From boyhood to manhood: Grief and steadiness

When there is an eclipse, the sun is not buried but blurred.

However, with some men, when there’s grief, the life is buried. In this article, I want to share principles of good grieving using the letters from the word GRIEF.

Grow with each loss reminder
The triggers for our losses should not be counted as working against us. They should help us to develop muscles in our loss journeys. They should help us to see other open doors. For instance, as a childless man, seeing a pregnant woman must remind me that I have conceived a dream that I must nurture to full-term. While it has the potential of killing my joy, good grief should help me grow. I may not have a child, but I am birthing a dream that will outlive me.

In this way, I will grow with each loss reminder I encounter.
Release pent-up frustrations
Anything that is with me, possesses me. Anything that I give away doesn’t use up space in the recess of my mind. It is good to free up some disk space so that the mind will be able to process bigger visions. Harbouring my emotions and pretending I am not hurt will not help. Maturely expressing my pain will turn grief into relief.
Identify loss triggers

If I don’t know my enemy, I will always fall prey to him. Identifying and listing what triggers the loss of the intangible will help me to either avoid the avoidable or to have a way to cope to grow.
Edify yourself with positive thoughts

It is true that misery loves company. When the mind is fed with negativity, the constant inner chatter will be, “I am a never do well.” This journey calls for journalling positive affirmations. Having life changing “I am” statements make a huge difference for the day. Below is an example of “I am” statements you can use:

I am special
I am a well of wisdom
I am a child of the Owner of the universe
I am worthy
I am not alone
I am a warrior
I am a caring husband, etc.

The mind believes anything it is told. If I say, “I am helpless,” I will be making a statement that being childless is being helpless. If I feel powerless, I should turn to my source of strength and speak positively to the champion that I am. I am a winner.
Focus on your goals

When we lose something, we are labelled through our losses. We are laughed at, ridiculed, asked questions we have no answers to, and sometimes given recommendations that never work for us. We are also sometimes looked down upon. Ayobami Adebayo, author of the book Stay with Me, pointed out that, “There’s this idea that at the lowest rungs of the social ladder in an African family is a childless woman — and the lowest rung of all is a motherless child.” Men are not exempt from this negativity. Consequently, we are always vulnerable to being side-tracked from our full pursuit of life’s goals. In my self-funded research, one childless woman noted that even when we have done our best, we receive our accolades with a minus – which is childlessness. When it is a man, the insult is deeper and the suggestions are many. Let us not be deterred, but tenaciously cling to our goals and their fulfilment.
It is good to use grief as a tool to be a fuel for the dreams and visions that we are bringing to life. In the words of Winston Churchill, we “will never reach (our) destination if [we] stop and throw stones at every dog that barks.”
Let’s keep moving. There is more to life than childbearing. Whatever your goals are, pursue them with passion and condemn the world to a task of explaining who you are. Let others wonder how you can afford to smile when you are ranked as the least among your people. Focusing on the goals will help us grieve forwards and not deleteriously.
Consider the words of my new poem entitled, They Call it Grief, I Call it Relief. As you muse on its words, may your grief bring relief.

They Call it Grief, I Call it Relief
As empty clouds that bring no rain
Threateningly dark but quaking in vain
Their thunderous reverberation may remain
So is the anguish of losing what I can’t explain
They call it grief, I call it relief
For a baby that lingers in my mind
His tangibility none can truly find
Lost in the terraces that I try to ride
Understood by those in my tribe
Pained by those who want me to describe
A club I cannot in joy subscribe
But wallow in the mud I reside
They call it grief, I call it relief
Although some feel it’s a lie
Losing what they can’t identify
All I can do is to always try
In all situations never deny
If I don’t do it, I will slowly die
I release all to Him who is on high
He hugs and draws me nigh
And understands why I cry
They call it grief, I call it relief

l Sikhumbuzo Dube is a pastor, chaplain, counsellor and founder of Shunem Care, a ministry to the involuntarily childless and emotionally wounded people. He has published several articles on spiritual care, mental health, chaplaincy and involuntary childlessness.