On Grief and Finding Compassion

It is a very strange thing that happens with death because the body is very wise. It does not let the grief all at once.

Understanding Grief

by Malcolm Stern

About five and a half years ago, my daughter took her own life. That is one of the worst things that could happen to a human being.

I have also come to see that some hidden blessings come with that process. This book has been inspired by Melissa’s death and my journey through that process.

Melissa was 33. Married the year before, she went through a serious mental breakdown. She went through a really high period for about six months, then lapsed to a crashing low for about six weeks and then, apparently toppled off a bridge.

When I heard about it, I was on day four of a five-day residential group that I had been running for a year.

So, I heard about it. The group came back in the afternoon, and – luckily, I had a psychotherapist in the group who took over the running of the group – and very wisely created a Grief Circle. He called anyone who is lost a parent – to step in. Anyone who is lost a friend – step in. And anyone who is lost a child – and I was the only person in that space. I got to talk about it, and I got to feel it straight away.

I finished the group. It was another day, and then I went back to be with my kids, who are her half-brother and half-sister. And my ex-wife, who was her stepmother.

It is a very strange thing that happens with death because the body is very wise. It does not let the grief all at once. I thought there was something wrong with me that I was not feeling that place of extraordinary grief, that you’ve lost one of the people closest to you in the world. Someone who has your flesh and blood – and you don’t feel that, you know, ‘am I a psychopath that I don’t have any feelings?’ or ‘am I some weirdo?’ but actually, it’s a very gradual process.

A friend of mine sent me to her therapist – I tried to do therapy, it was a waste of time, I was just in my head – and it took me five months to really get into my grief. And the way it happened was this. I was so angry at Melissa’s mother, and I was holding her in hatred. She refused to allow me to speak at the funeral. She said, “you speak everywhere, you don’t have to speak at the funeral…” She then took center stage.

She asked that my ex-wife does not come. I said, “If Amanda doesn’t come, I’m not coming either – and you explain why Melissa’s father’s not at the funeral,” and she eventually agreed that she could sit – not in the front row, where the ceremony was taking place.

Family dramas. And I’m thinking: I’m going to look after my ex-wife – she’s a really good woman – and I’m going to look after my kids, so unless they’re involved, in whatever way, I’m not playing.

So, all that stuff went on, and I was really, really angry and holding the anger. And Melissa’s mother had said there is was nothing wrong with Melissa; she was just exhausted at the time. I knew that she had gone through a serious mental breakdown, serious mental health issues. So, I held her in this disrespect.

Five months after Melissa died, there was a Playback Theatre celebration of Melissa’s life – she had been part of that organization. Playback Theatre plays out someone’s stuff. They playback someone’s story and this was all about Melissa. Melissa’s mother unexpectedly turned up. So, she started ranting at me and ranging at me, and the kids were there, her son and my son, and they held space and said, “You don’t do this.” The kids said that to their parents. And I collapsed into Sue’s arms, who I had been holding with so much hatred, and sobbed. And that was the moment that I recognized that my absolute disdain of her had stopped my grieving process – and from that moment on, I was able to start to feel my grief.

I started speaking about it everywhere I could. Now I did not know what would happen when I started speaking about it – I could burst into tears.

Then I put myself through a whole process. I went to the Samaritans, who run a support group for people who have been bereaved by suicide. That was amazing because I got to hear other people’s stories and recognize some of the things that happened to me with Melissa.

When Melissa was manic, I did not like her very much, and I felt such a sense of shame that I hadn’t liked my own daughter. I’d always loved her, but at that time, I didn’t like her.

Then one of the women in the group whose son had died talked about how he was obnoxious in the last few months. Actually, that gave me such a sense of relief. I started to then go through a whole journey where I allowed Melissa’s death to educate me.

I feel I’ve been blessed in the process, as well as bereaved in a way that no one would want, no one would ask for.

I think I’m out on the other side. I’ll grieve for Melissa all my life. You don’t have a loss like that where you don’t grieve.

I didn’t choose to do this. The universe presented me with opportunities. Bridget Bowen from Compassionate Mental Health phoned me up and said, “I’m running a compassionate mental health conference, and I’d like you to facilitate it.” She didn’t know about Melissa.

So, I facilitated this conference, and I thought I was going there to teach people. I learned so much about what people had gone through. So, everything came to me.

And then you start to see who your real friends are because some people can’t be with you. One men’s group I was in at the time, and there were a couple of men in the group who I knew couldn’t handle my grief. It wasn’t that I needed to talk about it all the time, I needed to be with whatever was going on for me, and I knew there were a couple of guys that couldn’t handle it.

And then, I started doing some lectures, and all of them featured Melissa. I needed to talk about her. I realized that the biggest violence that had been done to me was at the funeral.

I set up a ceremony myself, which my friend David Confino facilitated, for over a hundred people. I was able to speak, my kids were able to speak, my son-in-law was able to speak, we were all able to have our say about what Melissa’s death meant to us.

When my father died – it was the 28th of December 2011. He was 91 years old. I was with him for the last 45 minutes of his life. I sat with him, and – my mother and sister were in the room – and I sat with him, and I had my hand on his heart. I had my hand on his heart as it stopped beating. And there was such a powerful connection with his death. I felt privileged to be in the room with him. I felt privileged to be in that space. My father was a lovely man.

The Dalai Lama said, “My religion is kindness.” On that basis, my father was one of the most religious men I’ve ever met. He was a very kind man. And I knew that my father didn’t want to die on his own. I knew that from the dialogues we’d had.

Melissa’s death humbled me. And in the process of humbling, it leads me to then seek more deeply to the real meaning of life.

You will also read The Journey of Grief & Loss

About the Author

Malcolm Stern has worked as a group and individual psychotherapist for nearly 30 years. He is co-founder and co-director of Alternatives at St James’s Church, London’s most important spiritual events platform, since 1982. Stern also teaches and runs groups internationally. His first book Falling in Love, Staying in Love, was published in 2004. Malcolm also co-presented with Vanessa Lloyd Platt, the Channel 4 series on relationships Made for Each Other in 2003 and 2004. https://malcolmstern.com