What I've Learned In My 40s(so far): 3. There's No Textbook For Dealing With Grief and Loss

I turned 40 on November 2, 2017. There is an old saying that ‘life begins at 40.’ I used to think that was just something middle-aged people said to make them feel younger. Maybe that is a part of it. I do believe that the wisdom behind that saying is that you spend those first 39 years accumulating all kinds of knowledge that you then can start to put into practice when you hit the Big 4-0.

For me, as I stare down 47, I can honestly say that my 40s so far have been the most difficult and also rewarding decade of my life. I never thought I’d find a time where I’d feel more unsure, insecure, lost, and yet filled with optimism. My teens used to be the benchmark until my 40s.

I’ve learned a lot in my life. Some of it has been useful as I’ve aged. A lot has been pointless. No amount of studying prepares you for coming to grips with your own aging, your own mortality, or your own demons. No amount of preparation can soften the blow of loss and grief. My 40s have been a trial by fire. They have seen me dropped in hostile environments mentally with no survival gear and having to learn on the fly.

So what have I learned in my 40s so far? A lot.

3. I’ve learned that there is no textbook for dealing with grief and loss.

Death is inevitable. It comes for everyone. Knowing and accepting that fact doesn't change the impact of the loss of an important person in your life.

When my Aunt Christine died in 2004 after years of battling cancer I wasn’t sure how to react. She had been suffering for so long so it was a feeling of her being at peace. But I saw what it did to my Uncle Steve and to my cousins and was empathetic.

When my Nana died in 2009 I didn’t want to face it. I only visited her in the nursing home once and that was at the insistence of my Uncle Eric and Aunt Emma. I thought somehow that if I didn’t have to see her rapid decline at the end it wasn’t real.

Other friends were dealing with the losses of family members but I had been lucky kind of skating by after those 2. Eventually, it all evens out.

I mentioned my friend Matt. I had met him in 1984 when we were both 6. We grew up in the same neighborhood and were like brothers into high school. We drifted apart but came back together in 2015. We happened to bump into each other at a Stop & Shop and got to reconnect as adults. It was fun to get to reminisce whenever we’d meet but also it was different as he was married with a newborn daughter so his priorities were not the same as when we were kids.

The last time I saw him was at Stop & Shop. I had a rough workday and wanted to get in and out. Matt was walking away and didn’t see me. Rather than going and chatting with him even briefly I stuck to my plan and got in and out. I’d see him another time. Or so I thought. He died suddenly in a car accident 2 days later.

It was a shock and impossible to process. The alcoholism gene might as well have been a huge flashing neon sign over my head. Drinking became the only way I could cope with the guilt over passing on one last conversation with one of my oldest friends.

A major complication that comes with dealing with grief is actually dealing with it. It can be easier to stuff it down under an ocean of booze or other distractions. Talking to someone about it makes the pain real, it makes the loss real. It is hard to wrap my head around the fact that no matter what I do or say those I’ve lost are gone and not coming back.

When my Grampa, who was/is my hero and role model, began to rapidly decline due to Alzheimer’s in early 2019 I knew I had to be there. I couldn’t face my Nana’s decline and I still feel guilty over that. I decided that I owed it to my Grampa to be there as he faded. If he truly was the man I strove to be I needed to prove it by being there every agonizing step of his way down.

Being there to bear witness to a loved one losing every bit of who they are does not make it any easier to process when they do eventually go. That being said I have lost 6 people in my life since I turned 40 and none of their deaths or my coping with them have been the same.

Matt died suddenly in a car accident and I found out about it the next morning when his wife posted a goodbye message on social media. I was in the middle of work and could barely process it at the time.

My Grampa died slowly and I was there to bear witness to the decline. I was able to say a goodbye on his last night. I actually left work upon getting word that this might be it. In the end, I returned to finish my shift I think because I wanted to push off processing it as long as I could.

My Nina also died slowly. She faded away during lockdown at the height of Covid. We were not able to be inside with her until it was very near to the end. I don’t know what I had thought the end would look like for Nina but I certainly didn’t see it as me having to be dressed essentially in hazmat gear with a sheet of plexiglass between us in the lobby of a retirement home. The worst part for me about that was the fact that I had worked at that retirement home until a few weeks before Covid hit. If I had been patient and not rash in my decision I could have been there with my Nina during lockdown giving her at least some comfort in a terrible situation.

My old friend Pete died in secret. At least that was how it felt. To me, his illness seemed to come out of nowhere. That mainly came down to the fact that we were not in touch as much as we used to be. I had known him since high school, I even attended my first-ever concert with him. He was a kind soul which made it hurt more knowing that I didn’t get a final conversation with him.

Brenda wasn’t my aunt by blood, but she had been family since before I was born. She was there for so many fun memories on my Nana’s side of the family. One of my most cherished memories, especially now, is the fact that I got to spend so much time with her when I worked at a retirement home where she was a resident. Yes, it was the same one where my Nina also became a resident. Brenda didn’t have family on Cape Cod. When she was nearing the end I went to see her in ICU. My Uncle Eric and Aunt Emma who were the closest to her but had moved back to Las Vegas were so grateful that I was able to be there at the end.

My Uncle Eric was like a father to me. Growing up with a father who couldn’t care less about being anything more than a background player in my life it was nice to have actual male role models. Uncle Eric knew my feelings and although I am sure he wished it wasn’t the case he was understanding and gracious. The fact that I found out about his death the day after is a hurt that might never subside. He got sick and went downhill fast. The fact is though that whether sick or not if I saw him as a father figure I should have made more of an effort to be in touch more often. His death is a trauma that I haven’t come close to processing.

These deaths one after another have fight or flight as my default response when potential issues come up. I’m not saying PTSD as I don’t know exactly what constitutes that. The case with my Uncle Bob has me wondering though. He suffered a series of major strokes over this past summer. These were so bad that I went to visit him in the ICU with the idea that this was likely the last time I’d see him. He is my role model when it comes to being an uncle to my nieces and nephews. By some sort of miracle, he is making a slow recovery in rehab as I write this.

However, my brain can’t shake the initial trauma of his likely death. I have spent the last few months trying to course correct. I feel like I am stuck in this loop. My way of coping with the deaths of loved ones was first to drink to excess. Then once I gave up alcohol it was to eat whatever I wanted to as food temporarily eased the pain. That’s where I am now. I had lost 20 pounds over the spring and since my Uncle Bob’s health scare, I’ve put it all back on.

It took me a while to realize that I was living and reacting as though my uncle had died even when he hadn’t. That is a lingering issue mentally I have to deal with that stems from so many deaths in rapid succession.

Remember however you cope with the loss of someone close to you is your business. There is no textbook. There is no timetable. Grief doesn't have a shelf life. Don't ever feel like you've grieved too long, or not long enough. You just do the best you can to go day by day.

Next: Part 4 - Nothing Is Guaranteed and Sometimes Taking A Step Back Can Move You Forward

Previous: Part 2 - Letting Go Of Toxic People, Even Those Close To You