The Definition of Grief

I cannot recall when I first encountered the word ‘grief’. Most likely, it was in a book I read as a child or as a vocabulary word in elementary school; a simple grouping of letters that my naïve eyes passed over without much thought before moving onto another. But as a young adult thrust into a battle with the cruel realities of life, I find it in the forefront of my mind.

I’ve always found it humorous that words are defined with more words. It’s quite the circuitous path if you think about it. While this methodology is sufficient for creating a universal meaning for different groupings of letters, I believe there are some words that inherently do not possess the capability to be understood this way. Grief is one of them.

I don’t believe there is a single way in which humans experience grief. It is something that originates and behaves differently within each of us; a result of the complex intersection of emotions, thoughts, and memories that make its experience unique to each that carry its burden. Our grief may share similarities with another’s, but its true definition cannot be summed up into a short phrase and applied universally.

Maybe I ponder such things too frequently since my mother’s passing, but I’ve come to believe there actually is something about the word that is ubiquitous for all. There is a shared element tucked away in the depths of any form that grief may take – a privilege to have known love in its most complete form. Without an origin of something as powerful as love, grief would not be the profound and complicated human experience it is. It is the resulting outcome of life’s ability to forcefully uproot love, despite all opposition one may counter with.

The grateful disposition I have towards this privilege is often overwhelmed by the demanding nature written in my grief’s definition. I imagine it as a small glittering figure struggling to be seen as it gets pulled into the whirling shades of smokey grey that comprise my grief. It has no control over its path or when it makes an appearance, but its fleeting presence provides a far-reaching sense of peace comparable to no other.

With good intention, this underlying element of grief is something we attempt to uncover for others following their loss. However, for me, I’ve found these words escape well-intentioned lips only to provoke feelings of guilt that my grief should be different than it is; that my gratitude for my parents and the love they showed me should always be in control of my grief. They make me feel as if my grief should meet a different definition.

My grief is messy. It is the instinctual reach for my phone to call my mom after a day of studying only to realize I can’t. It is the jealousy I feel when a friend tells me about their weekend trip back home to see their family. It is the sense of loneliness I feel when there are no shoes by the door in my childhood home. It is the smile on my face when I hear the songs my parents used to sing in the car with me and my sister. It is the comfort I find in knowing I will one day be able to make a difference for someone else’s parent just as my parent’s doctors did for them.

But this is my definition of grief. Every person who experiences loss has their own. It is each of ours to experience without comparison or guilt for the way it chooses to define itself. There is no true definition, and we would be wrong to mold grief into one. The enigmatic emotions I am filled with and the gratitude I have cannot be neatly summed up. And that is okay.

Micaylen Wolf, MS2
AAWEP Section Member