Grief

Animal wakes and funerals

11 September 2012
Charles
2 Comments
Categories: Animals, Attitudes to dead bodies, Grief

Posted by Vale

When Dorothy the chimp died at the sanctuary in the Cameroons, other members of her troop looked on as she was buried, comforting each other with touches and caresses.

Animals don’t just grieve; new studies suggest  that they might mark a passing too. Mark Bekoff of Colorado University has written that:

I once happened upon what seemed to be a magpie funeral service. A magpie had been hit by a car. Four of his flock mates stood around him silently and pecked gently at his body. One, then another, flew off and brought back pine needles and twigs and laid them by his body. They all stood vigil for a time, nodded their heads, and flew off. I also watched a red fox bury her mate after a cougar had killed him. She gently laid dirt and twigs over his body, stopped, looked to make sure he was all covered, patted down the dirt and twigs with her forepaws, stood silently for a moment, then trotted off, tail down and ears laid back against her head.

In another study reported on the BBC Nature website, when Western Scrub Jays:

‘spied a dead bird, they started making alarm calls, warning others long distances away.

The jays then gathered around the dead body, forming large cacophonous aggregations. The calls they made, known as “zeeps”, “scolds” and “zeep-scolds”, encouraged new jays to attend to the dead.

The jays also stopped foraging for food, a change in behaviour that lasted for over a day…

The results suggest that “without witnessing the struggle and manner of death”, the researchers write, the jays see the presence of a dead bird as information to be publicly shared, just as they do the presence of a predator.’

The reason suggested for the birds’ behaviour is that by broadcasting and marking the death, the flock is alerted to danger. Sounds fair, but the fasting as well?

The more you search the more you find. It isn’t safe or sensible for us to imagine that on this multitudinous planet we are alone in our feelings of grief or gladness, or in what seems to be a common need to mark a passing.

Grief in animals

11 September 2012
Charles
17 Comments
Categories: Animals, Grief

Posted by Vale

The photo shows a swallow grieving for its mate who had been killed in collision with a car. In a series of shots (see them here) we see him first try to feed his mate and then, when he realises that she is dead, seems to cry out. But how can an animal ‘realise’ that another bird has died? can it know itself; can it comprehend death?

Rooting around I came across this on a site called Animalwise. It’s a description of a dolphin and a calf that has died:

‘…it was quite clear that the mother was mourning. She seemed to be unable to accept the death, and was behaving as if there was any hope of rescuing her calf. She lifted the little corpse above the surface, in an apparent late attempt to let the calf breath. She also pushed the calf underwater, perhaps hoping that the baby could dive again. These behaviours were repeated over and over again, and sometimes frantically, during two days of observation.

The mother did never separate from her calf. From the boat, researchers and volunteers could hear heartbreaking cries while she touched her offspring with the rostrum and pectoral fins. Witnessing such desperate behaviour was a shocking experience for those on board the research boat.’

In truth there is a huge amount of evidence that animals know death and grieve when it touches them. It’s not just the obvious ‘intelligent’ animals – the elephants, the dolphins or the primates – either. Conrad Lorenz, the naturalist, noted that:

“A greylag goose that has lost its partner shows all the symptoms that [developmental psychologist] John Bowlby has described in young human children in his famous book Infant Grief … the eyes sink deep into their sockets, and the individual has an overall drooping experience, literally letting the head hang …”

A fascinating and very moving article in Psychology Today asks – with descriptions of grief amongst elephants and seals, magpies, llamas and wolves – not whether animals grieve, but why they should. I know it’s unscientific of me, but I find the question shocking. It springs, I suppose, from the view of animal behaviour that assumes that every action must have an evolutionary (selfish?) purpose.

I was relieved and comforted when in the end no explanation was offered, only the reflection that for all us animals:

“grief is the price of commitment, that wellspring of both happiness and sorrow.”

Worth reading the whole article.

Mother and child

18 August 2012
Charles
No comments
Categories: Grief

By Richard Rawlinson

Whether or not we think death is the end, news of the death of the mother of an unfound victim of the Moors Murders has brought home how natural it is to seek solace in the proximity of the departed. Winnie Johnson, who died of cancer aged 77, had hoped for 50 years that child killers, Ian Brady and Myra Hindley, would reveal the spot on Yorkshire’s Saddleworth Moor where they buried her 12-year-old son, Keith Bennett, after torturing him to death. With Hindley now dead, it was left to Brady to give Winnie the peace of mind of laying her son to rest properly, to be able to sit by his grave and gain a degree of comfort in knowing. It was not to be.

More here.

I hated my brother. When he died, all I felt was happiness…

4 August 2012
Charles
2 Comments
Categories: Attitudes to death, bereavement, Children, Etiquette, Grief

Liz Hodgkinson writing in The Daily Mail 31 July 2012

The news came as a shock, yes, but it didn’t provoke tears, or even any sense of grief. I’d just heard from my niece that my brother Richard had died of a heart attack, aged 62, following an apparently minor operation. And all I felt was a surge of happiness and relief.

That day, five years ago, a long, dark shadow that had blighted my existence was lifted. You see, I hated my brother and he hated me to the point of pathology. So much so that we hadn’t even seen or spoken to each other for 20 years.

I imagine this sentiment will jar with many because it goes against everything we are  supposed to feel for our siblings. After all, it is meant to be the strongest and longest bond we will experience in life.

To admit such animosity is to break one of our strongest social taboos — but the feeling is far from rare, with psychologists estimating that in as many as a third of all families there is bitter hatred and rivalry between siblings.

Writer Margaret Drabble’s long estrangement from her novelist sister, Booker Prize-winner A.S  Byatt, is a case in point.

Their feud, which started at birth, is, according to Drabble, completely unresolvable, and has provoked much interest.

Ever since Cain slew Abel, stories and myths abound of siblings turning against each other.

But what does it actually feel like to hate a sibling? Well, it’s something that is always there, lying dissonant and dormant in the background. You dread the slightest contact, whether by letter, email or phone call.

In my case, before my brother stopped speaking to me altogether, he would preface any communication by saying: ‘You’re supposed to be so clever.’

Harmless at first glance, perhaps, but words designed to fill me with rage. And they achieved their goal, unerringly.

When there is hatred at this level, you can’t even pretend that person doesn’t exist, as it burns a deep and lasting hole in your psyche.

The animosity between my brother and me stems from childhood. Apparently my mother had only wanted one child, so when she became pregnant with my brother while she was still breastfeeding me, she was distraught.

He was born 18 months after me, following a very difficult birth which nearly killed our mother. Right from the start, I was the firm favourite of both parents and the question: ‘Why can’t you be more like your sister?’ was often asked.

Such favouritism, I believe, is the crux of it. American psychologist Jeanne Safer’s latest book, Cain’s Legacy, explores this very phenomenon.

Writing from her own experience of being estranged from her brother since birth, she believes it is favouritism that causes such bitter sibling rivalry. ‘When this happens, it sets you up for a lifetime of strife,’ she says.

‘The bond can never quite be severed, yet the bitter hatred gets ever worse. Because it happens before you can speak, it goes far deeper than anybody ever realises and can never be healed.’

Read the whole article here

Stat of the day

12 July 2012
Charles
7 Comments
Categories: Grief

A study in Finland (1996) found that men are 30% more likely to die in the first six months after the death of their partner, and 20% more likely to die thereafter. 

Women, on the other hand, are 20% more likely to die in the first six months after the death of their partner, falling to under 10% thereafter.

What this tells us I have no idea. 

What Is Left

3 July 2012
Charles
1 Comment
Categories: Art and death, Grief

What is Left is a participatory portraiture project being made by Leeds-based artist Ellie Harrison, photographer Roshana Rubin Mayhew and 50 members of the public.

Working with individuals, community groups and bereavement charities, Ellie and Roshana wil generate 50 portraits with corresponding texts in collaboration with participants.

Photographed in their own homes with objects they have inherited from lost loved ones, the project will explore the value we invest in these, both monetary and emotional and the ways in which these objects mediate our relationships with the dead through memory.

PREVIEW EVENT : Leeds Gallery, Munro House, 4th July, 7pm

Ellie and Roshana have been working with participants since April and have created 11 portraits and texts ready to be shared with the public, as well as a group of public, artists, clinicians, bereavement charities and interest groups.

This event is one of two showings in Leeds and Manchester aimed at creating an informal space to view the outcomes of the project so far, feedback thoughts and find out more about the future of What is Left and The Grief Series.

It is part of the Grief Series, a seven-part project by Ellie Harrison. A lot of GFG-ers would give anything to get to Leeds for this.

Find out more here. Leeds Gallery here. 

Doctors need to grieve, too

20 June 2012
Charles
5 Comments
Categories: Attitudes to death, Grief, medical interventions in dying

There’s an interesting piece in the New York Times here about the emotional difficulties doctors experience when working with people who are going to die. People often characterise doctors as cold and uncaring when, in fact, they may simply not be coping:

We found that oncologists struggled to manage their feelings of grief with the detachment they felt was necessary to do their job. More than half of our participants reported feelings of failure, self-doubt, sadness and powerlessness as part of their grief experience, and a third talked about feelings of guilt, loss of sleep and crying.

Our study indicated that grief in the medical context is considered shameful and unprofessional. Even though participants wrestled with feelings of grief, they hid them from others because showing emotion was considered a sign of weakness. In fact, many remarked that our interview was the first time they had been asked these questions or spoken about these emotions at all.

Even more distressing, half our participants reported that their discomfort with their grief over patient loss could affect their treatment decisions with subsequent patients — leading them, for instance, to provide more aggressive chemotherapy, to put a patient in a clinical trial, or to recommend further surgery when palliative care might be a better option. 

Unease with losing patients also affected the doctors’ ability to communicate about end-of-life issues with patients and their families. Half of our participants said they distanced themselves and withdrew from patients as the patients got closer to dying. This meant fewer visits in the hospital, fewer bedside visits and less overall effort directed toward the dying patient.

Oncologists are not trained to deal with their own grief, and they need to be. In addition to providing such training, we need to normalize death and grief as a natural part of life, especially in medical settings.

To improve the quality of end-of-life care for patients and their families, we also need to improve the quality of life of their physicians, by making space for them to grieve like everyone else.

It happens…

18 June 2012
Charles
1 Comment
Categories: Grief

Extracted from the Otago Daily Times. New Zealand:

A man who disrupted a Balclutha funeral, yelling vulgarities and causing distress and upset, has been remanded in custody.

Stephen John Hurring (59), of Balclutha, pleaded guilty to disorderly behaviour likely to cause violence at the Balclutha Memorial Hall.

Prosecutor Acting Sergeant Mike Gasson said about 700 mourners were at the funeral.

An intoxicated Hurring was standing in the hall’s entrance foyer about 2.10pm.

During proceedings, he became verbally abusive towards the dead person, yelling vulgarities and causing distress to mourners, including family.

Asked to leave, Hurring refused and caused a commotion, disrupting the funeral.

When restrained by an off-duty constable, Hurring lashed out.

Public defender Jo Turner said Hurring wished to apologise for his behaviour. The person who had died had been a close friend.

Source

Death of a best friend

4 June 2012
Charles
4 Comments
Categories: Grief, pet cemeteries; pet and owner burial, Pet funerals

posted by Quokkagirl

I received a moving email the other day from a friend telling me that Archie, her beloved and faithful old Westie had finally lost his battle with cancer.

The last time I saw Archie was a couple of months ago – looking older but still the feisty little man he had always been – busily galloping around the smallholding all day, dealing with the ducks and hens, making sure his estate was all in order, then finally flopping down curled up by the Aga at night – so long as he was touching his mistress’s feet somehow.

My friend is pragmatic by nature and used to dealing with the death of animals – she rears all sorts, is devoted to them, never eats any of them and suffers losses frequently with courage and a philosphical approach.

However, this email was full of exactly the same words, the same emotions and the same pain that would be present when telling of the death of a beloved human.

And of course, those of us who have said goodbye to pets know what it’s like. They are not ‘just a dog, cat, rabbit, ferret or rat’. My brother lost his faithful old springer, Fern, some three years ago and still can’t bear to try and replace her. There seems to be no room in his heart for another yet. She lays beneath a beautiful stone in his garden with her name lovingly chiselled by his own hand. And he still has pictures of her on his phone that he will happily show around. She was the best friend he ever had and is unashamedly grieving for her still.

The love for a Best Friend is pure – like the love for a baby.
Nothings spoils that love because there are no bad memories. They never hurt you, never spoil your life like humans can – they only ever enhance.

I was shocked the other day to be told by a devout Anglican that animals do not have souls. I didn’t dignify their comment with a response. Tell that to those who have wept over the loss of their pets and whose pets practically joined souls with their owners in their lifetime.

In my local vets there is a little corner put aside to display a range of mini urns for amimals. It’s so good to see that the pain of losing our Best Friends is both openly and unashamedly acknowledged at last.

A poem for our Best Friends.

Four Feet

I have done mostly what most men do,
And pushed it out of my mind;
But I can’t forget, if I wanted to,
Four-Feet trotting behind.

Day after day, the whole day through —
Wherever my road inclined —
Four-feet said, “I am coming with you!”
And trotted along behind.

Now I must go by some other round,
Which I shall never find
Somewhere that does not carry the sound
Of Four-Feet trotting behind.

 Rudyard Kipling

Modern grief 2 — To shirk suffering is also to shirk those who suffer

17 April 2012
Charles
No comments
Categories: Grief, Secular approaches to death

Posted by Charles

Over at the Heart of Mopsus blog, here,  the Rector of Swanvale Halt took part in an Easter Friday Walk of Witness and reflected as follows:

Christians insist on publicly remembering a single, immensely violent event on a sunny Bank Holiday when everyone else is enjoying themselves; certainly most of my friends, to judge by Facebook which is the measure of all things, were doing and describing a variety of lighthearted activities while I was deliberately and voluntarily turning my mind to pain and horror.

The relationship between these different modes of feeling and thinking is complex. Our natural human tendency is to avoid the painful and problematic, quite understandably and rightly, and yet our understanding of who we are, what we are capable of, and what life can include, is superficial and incomplete if we spend all our time avoiding such dark elements of our common experience – and perhaps that even encourages us to avoid those who suffer, or misjudge them. As always, in my opinion, the Church has down the centuries got this wrong: but I think, by contrast with the heathen world growing up around it, the truth and rightness of the sacrifice of Christ is becoming clearer than ever.