Rethinking the Stages of Grief

"Where are the rules of grief written, and who do we offend when we write our own?" -Sally Britton

For the life of me, no matter how many losses I've experienced, I never recognized myself in any of the common stages of grief that we are told we'll go through. Not once. I'm not saying no one goes through them; I'm just saying I can't fully relate to them.

What are the stages of grief?

From being widowed at the tender age of 18 to the loss of my wife to metastatic breast cancer a few years ago, I've yet to recognize myself in the proverbial 5 stages of grief that are posted all over the internet.

There are 5 commonly defined stages of grief, first coined by Dr. Elisabeth Kübler-Ross. These stages are meant to provide a framework for what many experience with losing a loved one. Traditionally, the 5 stages include:¹

1. Denial
2. Anger
3. Bargaining
4. Depression
5. Acceptance

After my wife passed, I searched the web—page after page—for something that could give me a sense that what I went through was familiar to other people. Instead, I saw the 5 stages of grief quoted as if they were scripture.

Each of us processes grief differently

Actually, the 5 stages of grief are only a theory and are not a resolute approach. The keyword is theory. It's not based on any sort of science. Now, I'm sure it gives a lot of people tremendous comfort, and I'm certainly not the one who wants to take that away from them. Each of us processes grief differently. Bless us all.

Finding comfort in acceptance

As a cancer caregiver for several family members through the years, I've learned to submit to loss, and I've found great comfort in acceptance. Please don't ask me how, but already, it's helping me to face yet another friend who recently received a terminal diagnosis. That will be 6 in the past 2 years alone. With numbers like that, acceptance seems to be the most natural response, which is the final stage in the 5 stages of grief.

Grief is personal

Through the years, I've been called everything from brave to cold. And I suppose some people could think me uncaring because my wife's wake was a party where I drank and laughed. It seems wrong to judge someone because they don't grieve the way we think they should.

Grief is a personal, intimate thing that should not be expected to follow specific, arbitrary rules. Those who love us know that we're shattered inside beneath our laughter. They know that we privately fall apart when the porch light goes off, and the door is locked. And really, no one else's opinion matters very much.

I've said it before: I hate cancer

At 71, I fully expect to go through many more losses, and I'm already preparing myself. The trouble is, it's easy for me to accept the inevitable passing of people in my age group from natural causes. That's just life. It's the bargain we strike up when we're born.

But watching people, especially younger people, pass away due to cancer really chaps my backside. I've said it before: I hate cancer, and I'm not ashamed to say it again and again. But that anger isn't one of the list items. It's a different kind of anger that I can turn into action and advocacy. It's the kind of anger that softens me when someone tells me they've been diagnosed. It spurs me to lend my hand to help them in any way they need.