Four In the Morning

Share this post

Grief Comes in More than One Flavor

www.johno.blog

Grief Comes in More than One Flavor

On Cherry Coke, Ambiguous Grief and the Permission to Self-Diagnose

John Onwuchekwa
Jul 20, 2023
20
Share this post

Grief Comes in More than One Flavor

www.johno.blog
8
Share

closeup photo of Coca-Cola bottle
Photo by Jordan Whitfield on Unsplash

It was 1985. One year after I was born, the world as we knew it would change forever.

After several years of intense research and development, as well as early consumer testing at the 1982 World’s Fair, the Coca Cola company decided to launch a new flavor.

Cherry Coke. (Still my favorite Coke to this day)

Less than 3 months after its debut, it had a 91% consumer awareness. EVERYBODY knew about it and almost EVERYONE that knew about it resonated with it. It was as if there had been a secret meeting to stockpile it once it dropped. For the first time, Coke was being offered in more than one flavor. And it resonated with the masses in a way that has been unparalleled among similar product launches.

It was nothing short of amazing.

I get similar responses anytime I introduce a concept from one of the most important books I’ve ever read on Grief—The Myth of Closure: Ambiguous Loss in Times of Pandemic and Change by Pauline Boss. In the 1970’s she coined a term that’s essentially the Cherry Coke of Grief.

Ambiguous Loss. Basically, grief comes in more than one flavor.

Grief comes in more than one flavor: Tangible & Ambiguous

There’s at least two kinds of grief: tangible and ambiguous. Here’s the difference.

Tangible

When most of us think grief, we think of a tangible loss. The order of events go a little something like this.

  • I lost somebody. My loved one died.

  • My loved one gets buried—dropped into the ground.

  • Tears begin to drop from my face.

  • People can tangibly see the reason I’m crying. They connect my falling tears to my fallen loved ones.

  • I’m (usually) surrounded (at least for a time) with tangible hugs, handshakes, casseroles and phone calls.

The result: While this grief is incredibly heavy, there are usually willing people surrounding the griever to help them carry the load (at least for a time). There’s tangible support and comfort offered (in the best of cases). I’m surrounded and supported.

Ambiguous

Ambiguous grief is different. It’s not as tangible, clear and certain. Matter of fact, it’s anything but tangible, clear and certain. It’s a grief with no definite boundary or closure. Deaths with no funerals or caskets.

  • The death of a dream.

  • The death of a friendship - people physically present but emotionally absent.

  • The death of a relationship.

  • Chronic sickness. A kidnapping. Family deployed to the military. And the list goes and on and on.

The result: While this grief can be just as heavy, it’s a grief you have to deal with alone because people who surround you don’t quite get it. ESPECIALLY, if they’ve dealt with a traumatic tangible loss of their own. They may spend their time comparing their grief to yours. Or worse, they keep hitting you with Cease & Desist orders on your use of the word grief.

If grief is a language, not a lot of people speak this dialect.

So when you get a divorce and have to miss out on milestones with your kids because they’re spending the weekend with your unfaithful ex…your body goes through the same things physiologically as those who’ve lost things tangibly. But, so often the people surrounding you don’t get it—and you may not feel the permission to use the word grief.

Well I’ve good good news for you.

Grief comes in more than one flavor. And no one owns the patent.

Everything Can Change, Even though Nothing Has

Sometimes being able to name your feelings can change everything. It’s like getting a prescription for an illness that no one’s been able to identify. The prescription paper doesn’t actually change anything. But it changes EVERYTHING.

That piece of paper between your fingers is you tangibly holding on to hope.

I hope if you’re wrestling with ambiguous grief today, you at least know you’re not alone. If the hugs, handshakes, and casseroles don’t come—I’m sending this little note to remind you you’re not crazy.

You’re not alone.

You’re human.

Peace.


Day 6 of 30 Days of Hope

If you’re at all interested in living at the intersection of Grief & Hope, I can't recommend this book enough.

(And if you've read it, do you agree? What other book would you recommend for beginners?)

Thanks for reading Four In the Morning! Subscribe for free to receive new posts and support my work.

20
Share this post

Grief Comes in More than One Flavor

www.johno.blog
8
Share
Previous
Next
8 Comments
Share this discussion

Grief Comes in More than One Flavor

www.johno.blog
Seumas Macdonald
Writes Subversive Compliance
Jul 21Liked by John Onwuchekwa

Thanks for this series and this one in particular. I find both hope and comfort in your words and the reality they point to. I have also benefited so much from being able to name ambiguous grief *as* grief and own it as such.

Expand full comment
Reply
Share
1 reply by John Onwuchekwa
Kim Sutphen
Jul 20Liked by John Onwuchekwa

So much truth! Thank you for starting our day with these words of compassion.

Expand full comment
Reply
Share
1 reply by John Onwuchekwa
6 more comments...
Top
New
Community

No posts

Ready for more?

© 2023 John Onwuchekwa
Privacy ∙ Terms ∙ Collection notice
Start WritingGet the app
Substack is the home for great writing