1. You have the right to take whatever path you take through your grief without judgment.
2. You have the right to ignore or incorporate any or all of the MOUNTAINS of advice you will get.
3. You have the right to say: “No thank you.”
4. You have the right to grieve for whatever you have lost, including things you never had but ache for, like phantom limb pain.
5. You have the right to ask people to bring you pizza, not platitudes.
6. You have the right to your own definition of grief. For someone else the loss may have some unknowable reason; it may be a journey, a blessing ‘in disguise’, bad karma, a teachable moment, part of a plan, a test, a process, a choice. It doesn’t have to be any of those things for you. It can simply be where you are at the time. Or it can be senseless, stupid, meaningless and profoundly awful.
7. You have the right not to feel or believe of be comforted by any of the following: “he’s in a better place; his work here was done; she’s in your heart; it’s a blessing; it’s no one’s fault; time heals all wounds; you’ll find a new one; it could have been worse.”
8. You have the right to feel what you can feel when you can feel it. Be numb when you are numb. Seek comfort when you can stand to. Sometimes the deep fog of grief can make all intimacy too painful – any feelings unbearable. You have the right not to bear them even when everyone around you says you MUST FEEL YOUR FEELINGS OR YOU WILL NEVER MOVE ON.
9. You have the right to be inalterably changed. The person you were before the death of your loved one is gone. You are now someone else. You don’t know who yet. It’s your right to find out.
10. You have the right to experience the many tricky, shape-shifting forms grief takes in whatever order you experience them: Here it looks like rage. There it takes the shape of obsession. It has many forms. They are all true. They are all lies. You have the right to stay where you are. Sometimes there are no signs at all. Sometimes you are moving through grief’s darkest depths without knowing it. It’s like starting on the bottom floor of an elevator in the deepest core of the earth. Each floor you go up, the doors open, only to reveal more darkness. It all looks and feels the same, but it is not. You are moving toward where you need to be.
Remember: Deep grief is a profoundly lonely experience, and yet, it binds us all. We all walk beside you, which will give you comfort when you are ready.