It took me fourteen years to process my father​’s death so that I could actually begin to say goodbye to him, and I did it in a dream. The dream: My father and I are on a small, old yellow bus traveling down a dusty road in a warm, sunny yet desolate place. The bus stops. I get off; my father doesn​’t. I wave as the bus drives away. In my End-of-Life Doula course, I learned that this is delayed grieving. When my sister was dying and continued to rally, I had written four different eulogies after each dramatic rush to the hospital. This is known as anticipatory grief. I was consumed by guilt and relief with each episode.

In the Doula course, we studied Kubler-Ross’ landmark book On Death and Dying, focusing on the five stages: denial, anger, bargaining, depression and acceptance. Grieving is complicated, and loss — whether it’s a person, job, money, pet, youth, marriage, fertility, the planet, you name it — is about a relationship that identifies us.

As universal as grieving is, it is also individual and each of us adapts uniquely. There is no one-size-fits-all grieving process. It is not easy to ​“put it behind me” or no ​“time to get over it.” Or to deny feelings. They are there, somewhere inside. Denial can be seemingly comfortable, but in time, the truth helps us hear around a corner, where what’s next lives. 

I have found that ritual sometimes can be helpful to bridge the gap between what was to what is now and will be next. As a Jew in mourning, I wore a kriah, a piece of black ribbon that is cut or torn, a tangible symbol of loss and grief. I wore it at the end of my parents’ funerals and wore it when I was divorced in a religious ceremony. I also find crying is useful.