NYT cont'd

But the responses recorded in another area, called the nucleus accumbens, were more surprising. This region is part of the brain’s network for reward, the part that responds to, say, chocolate, and it was active only in people with complicated grief. Nobody knows why this is so, but Dr. O’Connor theorized that in the continuing yearning of complicated grief, being reminded of a loved one with pictures and words might have the same reward as seeing a living loved one. In regular, uncomplicated grieving, the reminder is no longer connected to a living reward but is understood as a memory of someone no longer here.

All of these studies, however, have limitations. Many of them are small and haven’t been replicated. The researchers also don’t have the resources to follow the participants over time to see whether those with higher risks for a disease eventually develop that disease. Many studies are also a snapshot of one point in time, and will miss the changes that occur in most people over months and years. Studies using fMRI have limits all their own, too: “A lot of things could make the same areas light up,” Dr. O’Connor said, “and the same thing might not make the same areas light up in everyone or in one person over time.”

Grief, biological and psychological, is of course the result of another hard-to-study state, human attachment or love. “Humans are predisposed to form loving bonds,” Dr. O’Connor said, “and as soon as you do, your body is loaded and cocked for what happens when that person is gone. So all systems that functioned well now must accommodate the person’s absence.” For most people, the systems adjust: “Our bodies are amazingly resilient,” she said.

In a recent issue of the research digest UpToDate, medical doctors outlined the most current scientific studies on bereavement. One way to think about grieving, they said, is that the feeling of connection to the person who died “gradually moves from preoccupying the mind to residing comfortably in the heart.” I’m unsure about that word, “comfortably,” but yes, I’m no longer preoccupied. Now, 34 years after my son’s death, I’m back in charge, and if pain never quite goes away, then neither does love.

Such an interesting article. Thanks for passing it on to us..

My biggest fear is having a child die. I would curl up into a ball and cease to exist.

My dad died when my parents were 65, my mom is now 92. She was always busy with friends and volunteer work but I found out about 5 years ago, that she has been lonely since the day he died.

^^^^^^ The absolute worst part of being a parent - that horrible fear that the most import parts of you are so vulnerable.

Excellent information, thank you for posting.

We've learned to understand the importance of grief and mourning when related to death, but loss is loss. I'm especially concerned about how loss effects children too young to understand or to express their feelings. Couldn't a child learn to expect -- and defend against -- deep feelings of loss, perhaps leading to a life of self-fulfilling prophecy? We fail to recognize when children experience loss as abandonment (every child's greatest fear).

Thanks for posting this.

There is so much yet to learn about the connections between the mind and body, and especially when it comes to complicated emotions like grief.

"that she has been lonely since the day he died."

Yes, she has been lonely for *him*. I'm busy, I see my friends, I'm active and going about life as normal, but I'm still lonely for my Mom. That's a spot in my heart no one else could ever fill.

I had a brother. He was the oldest. He died when he was six. I was born six years later. At one point when I was a young teen, I remember asking my mom about him. That was the first and last time. She couldn’t.

I don’t even want to think about that kind of pain.

Lonely for a loved one is so natural. I cannot count the days I have said to myself "Miss you Mom/Dad."

When you are pregnant with a child and you dream of the days he will go fishing, and play baseball and go camping. And then he will graduate high school and get a career and finding the woman of his dreams and getting married and have children of his own. Then you give birth to that child and two days later you learn he has Down Syndrome and all those things you thought he could do no longer exists. That child died with the diagnosis. You were given another child. A child who would struggle to learn anything. Everything he would do would be a challenge and even the little things would be celebrated, things any other mother takes for granted their child will learn with ease. Then a few days later you learn about other medical ailments that child has and you again, are given another child with less of a future and harder challenges. And coming to terms with those diagnosis takes years. I mean YEARS to come to terms with. It took me three years to finally face that my child would not be like all the other little boys. The grief was beyond horrible for three years. I cried myself to sleep almost every night. But put on that brave face during the day and heard, "You're so strong! How do you do it?" And I would just smile that brave smile and say, "there's other mothers with children worse off" as if to try to make what was wrong with my own seem less than what it was. Then when you realize you don't have the medical background to give that child everything he needs in life and you let another family raise him for you and you believe you're the worst person ever (and have been called that actually, for loving my son enough to allow him to have the best in life, even though I couldn't give it to him). And then one day get the call you knew for close to 35 years you were going to get: he is in ICU, get here fast. And then 3 days later, you have to allow the respiratory therapists to remove him from life support and watch him take his last breath in the same hospital you saw him take his first breath and still almost 8 years later, I still have not allowed myself to feel the same grief any other mother would feel because deep down inside I don't deserve to feel that same pain of losing a child, because I allowed someone else to raise him for me and her pain is still as strong today as it was July 31 2013. And no, I don't want the sympathy from anyone. NOBODY. Because this is not a fishing post. This is a how it is post. This is what my grief is. And I wish it on nobody.

Loss is loss, and grief is part of loss.

We can grieve for something we think we 'should' have had. I grieved for the never-born children I was unable to conceive. Our adopted son grieved for the birth family that 'should' have raised him. We both were better off admitting these losses to one another, summed up by something our boy said when he was about eight. He said, "Wouldn't it have been simpler if I'd just been born to you, Mom?"

A deep loss lodges inside you, and it can be reactivated to some degree when you experience even minor losses later.

A friend of mine did her masters psychology thesis on grieving for the never-born children she and her husband were unable to have. This was probably 25 years ago and the idea of grieving for an invisible loss such as this was, while not ground-breaking, was not well accepted at the time.

blfenton -- There's a lot of denial around infertility and the supposed 'fix' of adoption. Adoption has changed from finding homes for children who don't have one within their family of origin to finding children to please adoptive parents. It's all about the AP's. The birth mother's loss is glossed over, and zero thought is given to the child's loss, especially when the AP's think 'there's no difference'. (*They* don't grieve, and they are threatened that the child does in fact have other family, even in infant adoption.)

I'll just add on here rather than start a new thread. To everyone who posted about the anguish of a loss, my heartfelt wishes to you for a peaceful heart. Especially you, Debby. You did your best.

I'm struggling with the loss of my sister and best friend. She wasn't my beloved husband or cherished child, and we're in our 70's, but I'm having a tough time nevertheless. I did ok until the memorial for her 9 months after her passing. I could not stop crying, and seeing her name on a memorial bench in a park crushed me. It felt like a whiplash of grief. Three weeks later, my hair started falling out and has not stopped. I carry on and am basically happy, but I miss her so terribly. I just don't feel like I'm getting past this.

You will in time. So sorry for your loss, It took me over a year to get over the loss of my mother and I still have a bad time and it's been over 20 years now.

I lost my Dad when he was 73

I lost my DH to cancer....he was just 60. I still see his sweet smile and hear his

voice in my dreams.

I then lost my Mom less than a year later, then

a brother, and then my sister within about 4 years. I am (was?) the youngest of 4

kids..just my oldest brother and I left. Every single loss was due to that

damn Cancer of one kind or another. Watched them all in pain and agony,

as they slipped away.

I still miss my DH every single day...

I miss my sister every day and have to stop myself from picking up the phone to

call her (we talked at least 4 times a week..no matter where we lived).

I miss most of all? Slowly ending up losing absolutely everyone "who knew me when".

I treasure my DD, SIL and Grandsons...without them, life would not be worth staying.

I am so sorry for all of you for the painful, sad losses...my heart connects. Hugs.

Ahh, socks! I'm so sorry for your pain. Someone who was *always there* your entire lives. All of that 'dash' someone recently posted about -- all of the *living* between date of birth and date of death. It's grief. It takes your breath away to see this lifelong 'constant' vanish. We have no control here. What was 'a given', isn't one, after all. There's no 'time limit' on adjusting to the empty hole where there was always such closeness. We don't often even recognize the depth of our attachment until it's a missing piece.

It couldn't hurt to talk to a psychologist while you explore your grief. I think it's wonderful to have had such closeness. The depth of your feeling illustrates that tie -- now unable to continue. There's no need to force yourself to 'pull up your big girl panties' and 'get on with it'. That will come in time, but for now, I hope you will make an appointment and get support -- beyond the wonderful help here from your KT friends.

I am so sorry for all who have suffered loss. But that really is all of us. No one gets through this life without suffering. I can remember being a child and not understanding when my parents told me how lucky I was to be a child. I thought they meant all the responsibilities of adulthood -- bill paying and jobs and such. I had no idea, until I became an adult and suffered loss, that it was that dimming of your light which cannot shine as brightly in the world through the scar tissue of grief.

I'm very disturbed by your post, Debby, though. There is no reason for you not to allow yourself as much grief as you feel. It matters not the circumstances or the amount of time you spent with your son. You loved him and he's gone now. That is a true loss regardless of your relationship with him. You have an absolute right to your grief. Instead by restricting it in your own mind, you are continuing to punish yourself. He is beyond pain now and the last thing he'd want is for you to use him as a means to extend your own suffering. It was a very tough thing you've gone through, and I really think you would benefit by talking to someone safe about your situation.

What kind, inciteful words for Debby. I hope she comes back and reads them.

Sal, Chisue, thank you. Your words are helpful. Will give counseling some thought.

Sometimes I feel like I am anticipating grief. My mother passed away. My father is elderly and my sister has terminal disease. I have no significant other or children. I wonder and worry all the time about floating around in this world alone.

Boy, does this post strike home. I lost my husband of 50 yrs in June and I can't seem to move on. Living in the same house we lived together, I am flooded with his memories. Reminders of days in the past. I keep my grief inside because I know my grown children are worried about me. However, its such a deep feeling, not something I know how to focus away. He's everywhere, constant reminders of him.

I shop in stores and see the things he loved. I start getting upset and move quickly to another section. Sometimes I have to run to the rest room to control my crying. So many reminders. I saw the eggnog he loved which comes out at Christmas time. I had to leave.

Today, I told myself I need to talk to someone (who knows who)? Its hard to explain, the emotions come up so quickly and suddenly, they exhaust you. I feel like I've been hit by a truck. I can't get myself back.

The loss of a child is beyond my comprehension. I hope I never face that. I know I could not survive that.

The article posted, touches on the emotional, physical effects of grief. I feel physically exhausted.

I lost my father at age 6. My biggest reaction was to worry about my mother. I had never seen her cry. She was so strong. Her crying frightened me as a young child. That is all that I remember of my fathers death. The scene of my mother crying.

Grief and mourning should be studied. The physical effects on a person are beyond what anyone can describe. I know, I didn't know. Everyone say's, "keep busy, move on with your life." They don't know, they truly don't know.

Jane

I do not wish to dismiss the grief that people feel but I want to say we do not live in a culture that supports us in our phases of life. Dying is as natural as being born. We rejoice over a birth and in a more supportive world we could do the same when someone passes. No one is gone forever because we live in each other. Even when you dont feel it the people around you register that you were there. I have lost my parents and recently a brother but they are here through me. I have a terminal disease but I wont be totally gone because I interact with those around me. It is the cycle of life. We need to accept that. But grief and a sense of lose is not a bad thing. It tells me where I am in the arch of life. Live well and compassionately is what I take from that.

Did you know that if you subscribe to the NYT that you can share a certain number of articles each month on social media, email, forums etc.? You can copy a link that makes it viewable to non-subscribers.

https://help.nytimes.com/hc/en-us/articles/360060848652

jane, look up on the internet for grief counselors. It can be overwhelming and being able to talk to someone with whom you can freely express your emotions is important.

When my Mom was dying, she refused to talk about what was coming. She focused on staying upbeat and kept her sense of humor throughout. I was amazed at her strength and glad for her that she went out with the attitude she chose rather than one the disease forced on her. I understood what she was doing, but part of me wanted to talk to her about what was to come, to express to her the feelings I had and to learn from her what she was going through so I could help her through it. But she was never one to share her own grief with me. I think she was protecting me from the worst pain possible. This despite having lost both my father and my brother to suicide, and having been the one to find the bodies. She did go for counseling which helped her, as well as going for physical massages through which she found the power of touch to be healing.

I would also recommend meditation oasis podcasts...she has one specifically for grief which helped me a lot. It's not about fighting grief or trying to deny it, which only makes it more powerful. Rather, it's about being with it observing it, accepting it, not resisting it which will help it to dissipate.

https://www.meditationoasis.com/podcast See #26 as well as others on healing the heart.

Annie, I don't know how to respond to your kindness. I can't imagine what you went through with your parents and brother. God help you.

I hope I could have a fraction of your strength. I will listen to the podcast tomorrow. I was devastated when my mother died. She raised me as a single mother because my father died suddenly when I was 6. I have little memory of him. But my mom was my best friend. I loved her. As difficult as her death was, it didn't change my life. My kids were little and took my time, my home, husband kept me focused.

Now, my husbands death leaves me in limbo. I don't know how to go on, everything was based on our lives together. I feel lost.

patriciae, I agree with you. There is no mention of how to deal with the loss of a loved one. Yet it is part of living. Having lost a father as a child, my mother, my two brothers, somehow I got through it. My children are grown and have their own lives. I feel lost at age 72 without my partner. Everything in my later life revolved about our lives together.

How crazy is it that we really never think how to manage alone when so much involved the other person? I hope this feeling of being lost changes. My kids and family have been very supportive, but this emptiness is very personal and not something you feel until it happens. I know I never felt it before. It is a sense of being lost.

Jane

Jane, thank you for your kind words. You are strong, Jane. You've survived many things in your life, and you will survive this too. You are strong enough to know that you need help to get through this, and you will seek it and find it. You will find a way through this too.

For me, grief is like a wound that may scab over, but never goes away. With each new loss, that wound gets reopened again. Unfortunately, that pain becomes only more familiar.

But I also liken grief to waves in the ocean. At first you are tossed hard and frequently by these big waves that hit you. But over time, the waves become less powerful, less often and more manageable. You are able to withstand them and be upright for longer periods of time. That doesn't mean they ever go away. There are times when a rogue wave will come out of nowhere and hit you again for no apparent reason and you will find yourself in the grips of grief again. But with time, that happens less often. Understand though that the heart owns no clock, so how long that time is is different for each person and each loss. Only trust that it does and will happen.

Sending you thoughts of comfort, solace, courage and strength.

Yes, it’s that tsunami just when we think were doing ok. You have a lot of wisdom, Annie.

I’m using Meditation Oasis, Annie. Outwardly I’m carrying on (except for hair loss), inwardly, not so much. Thank you. for the link.

Jane, if only I had words to comfort you. You’ve lost a great deal over the years. Sending a hug your way and wishing you a peaceful heart.

socks, I hope you find the podcasts as helpful as I did. Sending you thoughts of comfort and solace.

One of my favorite sayings is that tranquility isn't freedom from the storm, but peace amidst the storm. It's at times hard to achieve, but always a worthwhile aim.

My other favorite comes from my meditation teacher who said, so long as you are breathing, more is right than is wrong.

When I was a kid I can remembering reading about the period of morning. People wore black. They were visibly marked as having lost someone. I was horrified to learn that widows had to wear black for as much as two years!! It seemed a shocking eternal length of time. Today I know that two years is nothing when a person is grieving. That black told the people around the person that had suffered a loss that it had happened, they needed to be treated gently and with consideration. Today we expect people to move on with their lives. Dont inconvenience people around you with your messy feeling. I actually knew a woman who lost her husband to melanoma and a coworker told me that since she had known it was going to happen why was she breaking down in tears in the office? We have to give people the space and time to grieve and make sure people who are in the freshness of loss get the time and space to process their loss. I dont know how to make that happen. All I know is that you have to find a place to put your loss and at the same time live your life. It has to take time. Jane I wish you well as you get to the point you can do that.