This book is about my own bereavement. Collette and I were married for nearly forty-five years when she died in 1987. With the help of our five children, I looked after Collette for over two and a half years. It was a very stressful time for the entire family. I learned many things during Collette’s illness.

The most important piece was that I needed help to care for her. This book is written in gratitude to Victoria Hospice for assistance both during Collette’s illness and after her death. I am also grateful to the many bereaved friends whose kindnesses, even to this day, are a wonder to me. These associations over the past sixteen years have led me to believe that I have some insights worth sharing, not only with the bereaved but also with their families and friends. These are the principles in which I believe: 
• The bereaved are best helped by other bereaved people. 
• The process of bereavement begins on the day that a loved one is recognized as terminally ill and ends with one’s own death. 
• Bereaved people require an emotionally safe place where they can tell their stories without fear, interruption, or judgment. 
• Grief is extremely personal. The grief experience is unique to each individual. 
• This experience is neither tied to specific time frames nor to preconceived notions of behavior. 
• Bereaved people need the support and understanding of friends in order to make life changes and to enter into new relationships.

The definition of bereavement is generally accepted as pertaining to the loss of a loved one, but it includes loss of any kind: a friendship terminated; a bitterly contested divorce; the death of a pet. We must respect all forms of loss. We must also take into account the vast differences in cultural and religious traditions with respect to how the death  of  a  loved  one  might  be honored.  Canada  is  a multi-cultural nation. The Canadian Mosaic demands sensitivity to the unique origins and perspectives of all of its citizens. We must be mindful, also, of the fact that loving relationships are diverse in nature. 

In considering how to present my bereaved experience, I realized that I had no idea where to begin. It occurred to me that I might fall into the trap of just rambling on, telling stories that might be of some interest but wouldn’t necessarily have any value unless there were things to be learned from them. 

I want the telling to be more than entertainment, more than food for thought for the curious. I want people to know about my love for Collette. I want readers to know how much I appreciate the loving care that she received. I want bereaved people to realize that, while their lives will go on, the past will remain with them, always. In spite of uncertainties about how to proceed, I know that I want the personal nature of bereavement to inform the telling. 

My friend, Sharon, shared a powerful quotation with me. It has reinforced my sense that I may be on the right track  after  all.  The  following  is  a  paraphrase  of  Alice Walker’s description, in an interview about her work in Common Boundary, of the healing power of story telling.

Story telling has a real function. The process of the story telling itself is a healing process, partly because someone is taking the time to tell a story that has great meaning to the person. The story teller is taking the time because your life could use some help, but the teller doesn’t want to come out and just give advice. The teller wants to give the story to you in a form that becomes inseparable from your whole self. That’s what stories do. They differ from advice in that once you understand the meaning they become incorporated into the fabric of your soul. That is why story telling heals.

Most writing by bereaved people seems to relate to the writer’s experience but rarely offers practical examples which others can use to help them with their own bereavement. We learn from one another, sometimes unconsciously, at other times purposefully, as when we consciously seek advice. Given wisely, advice from a variety of sources can be of great comfort to the bereaved. Of greater assistance are the kinds of stories with which the bereaved can identify because of the intensity of their own experience. The following story is an example of the power of this shared intensity.

At a Hospice Christmas gathering, I had an experience that I will never forget. I participated in this event as a bereaved person whose presence was intended to lend an authentic tone to the session. The group dynamic was dominated, quite dramatically, by a young woman who was distraught almost to the point of incoherence. Her tears evolved into gut-wrenching sobs interspersed with cries of Why, oh why? The power of her distress was such that I could barely think. I knew, however, that I had to do something to ease her pain. I took her hand in mine and said: It’s a bitch, isn’t it?

The most amazing thing happened. She stopped crying. She looked me directly in the eye and said, “You know, don’t you?” We spent the rest of the session sitting quietly while she told me her story. Her lover had died in a terrible accident, alone. She wasn’t able to say goodbye to the man in her life. He was gone, and no one wanted to talk about his death. She felt alone and abandoned by family and friends. She came to Hospice to find someone who would listen to her story and who could understand what it meant for her. 

Shared Knowledge: Dealing with Bereavement focuses on similar stories. I have tried to convey the meaning embedded in each. Perhaps you would like to hear what happened to me. Thus begins the sharing of amazing stories and voices – gently, subtly, and with the deepest respect for the experience of the individual.

Until you have lost a life companion, you can’t possibly know how difficult existence can become. Until you have experienced the loving caring concern and the understanding of bereaved friends, you have no idea how good your life can become, once again. We have all loved. We have all been loved in return. We are now alone. We do the best that we can. I am convinced that the best that we can do is to share our stories in the hope that they will foster the kind of healing power to which Alice Walker refers.

Shared Knowledge: Dealing with Bereavement articulates the voices of remarkable people with remarkable spirits. For some, the story telling has been difficult. Even so, a sense of love, compassion, understanding, and humor is evident throughout. The consistent theme in this collective story is one of gratitude for the gift of a kind of love that becomes embedded in the very fabric of being.