Grief & Endings (Death XIII)

Unpacking Grief and Loss

Experiencing states of mourning that have nothing to do with physical death

Tarot Focus: Death (XIII)

I am in a state of grieving right now. But it’s probably not what you think it is. Typically, when we hear the word “grief” we automatically attach it to a death of some sort, the loss of a loved one such as a family member, spouse, lover, friend or pet. But grief can present itself in other ways that aren’t the result of the death of a living being.

Throughout our lives we will grieve for many different reasons, some of which may even challenge our perception as to WHY we are experiencing feelings of sadness, fear, depression or all of the above. When the Death card appears in a tarot spread, it can ignite feelings of dread and fear because we are so predisposed to connect it directly to the death of a physical body or being. But the Death card is actually about inner transformation and shedding old skin or ways of being. It is a challenging card, because it asks the querent to consider the ways in which she may still need to change. That’s not easy for most of us.

This card recently came up for me in a spread I pulled yesterday. Most people who are not close to me don’t know that I am a closet smoker. I have smoked cigarettes on and off since I was about 15 years old, when my girlfriend and I would steal them from her grandma’s bathroom cabinet, then walk around the county fair not inhaling and thinking we looked cool. There have been times in my life I’ve given them up rather easily, and other times where I have floundered and failed again and again. 

Smoking for me has never been about a physical addiction to Nicotine or tobacco. Smoking has always been an accompaniment to drinking, an oral ritual of unwinding and cutting loose that I have enjoyed in excess since my early twenties. And after times I’ve been able to cut it out, I’ve picked it right back up again the minute I experienced any kind of high stress or trauma. I started again after I lost my arm, then went full tilt back into it after Orion’s cancer diagnosis and my affair (which happened pretty simultaneously.) 

In the summer of 2016 I began renting a little bungalow in the historic district of my town and enjoyed ample nights sitting alone on my big porch, inhaling the night sky, the smoke and copious amounts of wine. I found sanctuary and ritual in this place, where the rest of my life felt like a sad, dark hole filled with nothing but despair and hopelessness. My home, my porch, my own bedroom, my alter, my cards, my sage, my crystals, my meditation, my visions, my ritual - these became the things I pulled in close around me like a soft warm blanket to protect me from the terrifying storm of Orion’s cancer, the guilt of my infidelity, the breakdown of my marriage, the stress of my job and the cold silence of my affair. 

That was four years and many lovers ago. Orion is no longer in treatment. His father and I have a healthy co-parenting partnership. I have started two successful businesses doing exactly what I want to be doing, and yet every night I’m on my porch, engrossed in my ritual, wondering what purpose it is still serving me. I am starting to feel tired and foggy in the mornings, the smoke and tar weighing as heavy in my lungs as the guilt on my conscience. And then yesterday morning, something switched. I woke up sad and longing to change. I asked my guides for help in understanding why I am so stuck in this behavioral pattern when I’m no longer grieving like I was. And the answer I received was surprising. Instead of being scolded for my disgusting and unhealthy ways of self-medicating, I was told to go easy on myself. I was shown that my grief was about so much more than Orion or my marriage. I was reminded that I have also been down several romantic roads that have dead-ended, been thorny and rocky, or just dropped off a cliff with no warning. I was reminded that my journey has not been easy, and that all of this ritual has had a purpose. Then I was told to call upon the archangel Raphael for healing help, and to possibly seek alternative medicine (hello, weed card! ) I was told to love myself, relax and know that if I truly want to change I can. 

So then I was faced with the task of understanding what thought patterns were happening in my brain that were keeping me from changing my behavior. What was it about my nightly ritual that has me so afraid to change it? In the present moment, the only thing I was starting to take away from it was guilt, a scratchy throat and a persistent cough. So I spent some time exploring this question with a friend and meditating on it during my walk. 

What I came up with was this: My ritual WAS necessary. It was a necessary coping mechanism that helped me feel reconnected to my true, inner witchiness. It served as a way for me to disconnect from the world so I could turn my focus inward and try to find peace and resolution within myself and with the difficult outer circumstances I was navigating. So the reason I’m having a hard time giving it up is because it means I’ll be saying goodbye to something that held redemptive qualities for me during a very dark time. I’ll be saying goodby to that sad woman sitting on the porch in her black nightgown, staring at the moon, sipping on wine, slowly pulling on the orange flame and exhaling pain and guilt with every long, gray plume. It means I’ll be grieving the loss of my coming-of-age years, my party years, my driving around in my convertible blasting punk rock with a cigarette dangling from my lips years, and my dark night of the soul hanging on for dear life taking back my power years. That’s why this is so hard. But in truth, I do not need to mourn the death of those women. Rather, I’m honoring the life of those women by becoming the next woman I’m supposed to be: the woman who loves herself enough to put an end to a ritual she knows is not serving her anymore. 

There is grief even through positive change and transformation, because it always means something needs to end. And endings can be really scary. But when Death calls, it is an invitation to level up, to meet him head-on with honesty and compassion for the purpose of self-improvement and growth. Because a new, better beginning is ALWAYS waiting the moment you choose to snuff out one flame and light a new fire instead.