Dealing with Grief and Loss

A Stoic Approach

From the moment we are born, the human experience is rife with loss. It could be argued that no other occurrences in a person’s life shapes that person more than the losses endured. Repetitive loss, even minor but repetitive enough, can turn a person inward, creating a spiteful and fearful view of the world. Major losses, especially those which catch us off guard, such as the sudden loss of a loved one, can shatter and reshape our world, often for the worse. Conversely, overcoming loss can be one of the most powerful and positive experiences in a person’s life. Either way, one thing is undeniable, loss and the associate grief is a powerful force which shapes our lives in profound ways, sometimes for the better, often times for the worse. The question then becomes, how can loss reliably and sustainably be put to task for our betterment? Stoicism provides an answer.

Over two years ago (at the time of this writing), I suffered a loss, one which, I thought, would break me. For a long time, I thought it did break me. As I look back now, I realize I am far stronger and improved for my loss. The details of this loss are irrelevant, and would only detract from the point of this story. Suffice it to say, in over five decades on this planet, I have not endured much worse. At the time, I truly believed I would not survive it, or at least I would not survive as the person I was. I was right, I did not survive as the person I was, but not in the way I presumed. I presumed I would never again be whole. I believed I would never again know focus, strength, and clarity, and that a piece of me was gone forever. As it turns out, I was wrong with those assumptions, and I owe it to a philosophy I began studying only a few years prior. That philosophy is Stoicism, and it didn’t just carry me through the loss, it empowered me to rise above. I am better, stronger, and more focused than ever. Do not confuse that with, “less sad,” or that I don’t feel that loss daily, I do, I’m simply powerful enough to overcome and move on.

I have written about Stoicism in a few stories, about its relationship to the warrior philosopher lifestyle and in making impressions. You can read more about Stoicism and its history in general in any number of places. In this story, the focus is not stoicism in general, but rather on two specific core tenants of Stoicism and their relationship to managing and overcoming loss. Indeed, not just about managing and overcoming loss, but about advancing one’s self for the better through loss. If loss is an obstacle in your way, then realize, it is also the way forward.

Our actions may be impeded... but there can be no impeding our intentions or dispositions. Because we can accommodate and adapt. The mind adapts and converts to its own purposes the obstacle to our acting. The impediment to action advances action. What stands in the way becomes the way.— Marcus Aurelius, Meditations 5.20

Stoicism is a philosophy and way of looking at the world which, above all else, stresses two concepts; 1) mastery of emotional response; 2) the indifference to material things and externalities. The first concept, mastery of emotional response, embodies the idea that all things are simply how we perceive them to be. An insult is only an insult if you accept it and decide it to be. An event is only negative if you choose it to be. A loss is only a loss if you perceive it to be. It is completely within your power to write any narrative you wish, and perception is always up to you.

If you are pained by any external thing, it is not this thing that disturbs you, but your own judgment about it, and it is in your power to wipe out this judgment now.”—Marcus Aurelius, Meditations, Book 4, Section 7

Men are disturbed not by things, but by the views which they take of them.—Epictetus, Enchiridion §5

“We are more often frightened than hurt; and we suffer more from imagination than from reality.” — Seneca, Letters to Lucilius, Letter XIII, Section 4

“Life is what our thoughts make it.” — Seneca, Letters to Lucilius, Letter XVI, Section 76

The second concept, indifference to externalities (including other people’s actions), tells us that if we cannot affect something, give it no effort. This is not to say, ignore it, it is to say, do not try to alter it or impact it. Deal with it by focusing on what you can control, and accept what you cannot. Be indifferent to anything and everything you cannot influence. Closely related to that idea, do not be concerned with the possession of material things, including and especially the presence or absence of others in your life. Material things (including other people) are external to you and can be taken from you through any manner of occurrences, all beyond your control. People can leave you in any number of ways, none of which are in your control. Loss is not in your control; therefore, we must be indifferent to loss. Our reaction to loss is in our control; therefore, we must expend our energy there.

You have power over your mind — not outside events. Realize this, and you will find strength.” —Marcus Aurelius, Meditations, Book 6, Section 8

If you are distressed by anything external, the pain is not due to the thing itself, but to your estimate of it; and this you have the power to revoke at any moment. —Marcus Aurelius, Meditations, Book 8, Section 47

To become indifferent to loss, and more importantly, to advance ourselves through loss, we must recognize and control our perceptions of externalities. When you lose something, whether it be a cherished object or a cherished person, you have not lost anything because you never really owned them in the first place. Anything external to you is always outside your control, and only your perception of people and things being inside your control causes you to feel possession. It is this false perception of ownership which causes grief, and not the loss itself. If we wish to change the narrative of loss, we must discard the false perception that anything outside ourselves was truly ours in the first place. If it was never yours, how can you lose it? You can’t. If you cannot lose something or someone because it was never yours in the first place, then you cannot be distressed over the loss of that something—or someone.

“Never say about anything, ‘I have lost it,’ but instead, ‘I have returned it.’ Is your child dead? It has been returned. Is your wife dead? She has been returned. Is your property taken from you? That too has been returned. Someone else might have taken it, but it was always not yours — it was given for now, not forever. So when Nature takes it back, be thankful for the time you had it, and let it go with grace.”—Epictetus, Enchiridion, §11

Stoicism teaches us to treat both material possessions and the people we care for not as permanent possessions or attachments, but as temporary loans from time and good fortune. Each day, be grateful for those things and people in your life, and each night reflect on the possibility that you may wake to a world without those things or people. In this way, we recognize and control our perceptions by recognizing a fundamental quality to human existence which we often forget—time. We do not live in a static world, we live through time. Time necessities change, and change necessitates things comes to an end. More often than not, the reason we perceive some endings to be losses is that we neglected to recognize time. We tend to think of people in our lives as being there forever. We frequently see our possessions as being ours until we decide to discard them. We ignorantly separate people and things from time and consider them ours forever, rather than understanding the truth; those things don’t belong to us, and they never did; they belong to time and time will do with them as it pleases.

Consider an event for which we do not fail to account for time, something as simple as a vacation trip. Assume you partake on a vacation, a trip to an exotic location, planned and executed to perfection, resulting in wonderful experiences and memories. For this event, time is explicitly planned into the event from the start. You know it will begin, you know it will end, and you know to make the most of it while it is with you because you accounted for time. When this event ends, we do not say, “I lost my vacation.” Rather, we say, “my vacation ended.” We don’t morn the loss of a vacation in the same way we grieve the loss of a person or cherished possession. We may be sad the vacation is over, but we do not mourn and grieve it as a loss. We may miss the vacation and events and people we met along the way, but we never frame it as a loss, and we do not lose hope and despair because we are no longer on vacation. In fact, we often frame it as things gained, e.g., experiences and memories, and we immediately look forward to the next vacation; reminiscing on the old, and planning the new. Why do we perceive this event’s ending not as a loss, but rather as an opportunity for growth? Time. We accounted for time right from the start. We knew the vacation would end before it began, so we fully appreciated it while it was here. In this realization, the Stoic has the tools to steel themselves against any grief or loss.

“Time is a river, a violent current of events, glimpsed once and already carried past us, and another follows and is gone.”—Marcus Aurelius, Meditations, Book 4, Section 43

The universe is change; life is opinion.—Marcus Aurelius, Meditations 4.3

Everything is ephemeral, both that which remembers and that which is remembered.— Marcus Aurelius, Meditations, Book 4, Section 35

Every new day is only a sequel to the day that went before; and no day is a fresh beginning, but a continuation of the past.—Seneca, Letters to Lucilius, Letter 102, §25

Now consider a loss you have suffered and do not consider it a loss. Understand that time simply had its way, naturally, and you have not lost anything. What you perceive as a loss is not lost, it simply ended its time, as it was meant to do from the start. You did not lose that person, object, pet, job; the experience of those things simply came to an end because that’s what experiences do, they end. However, you are still here. Just as you can plan your next vacation based on the experiences and good memories of your last vacation, you can plan your future experiences, next relationships, and next acquisitions based on the good memories of your experiences.

In my case, I was devastated by my loss until I realized the truth of time, and through that realization I realized the truth of perceptions. I did not lose anything. In fact, I gained. I gained memories, experience, insights, strength, and clarity of purpose. When the time for an ending was upon me, it was up to me to recognize that I still carry those memories, experiences, and insights forward to my next experiences. Those things are mine now, I carry them with me, they are internal to me and wholly within my control. What ended was not mine in the first place, it was external to me and belonged to time and good fortune. Time and good fortune gave me a gift, and that gift (like all things) had a beginning and an ending. It was never going to be any other way, and to mourn its ending is to dishonor the gift and everything it meant.

Contrary to popular belief, the Stoic perspective does not negate or deny the feelings of sadness, grief, anger, or loss. Those feelings remain when endings are upon us, and there is nothing we can do about them. People who attempt to adopt Stoicism as a method to negate feelings are missing the point. The Stoic feels the full range of emotions, including grief and loss. What Stoicism gives us the tools to change the perceptions of those feelings, and our reactions to them, and to find comfort in those changes. Stoicism does not advocate the elimination of feelings, it provides for the mastery of emotion. Stoicism provides the realization that in the end, it is really only our perceptions of loss and grief which make them good or bad, helpful or harmful, and which makes memories fond or painful. Stoicism teaches us to reflect daily on the people and things we have in our lives, and to be grateful for them in the here-and-now. Realize now, as sure as time marches forward, the people and things in our lives today will eventually be gone. Recognize that when we suffer grief over loss, it is more often than not because we regret all the things we could have said, could have done, and we wish for more time to say and do those things. So, begin now to reduce that grief (which is surely coming) by not taking for granted what and who you have right now. Plan for each person in your life, as you plan for a vacation. Realize they have a beginning and an ending in your life, and treat them each day as if that ending is one day sooner—because it is.

The message is simple; don’t take for granted what you have now because it will end soon enough.

Start now by recognizing that time will always have its way, and all experiences come to an end. Then also realize time will come back around with your next opportunities and experiences, and when it does, be ready to receive them and be grateful for them. Too often we consider time to be a thief, coming to rob us of youth, family, friends, and possessions. Instead, in Stoic fashion, consider time to be a friend, coming by every so often to give you gifts, and it’s up to you what you do with those gifts before they are gone because they will come to an end soon enough. Appreciate each gift in life while it is here, and don’t morn the loss when that gift departs. Prepare yourself daily to keep the only part of gifts which are yours, the memories and experiences, and let go what is not yours and never was—everything else.

Do not act as if thou wert going to live ten thousand years. Death hangs over thee. While thou livest, while it is in thy power, be good.—Marcus Aurelius, Meditations, Book 4, Section 17

It is not that we have a short space of time, but that we waste much of it. Life is long enough, and it has been given in sufficiently generous measure to allow the accomplishment of the very greatest things, if the whole of it is well invested—Seneca, De Brevitate Vitae, Chapter 1, Section 3

Μου λείπεις αγάπη μου.