marriages, we have families, friends, co-workers, and acquaintances. All of these liaisons inform and build who we are throughout our life, and when one of those connections ends, brief or long-lasting, significant or ethereal, there is a loss. And we grieve that loss. For something like an acquaintance, it may barely register. But for a life-partner or a family member, it usually lingers. That love perseveres the rest of our lives.

I have a life-partner once again, and it is with her I celebrated the second-fourth anniversary. I share love with her, and I am thankful for her presence. She enriches me so much in so many ways, and I trust I do the same for her. Her love cannot, and does not, diminish what I had for my ex, nor does the enduring love for my ex shade my current love. Love, quite simply, doesn’t work that way. It is not a zero-sum game. Love grows as we grow, and encompasses much. This is why a new wife’s love cannot replace what was before, and neither can an old flame extinguish a new. Love is to be shared and that never ends.

This is also why it hurts in perpetuity when a love is no longer shared, either through death or legal separation. Because one party holds an echo of that love but it can never again be reflected. Love stretches into what is now a void, unheard. Love perseveres, hence: grief. So what do I do? I practice my coping techniques, and I continue to move forward with my life. I don’t, and didn’t, wallow in my grief renewed, nor did I begrudge it its place. I felt it, observed it, and continued. I do the same whether it is a reminder of my ex, or of my beloved grandparents who are no longer with me, or even of friends who have passed beyond my daily reach.

Whoever wrote that line for Paul Bettany to voice as Vision evidences wisdom. I am not sure I would have expressed it that way, and that is the simple brilliance: it is a quiet phrase, but one that holds so much breadth. That’s why I love good storytelling, incidentally. A good story speaks so much truth into my existence, and guides me to reframe what I feel in new ways and gives novel paths to experience those feelings. Everything builds on what came before to construct what is and provide scaffolding for what will be.

Why enumerate all this? This, too, is a way I process grief: through words and sharing of experience. The Bible has a saying: “rejoice with those who rejoice; mourn with those who mourn” and I think that is true, valuable, and proper. As social creatures, our emotions are to be shared as much as our resources and company. By presenting my grief, and insights, I can build a community with you who reads, because we are both human, and therefore share a commonality of experience. I help you, and you help me: that is humanity. We mourn together, this love lost, and we also rejoice in my new found love of four years now. Where one withered and died, the other is growing and thriving. So thank you for sharing my cries and my smiles. We are in this together, and that is a wonderful thought.