The grief of grandparents

An important factor in a parent’s grief is the loss of genetic inheritance to the family. This is just as true for the grandparents – our wish for our genes to be inherited doesn’t stop just with our children.

The grief of grandparents, however, often remains under-recognised. The dead child’s parents are the rightful focus for any support – indeed the grandparents may feel impelled to set their own feelings aside to look after their bereaved children.

Grandparents often see it as an important role of theirs to be a special support to their grandchildren, often deriving much satisfaction in return – all the pleasure and none of the responsibility. The loss of a grandchild can severely damage this sense of purposefulness at a time when they may be feeling redundant in other respects.

As grandparents, we’ll not only be grieving the loss of our grandchild – we’ll also be grieving just as deeply for our own child’s loss. This is one occasion, however, when we’re not going to be able to ‘make things better’ another dent to our self-esteem.

‘Survival guilt’ is another common experience. We might desperately wish we could have changed places. This challenges how worthwhile our lives are if we can go on living after our grandchild has died.

This all adds up to a recipe for depression. If we’re in this situation we should take notice of what’s happening to us and, if we’re not, we should keep an eye open for forgotten grandparents.

The anticipated death

If we have cared for someone throughout a long final illness we will have been grateful for the time to prepare for the death and to say our goodbyes. We will also, however, know about the anguish of the uncertainty about what might happen. We would have had to find a balance between normal living and behaving as though the end could come at any time. We may have prepared ourselves for the death several times: false alarms.

These situations are often the most painful for all concerned. The carer – anxious and fearful – is often also exhausted; exasperation and resentment may be barely concealed. Patience and concern may become less evident to the dying person who may feel depressed and guilty for causing so much trouble’.

Curiously, no matter how much preparation there has been, the actual death always seems to come unexpectedly.

The sudden death

Whether or not the death was expected is one of the key factors in our ability to adjust. With a sudden death we can immediately see how some of the difficulties could have been lessened if – as usually happens – there had been the opportunity for some preparation:

Before her death my sister asked to see each of her five brothers and sisters. We talked about how we had been close and trusting with each other, and we also talked about some of our long-standing fights and grudges.

I know that the hour she and I spent going over our times together was very important to me. It was one way to say goodbye. And I think it was important and healing for her as well.

J. Shapiro, quoted in Ourselves: Growing Older, 1989

Much of the grief that follows a sudden death comes from the incomplete relationship that has been left behind. The last chapter of our time together has been torn out and discarded without any opportunity for truths to be revealed, confusions to be explained and doubts to be resolved.

All of us, in our relationships, play a series of roles. Our partner can be a ‘counsellor’ at breakfast time, a ‘stubborn child’ at lunchtime and a ‘playmate’ in the evening. We can respond to them in similar ways to suit our mutual needs.

Some people unfortunately become locked in to a very limited drama which takes over their life – ‘abuser-victim’, ‘nurse-patient’, ‘young lovers’. When we allow our relationships to become ‘hardened’ in this way we become severely restricted in how we can express our needs and respond to others.

The ‘abuser’ becomes incapable of saying ‘Sometimes I feel ashamed of the way I treat you’ and the ‘patient’ finds it hard to be strong and supportive. We all know everyone has many hidden aspects to themselves, but we rarely have the privilege of having the full range of their complexity revealed to us.

It is this openness and honesty about our feelings, fears, hopes and needs that mark a strong relationship; we become ‘fully known’ to each other.

If we have had this complete knowledge of the other person we may feel their loss sharply when they die but we shall, at least, know who and what we have lost – unlike Lorraine:

David was never very demonstrative but in the last couple of years he became very wrapped up in himself: he seemed quite depressed to me. He seemed less interested in the children and began working late quite often – I still wonder if there might not have been another woman. Anyway, the Saturday before it happened we had a big row about going on holiday. I said things I shouldn’t and he eventually said – completely out of the blue – that he thought we should separate. He ignored me all day on Sunday.

Monday morning he was gone, as usual, when we got up. The police came at three o’clock to say he’d been killed in the train crash – a signal failure. I hadn’t even watched the News.

Lorraine was now left with her children and her grief. However, she was also left with a lifetime of doubts:

• Why had David been so unhappy?
• What had she failed to do?
• Did he really want to leave her?
• Had he been seeing someone else?
• Had he stopped loving her – and why?
• Did he know how much she loved him?
• How will the children remember him?

Such a situation as this brings home to us the importance of looking after living relationships so that our ‘wholeness’ is clear to each other and that we regularly check for changes. When someone close dies there should be as little ‘unfinished business’ as possible.

The effects of sudden death can be debilitating for the survivor. The bereavement is usually longer and there is more marked physical and emotional signs of distress. There is a condition called ‘unexpected loss syndrome’ where people are bewildered, socially withdrawn, feeling helpless, distrustful and angry.

The bitterest tears shed over graves are for words left unsaid and deeds left undone.

Harriet Beecher Stowe (1811–96)