In
his journals following the death of his wife (published under the title A
Grief Observed), C.S. Lewis recognized what we would call today a
third-level loss.
The first level of loss is in many cases, of course, the lost presence of the loved one who has died. But most notice a second level of loss, in which the bereaved survivor recognizes the vacant roles in their life that were once filled by the loved one: the checkbook balancer, the birthday card buyer, the fitted-sheet folder, or simply the socially-acceptable sex partner.
Beyond those primary and secondary losses, though, even for those with whom we are very close, we miss the signs of the third level of loss—often because we ourselves are what is lost. When we lose a loved one, we lose their person and presence, their roles and responsibilities, and we lose the character of the community and companions who were previously used to relating to us as “we,” not just “I.”Here's part of what Lewis writes about that experience:
An odd byproduct of my loss is that I’m
aware of being an embarrassment to everyone I meet. At work, at the club, in
the street, I see people, as they approach me, trying to make up their minds
whether they’ll ‘say something about it’ or not. I hate it if they do, and if
they don’t. Some funk it altogether. R. has been avoiding me for a week. I like
best the well brought-up young men, almost boys, who walk up to me as if I were
a dentist, turn very red, get it over, and then edge away to the bar as quickly
as they decently can. Perhaps the bereaved ought to be isolated in special
settlements like lepers.
To some I’m worse than an embarrassment. I am a death’s head. Whenever I meet a happily married pair I can feel them both thinking, ‘One or other of us must some day be as he is now.’
When we’re serving the dying and bereaved…
And remember that the dying are also bereaved, having lost so much, long before they die.
When
we’re serving the dying and bereaved, we have the opportunity to open ourselves
to them, to be authentic, transparent, and vulnerable with them. We can ask
questions to which we don’t already know the answers, and let them be
authentic, transparent, and vulnerable as well. Usually, in my limited
experience, it only takes taking the time to ask them, “What should I know?”
and let them tell us whatever they are or are not feeling in that moment.
