The Rise of the Potential Phoenix

Albeit based on Greek mythology, the idea behind this mythical creature is something I recognize a lot in the grieving community. I recently had the tv on and one of the movies from the Harry Potter series was on, and something amazing was revealed to me while watching, a character was referencing the great bird, the Phoenix. Now before you stop reading and tune me out because I’m using a Harry Potter reference, just hold on a minute. This famous character named Dumbledore was giving an account on this beloved creature of his, Fawkes, the Phoenix; he had spontaneously burnt up in his cage right in front of Harry Potter. Harry was so apologetic as he thought he caused the bird to burn up. Dumbledore explained it this way, “They burst into flame when it is time for them to die and then they are reborn from the ashes. Fascinating creatures, Phoenixes. They can carry immensely heavy loads and their tears have healing powers…”

I thought in this fictional movie that this was a powerful explanation of how grief may look for some of us. I recognize myself in this mythical creature. The loss of my dad brought finality to everything where he was concerned in the physical. It felt for me that when my dad died that little pieces of me died with him, hard to explain to someone who hasn’t experienced a death of someone extremely close to them, but I know those that have, this statement resonates. I’m so thankful for my huge vault of memories that I have of my dad, from as young as I can remember to my last birthday that I was able to celebrate with him 2 months before he died. The death of your loved one isn’t the only death that takes place, it’s the death of what could have been had my dad survived. I could almost see myself crumbling to ash after he died, a big pile of my 38 years as his daughter broken and trying to figure out how to put the pieces together after, how to move forward.

I have learned in the over 7 years of his passing that I too was able to carry heavy loads, but I also can look back and see that how I was coping may not have been the most desirable to others, or the most beneficial to those closest to me, but I recognize that I was surrounded by real life Phoenixes. They were carrying parts of my grief for me, and it didn’t appear that way in the present, but I can most definitely see that is what they were doing, and it gave me the space to start my healing process. The key word here is process, “a series of actions or steps taken in order to achieve a particular end…”, the kicker here is, there is no end to your grief, it lessens over time, it’s not in the forefront 7 years later like it was 7 months after.

For me, on my grief journey, I have found that there has been some healing in all the tears that I have shed over the death of my dad. I also have found screaming, hollering, punching a heavy bag, kicking a heavy bag, laughing, while crying might I add, have also had a healing effect on me. When I was knee deep, trudging through the muddy, messy grief, and even now as a seasoned griever, the tears come, not as often but somehow for me they almost act like the cord we plug our phones into and get charged back up, the tears that fall acknowledge my loss and allow me to keep moving in that process of moving forward in my life in spite of the absence of my dad.

I saw a great diagram of grief, and how people may interpret what happens to the bereaved over periods of time; people may think that our grief shrinks, but really, we learn to live around the grief, we truly have no choice. I see in myself and those I’ve had the opportunity and privilege to walk alongside, who are in the knee-deep journey of their grief, the mythical creature the Phoenix, being born. Our tears are used to help heal our own loss but prepare us to help carry the immense burden of those who come behind us.