My little niece Maddie is 26 months old. She's in a warp-speed learning curve
that sometimes ingests language through her unique filter and spits it out as
only she can. Her rendition of Crinkle, Crinkle, Little Star, accompanied by
outstretched arms to help her audience see just how high above said star
resides, is as heart and soul warming as the human condition can withstand.
This began a few months ago, and sadly has already been eclipsed by the correct,
but less delicious pronunciation, Twinkle, Twinkle. Even though Maddie's verbal
skills have upgraded, I don't think I'll ever be able to hear those words or
that melody without transposing them to Crinkle, Crinkle. Maddie has moved
onward and upward in her toddler paced progression that will surely wind up at
Harvard, Stanford or Yale - but who's biased?
I know that most people have similar tales of their children's early language
delights. I mentioned this to Esther at the desk next to mine, and she went on
an instant reverie. She recalled the day, nearly 11 years ago, when her daughter
Carina was 4 and said the word "breakfast" properly, for the first time -
instead of "brekkus." Even as she told me, Esther remembered her own sadness at
the ending of that unique verbal interpretation of the morning meal.
With all the sweetness and humor attached to this topic, there's also a more
serious side; indeed a "grief" side. As our children grow and change, we
automatically miss the way they were. We hark back fondly to their Crinkle
Crinkle and Brekkus days. We miss what had become familiar, and we sometimes
resist changes - theirs and ours. It's only natural, but not necessarily good.
On a larger scale, as we grow older, we also look back at our lives and earlier
times. Sometimes our reverse-vision is rose colored and we re-invent a past that
sounds more perfect than it really was. That too is natural, even though not
always accurate and therefore not helpful.
Reality dictates that we cannot lock ourselves, our loved ones, or anyone else
into a permanent, unchanging existence. The only constant in life is change.
But, the most difficult thing for people to deal with is change. The brain is
dedicated to "stasis" and resists change at all costs. None of this is new. A
quick google finds this quote from Marcus Aureleus (121-180) Roman emperor
(161-180):
Observe constantly that all things take place by change, and accustom thyself to
consider that the nature of the Universe loves nothing so much as to change the
things which are, and to make new things like them.
When anything familiar changes, as it must and will, we are left to deal with
the feelings created by the change. Grief is created by the change or end in
anything familiar. That's a definition we use to help people understand the
often confusing range of emotions attached to so many different life events.
Compounding the fact that change itself creates emotions is the unfortunate
reality that we are not very skilled at dealing with those natural emotions
caused by the loss or end of familiar things. Whether it is in response to our
children's growth and movement in their own lives, or more major, life altering
losses, we must acquire effective skills for dealing with the mixture of
emotions generated by those ongoing events.
The emotional phenomenon attached to change is not limited to family reveries
and sad events. Our world is changing too, at what sometimes seems to be an
impossibly fast pace. If we can agree that change is difficult to accommodate,
then we can see why and how differences of opinion on matters of political and
social concern can become sources of conflict between people and peoples.
We take no side in any debates, other than to suggest that folks follow the
"heart line" instead of getting caught up in the "story line." As an example,
many people, hearing the sad tale of the ending of a Crinkle, Crinkle or Brekkus
era, respond intellectually by saying, "Those things must end and children must
move on." We'd offer a more emotionally based reaction, "Ah, how sad for you to
see the end of that chapter," and allow the parents the feelings they are
having.
There's a world of difference when we allow and acknowledge the emotions
attached to events rather than get caught up in the intellectual stories that
created the emotions. As we miss our children's sweet mis-speaks, we also miss
times that seemed sweeter. If we talk about things that way, we can move closer
to each other, and the sense of connection that most of us long for.
By Russell Friedman
John W. James and Russell Friedman are co-founders of The Grief Recovery Institute Educational Foundation, and co-authors of The Grief Recovery Handbook and When Children Grieve, both from HarperCollins. The Institute and thousands of affiliates throughout the United States and Canada offer a variety of programs for grievers. Additional information is available by calling 888-773-2683 or on the web at www.grief.net. To view previous media related articles please go to www.grief.net/Media/MediaIndex.html. Eric Cline is Director of Canadian Operations.