The myth of closure
22/01/19 05:25
Throughout my career, I have put a lot of energy into funerals. I have honed my skills of visiting with grieving people. I have read books and given a lot of thought to the process. I still attend a lot of funerals at which colleagues officiate. Talking with other pastors, I’m pretty sure that i attend a lot more funerals than most of my colleagues. It isn’t some kind of morbid fascination with death. I don’t gain pleasure out of the loss of others. I do have a genuine attraction to serve those who are grieving, however.
I’ve been told that funerals at which I officiate bring comfort to people. I hope that this is the case. A few years ago I wrote a book length manuscript on the funeral process that I never refined to the stage of being ready to publish, but the exercise was helpful nonetheless. It got me to thinking freshly about the process of walking through grief with families and the role of the ceremony in the long process of healing.
Because of my work with he LOSS (Local Outreach to Survivors of Suicide) team, I am i contact with many people who have experienced sudden and traumatic loss and who are learning to live with the social stigma that comes with mental illness and suicide loss. On occasion I facilitate meetings of a suicide loss support group and listen to the stories of those who have walked this perilous pathway not because of their own choosing, but because of the circumstances that life had handed them.
And because I officiate at and attend a lot of funerals, I hear a lot of what people say about grief, loss, and funerals. I know that there are some pious pronouncements that get made by people trying to ease the grief of family and friends that are not helpful. I know that sometimes people say things that increase the hurt, even though they do not intend to do so. I know that there are some myths about the process of grief that can get in the way of healing. One of those myths is that you have to find the right thing to say to a grieving person. I frequently find myself in a situation where there are no words to convey the sadness that exists. I also know that when people are in the depths of grief, their memory functions in a different way. I often say things to people in the midst of their grief that they will not ever remember. The grief isn’t focused on my or my words and it should not be. Presence is more important than words when someone is grieving. If you visit a grieving friend, you don’t need to know what to say. “I’m sorry,” is enough. Acknowledging the loss and the sadness is sufficient. You don’t have to offer words of wisdom. You don’t need to speed up the process of healing. You don’t need to make everything better. Just be present.
Another myth is the societal myth of closure. I hear people talking about closure all the time. Some say that viewing the body helps to bring closure. Some say that the burial ceremony brings closure. Some say that time brings closure.
I say that there are wounds that never heal.
I say that grieving people aren’t seeking closure. They don’t want to be over the person they have lost. They don’t want the relationship to end.
I often tell people just the opposite. I tell them that the death of their loved one is not something that you can get over. It is something that you get through.
The myth of closure has brought about some very strange notions of justice. In the case of accidental death we have turned to litigation to provide recompense. Judges and juries try to offer some relief for wrongful death by naming and punishing the person at fault - or at least that person’s insurance company. The problem is that grief and loss cannot be measured in dollars and cents. There is no amount of money that will bring healing. There is no judgment that will bring an end to suffering. Is the loss of a loved one worth $100? No. Is it worth $1 million? No. There is no amount of money that is the right number to compensate for the loss of a person. Often the numbers appear to be random precisely because we cannot assess the value of loss. Those who receive large financial settlements continue to suffer. Money does not ease suffering. But society has imposed an expectation that closure will occur. The court will sometimes formally state that the settlement is to bring closure.
In a similar way proponents of the death penalty sometimes will claim that the death of a murderer will bring closure to the family of the victim. I don’t know what emotions those who have lost a loved one to murder experience. I know that every case is different. I know that the sense of injustice is deep. But I don’t know that their suffering is eased by the death of another person. I know a family whose son was brutally murdered over 25 years ago. They have been attentive as the murder case has worked its way through the courts, attending every court hearing and every appeal in person. They have focused their energies on the convicted killer as he waits on death row. They have been reminded of the circumstances of the death of their son over and over again. They have seen the pictures presented in the courtroom over and over again. They have read the transcripts of investigators over and over again. I wonder what will change for them when, as appears to be the case, the state will finally execute the murderer. Will they feel vindicated? Will they feel that it is over? Will they feel that the time and energy invested in the last 25 and more years has been valuable? I doubt that they will feel that it is over. I doubt that they will feel closure.
Some wounds are too deep for closure. Some pain remains forever. It is true that memories shift and the pain changes its role in your life. But I think we do not help those who grieve by promising them that closure will come.
I’ve stopped using that word with those who grieve. I offer a funeral as one step in a lifelong process. It may be an important step, but it is definitely not the final one.
I’ve been told that funerals at which I officiate bring comfort to people. I hope that this is the case. A few years ago I wrote a book length manuscript on the funeral process that I never refined to the stage of being ready to publish, but the exercise was helpful nonetheless. It got me to thinking freshly about the process of walking through grief with families and the role of the ceremony in the long process of healing.
Because of my work with he LOSS (Local Outreach to Survivors of Suicide) team, I am i contact with many people who have experienced sudden and traumatic loss and who are learning to live with the social stigma that comes with mental illness and suicide loss. On occasion I facilitate meetings of a suicide loss support group and listen to the stories of those who have walked this perilous pathway not because of their own choosing, but because of the circumstances that life had handed them.
And because I officiate at and attend a lot of funerals, I hear a lot of what people say about grief, loss, and funerals. I know that there are some pious pronouncements that get made by people trying to ease the grief of family and friends that are not helpful. I know that sometimes people say things that increase the hurt, even though they do not intend to do so. I know that there are some myths about the process of grief that can get in the way of healing. One of those myths is that you have to find the right thing to say to a grieving person. I frequently find myself in a situation where there are no words to convey the sadness that exists. I also know that when people are in the depths of grief, their memory functions in a different way. I often say things to people in the midst of their grief that they will not ever remember. The grief isn’t focused on my or my words and it should not be. Presence is more important than words when someone is grieving. If you visit a grieving friend, you don’t need to know what to say. “I’m sorry,” is enough. Acknowledging the loss and the sadness is sufficient. You don’t have to offer words of wisdom. You don’t need to speed up the process of healing. You don’t need to make everything better. Just be present.
Another myth is the societal myth of closure. I hear people talking about closure all the time. Some say that viewing the body helps to bring closure. Some say that the burial ceremony brings closure. Some say that time brings closure.
I say that there are wounds that never heal.
I say that grieving people aren’t seeking closure. They don’t want to be over the person they have lost. They don’t want the relationship to end.
I often tell people just the opposite. I tell them that the death of their loved one is not something that you can get over. It is something that you get through.
The myth of closure has brought about some very strange notions of justice. In the case of accidental death we have turned to litigation to provide recompense. Judges and juries try to offer some relief for wrongful death by naming and punishing the person at fault - or at least that person’s insurance company. The problem is that grief and loss cannot be measured in dollars and cents. There is no amount of money that will bring healing. There is no judgment that will bring an end to suffering. Is the loss of a loved one worth $100? No. Is it worth $1 million? No. There is no amount of money that is the right number to compensate for the loss of a person. Often the numbers appear to be random precisely because we cannot assess the value of loss. Those who receive large financial settlements continue to suffer. Money does not ease suffering. But society has imposed an expectation that closure will occur. The court will sometimes formally state that the settlement is to bring closure.
In a similar way proponents of the death penalty sometimes will claim that the death of a murderer will bring closure to the family of the victim. I don’t know what emotions those who have lost a loved one to murder experience. I know that every case is different. I know that the sense of injustice is deep. But I don’t know that their suffering is eased by the death of another person. I know a family whose son was brutally murdered over 25 years ago. They have been attentive as the murder case has worked its way through the courts, attending every court hearing and every appeal in person. They have focused their energies on the convicted killer as he waits on death row. They have been reminded of the circumstances of the death of their son over and over again. They have seen the pictures presented in the courtroom over and over again. They have read the transcripts of investigators over and over again. I wonder what will change for them when, as appears to be the case, the state will finally execute the murderer. Will they feel vindicated? Will they feel that it is over? Will they feel that the time and energy invested in the last 25 and more years has been valuable? I doubt that they will feel that it is over. I doubt that they will feel closure.
Some wounds are too deep for closure. Some pain remains forever. It is true that memories shift and the pain changes its role in your life. But I think we do not help those who grieve by promising them that closure will come.
I’ve stopped using that word with those who grieve. I offer a funeral as one step in a lifelong process. It may be an important step, but it is definitely not the final one.