Few things are as certain and true as this: all that lives will one day die. Trees, plants, animals, insects, this universe, me and you. Death is coming for all of us; though no one knows when or how. Our entire lives unfold under its shadow. We’re born beneath it; if we’re lucky, we age under it, build careers, homes and relationships, until one day the shadow becomes us. Yet, despite this universal, pervasive, indisputable truth, contemporary society couldn’t be working harder to dismiss it, ignore it, bury it.
This individual and collective denial of death and discomfort with grief became clear to me when my own mother died. In sharing my loss, I forced others to confront the looming presence of death. It made many uncomfortable. Some grew quiet, others awkward, sad, pensive – I witnessed the entire spectrum of human emotions, including avoidance.
Like Siddhartha Gautama’s (the Buddha) father, who shielded his son from suffering by cloistering him in a palace, we, too, have built our own modern palaces with our condos, cars and careers. We’ve distanced ourselves from the most defining moment of life after birth. I saw this erasure play out through my grieving process. I felt pressure to tuck my grief away to preserve others’ comfort. No one told me I had a deadline to feel better, but the unspoken expectation was clear. I returned to work after two weeks of bereavement leave to resume business as per usual, when everything in my world had permanently altered.
For those who haven’t experienced close loss, grief is everything and more than what’s been written, said and heard. Grief is all consuming, and yes it’s like learning a new language. Grief changes you to the bone, for better or for worse.
Given its magnitude, it’s shocking how weak our laws around bereavement are. Canadian federal law grants employees three days of legally mandated bereavement leave, if they have been employed for three months. Provincial laws vary, but none go far enough. Other countries aren’t any better: In the UK, there’s no legally mandated time off to grieve other than for the loss of a child; three days in New Zealand and Italy; while no legal time off in Japan, South Korea or the Philippines, and only for public sector employees in India and Malaysia.
What does that say about us as a society? That we pride ourselves on growth, GDP, output, productivity even in the face of death, loss and at the cost of one’s mental health and well-being?
Historically, many cultures have embraced death. In India, families commonly mourn for the first 13 days with family and loved ones, with a full year of ritual and customs to observe grief. Some Indigenous cultures embrace endocannibalism, a practice of eating the dead to honour and remain connected with them. In other cultures, grief is loud – women ululate together and grieve with their entire bodies, unapologetically. In comparison, we have silenced ourselves in contemporary society, privatizing grief to the isolated quarters of our home. Western countries are quick to label grief as complicated if you’re still grieving past the one year mark, when studies show that life only starts to resume the “normal” rhythm after two years. Why’re we patting people on the back for bouncing back quickly, when most people are likely pretending because they have bills to pay. The hustle and growth-at-all-cost culture is costing us – there’s no running away from death and grief; they are coming for all of us.
We’re in an election cycle. Leaders are unveiling promises about housing, taxes, and the economy. But I’m looking for something else: a vision for a more humane society. I want to see stronger, longer bereavement laws that recognize death and grief for what they are – hard and nonlinear. I want to see a minimum of one month of paid leave for the death of a close loved one, taken flexibly over two years. This is what the grieving process demands. Some days are better than others, and from my experience the second year is even harder than the first, as the truth settles and the bereaved are forced to reckon that those who leave are really never returning. Not only do we need paid time off, but training for managers and employees to support colleagues who are grieving. Most importantly what is needed is the normalization of grief at work instead of pretending it doesn’t exist.
In fact, we need to start normalizing death and grief beyond the workplace. The denial of death is isolating us from a human experience, which, if embraced, can actually create room for more meaning. In the Indian epic, Mahabharata, Yudhister and Yaksha are having a conversation when the latter asks: “What is truly amazing in this world?” Yudhishthira answers: “The most amazing thing is, though humans are mortal, everybody goes about their life as if they are going to be here forever.”
We saw the collective confrontation of human fragility during COVID. For a brief period, the entire world came together in grief, as people everywhere were either losing loved ones, or fearing whether the virus would swallow their existence. As a result, people quit jobs, left relationships, and changed their lives.
Death is the most meaningful moment of our lives after birth. With birth, we are given access to life and with the shadow of death beside us – by remembering that it’s coming for us – we have the opportunity to live it meaningfully.
Support rabble today!
We’re so glad you stopped by! Thanks for consuming rabble content this year.
rabble.ca is 100% reader and donor funded, so as an avid reader of our content, we hope you will consider gifting rabble with a donation during our summer fundraiser today.
Whether it be a one-time donation or a small monthly contribution, your support is critical to keep rabble writers producing the work you’ve come to rely on as a part of a healthy media diet.
Become a rabble rouser — donate to rabble.ca today.
Nick Seebruch, editor
