Different Boat, Same Storm

Last week, I went to see the film “The Same Storm,” which was made during the pandemic, using Zoom as the actors filmed from their own homes. It revolves around the need for connection during the isolation and uncertainty in the spring and summer of 2020. The quote from a poem written by Damien Barr about the pandemic. It struck a chord when I read how it relates to grief.

The circumstances around a person’s death vary: some are sudden and unexpected, while others come after a protracted illness. In my experience, they’re both excruciatingly painful. Sudden death is shocking because there is no expectation that your loved one is gone. No goodbyes, I love you, or resolved conflicts, just an emptiness that cannot be filled. A prolonged or expected death is just as painful. Watching the one you love slip slowly from this world to the next, often in pain, is just as hard. Although you do not want to see them suffer, you would give anything for one more minute to be with that healthy, whole person you love.

There is no one right way to travel. Each of us travels in a different boat on our grief journey. Some people’s boats are filled with guilt and regrets. Others are filled with anger that may stem from a strained relationship that can’t be resolved with the person who has died. Some people find companions to accompany them in their boats. Often, because we all grieve so differently, we travel alone.

However, the storm of grief is the same, and we often look for others on the choppy sea who understand the storm. For me, I turn to friends who have had parents or spouses die. I want the reassurance that the sea won’t always be choppy and the storm will calm, even for a little while. I find companionship in books about grief. I need to hear other people’s stories when I feel most alone and need the comfort of fellow travelers.   They become my armada as I hook my boat to theirs, gaining strength when the waves are rough. Podcasts have been a great source of power as I listen to people share their experiences with death and grief, which often leads me to new resources.

Grief is one of the loneliest voyages I’ve been on because, in the end, you have to find your way through this life-long passage. However, riding the storm with those who have traveled this spiraling sea helps me navigate this human experience.