OMEGA, Vol.

49(3) 197-215, 2004

DISENFRANCHISED GRIEF REVISITED:

DISCOUNTING HOPE AND LOVE

THOMAS ATTIG, PH.D.

Bowling Green State University

ABSTRACT

Kenneth Doka’s two anthologies on disenfranchised grief (Doka, 1989,

2002) are filled with discussions of the effects of disenfranchisement and its
scope. The present article furthers reflection on both topics. It first explores
the nature of disenfranchisement as a denial of a mourner’s “right to grieve”
and analyzes the empathic, political, and ethical failures involved in this
denial. It then notes that the literature on the subject is dominated by treat-
ments of the disenfranchisement of suffering. And it urges that the scope of
disenfranchisement extends to efforts to overcome suffering, the constructive
labors of hope and love at the heart of grieving response to bereavement.

Although our world is full of suffering,

it is full also of the overcoming of it.
— Helen Keller

DISENFRANCHISED GRIEF AS DENIAL OF A RIGHT

Doka, in the “Introduction” to his 2nd volume, offers a succinct definition of dis-
enfranchised grief: “Survivors are not accorded a ‘right to grieve’” (Doka, 2002,
p. 5). However, he does not explicitly articulate an understanding of what it means
to have a “right” to grieve. The following is offered as clarification: Rights are
most readily understood as entitlements. Most commonly, holders of rights of the
type in question are entitled to do or experience something (e.g., to worship, speak

197
Ó 2004, Baywood Publishing Co., Inc.
198 / ATTIG

their minds, or have privacy). And they are entitled to non-interference from others
in the free exercise of their rights.
Rights, then, are strongly analogous to tickets. Just as ticket holders are free to
use a ticket or not, so holders of rights are free to choose whether to exercise them
or not. And, ordinarily, just as no one is obligated to use a ticket, no one is
obligated to exercise a right. But, just as a ticket holder must be granted admission
or a seat when he or she presents a ticket, so others are obligated to honor a right
by allowing its holder to exercise it when he or she chooses to do so. They may
not interfere in or prohibit the exercise of the right.
On this understanding, the right to grieve entitles a bereaved person to grieve
in a manner and when he or she needs or chooses to, free of interference from
others. No one is obligated to grieve or to do so in a particular way. In response,
others are obligated to honor the right and refrain from interfering in the experi-
ences and efforts of grieving. Disenfranchisement of grief, as such interference,
violates the mourner’s right to grieve.
But more can be said about the kind of right that the right to grieve is. Some
rights are conventions established by governments or other institutions, for
example, rights to vote, own property, drive a truck, park, or access facilities
restricted to “members only.” Other rights are matters of human right, essential
to human dignity, not simply conventions (though they may be subject to some
conventional limitations), e.g., rights to speak, worship, receive a fair trial, enter
into relationships, or not be enslaved. Clearly, the “right to grieve” is not
something that governments or institutions can rightfully establish by con-
vention. Unfortunately, then, the term “disenfranchise” misses the mark by
suggesting that, like the practice of denying someone the right to vote (the
franchise), it is a matter of denying them entitlement to do something that it
is within the power of institutions to grant. Rather, the “right to grieve” is a
matter of human dignity. It is grounded in recognition of the nature of human
attachments and the inherent needs and desires of all who live in the human
condition to grieve in their own ways when loved ones die. Consequently,
disenfranchisement of grief is correctly understood to be a matter of denying a
human right, not a conventional right.
With this understanding of a right to grieve, we can see that disenfranchising
is not simply a matter of indifference to the experiences and efforts of the
bereaved. It is more actively negative and destructive as it involves denial of
entitlement, interference, and even imposition of sanction. Disenfranchising
messages actively discount, dismiss, disapprove, discourage, invalidate, and
delegitimate the experiences and efforts of grieving. And disenfranchising
behaviors interfere with the exercise of the right to grieve by withholding
permission, disallowing, constraining, hindering, and even prohibiting it.

To illustrate, consider the story of Martha’s disenfranchised grief. Her

parents divorced when she was fifteen. She was forced to choose which parent
 DISENFRANCHISED GRIEF REVISITED / 199

to live with. Through considerable anguish, she chose to live with her mother.
Her father moved to another city and became quite distant emotionally. He
remarried and established a second family.
Martha’s father died when she was in her late twenties. She was informed of
her father’s death and traveled to attend his funeral. When she appeared
during calling hours, the eyes and gestures of surviving members of his new
family greeted her apprehensively. Clearly, she made them uncomfortable,
and she tried her best to be inconspicuous. Within but a few minutes, and
before she even had a chance to approach her father’s body in his casket, she
was told by a spokesman for the family that she was not welcome that evening.
“Please leave now, and know that we do not want to see you at the funeral.
You rejected your father, hurting him terribly, and none of us want anything
to do with you.”
Martha was startled and distraught. Swallowing hard out of respect for
the pain and anguish of the family, and not wanting to make a scene, she
withdrew. She decided not to attend her father’s funeral, again deferring to the
wishes, really demands, of his new family. She took the initiative to approach
the funeral director the next day. Respecting her position as an immediate
survivor, he arranged for her to spend time with her father’s body where
she would have an opportunity to speak to him, touch him again, pray, and
say goodbye without the knowledge of the others.

Martha’s grief was decidedly disenfranchised. The pain of rejection com-

pounded the pain of first breaking with her father through an unwanted and forced
choice and then losing him through an unanticipated death. Her sorrow and her
anguish over unfinished business with her father were dismissed as insignificant
and inappropriate. And she was excluded from rituals that could support her
grieving. Her father’s new family made it clear that they believed she had no
right to grieve for him. Martha, well centered as she was, knew that she had not
only a need to grieve but also a right to do so. The funeral director respected
both that need and that right.

THE SCOPE OF DISENFRANCHISEMENT

Doka, in his first anthology (Doka, 1989), emphasized elements of bereavement
that can be disenfranchised:
1. Relationships may be disenfranchised if they are non-traditional, e.g., homo-
sexual or extra-marital; are thought not to be close enough, e.g., are not with
spouses or members of the immediate family; have remained unsuspected
or secret; or are viewed as acceptable though their full implications are
not appreciated, e.g., with friends, colleagues, in-laws, or ex-spouses.
2. Losses may be disenfranchised when there is failure to recognize that a death
has been experienced as a significant loss, e.g., perinatal deaths, abortions,
deaths of companion animals, the psychological/social deaths of Alzheimer’s
sufferers, deaths of prisoners, or deaths on the “losing” side in a war.
200 / ATTIG

3. Grievers may be disenfranchised when there is failure to acknowledge that

some persons are capable of grieving, e.g., young children, the elderly, or
people with mental disabilities.

In his second anthology (Doka, 2002), he added two other categories:

4. Circumstances of the death, another feature of bereavement, may be disen-

franchised if they inhibit either solicitation of support by the bereaved or
offering of support by others, e.g., suicides, deaths from AIDS or other
stigmatized diseases, mutilating deaths, executions, or deaths of alcoholics.
5. Ways individuals grieve may be disenfranchised when styles of experi-
encing and expressing grief clash with the expectations of others, e.g., when
instrumental grievers fail to show a strong affective response to loss,
intuitive grievers show too much emotion, or culturally engrained stoicism
or wailing violate the grieving rules of a given society.

Charles Corr (2002, pp. 39-60) expands the scope of understanding of what
can be disenfranchised beyond aspects of bereavement.

1. Grief reactions and expressions of them can be disenfranchised when some

actually insist that it is inappropriate for the bereaved to even experience the
feelings, somatic effects, thoughts, and behaviors that come over them as
they spontaneously react to the death of someone they love, as if it were
possible to short-circuit reflexes. Or when others, who don’t go that far,
sanction expressions of certain feelings and thoughts or disapprove of
behaviors.
2. Mourning can be disenfranchised when the significance of rituals in
response to loss is dismissed or the bereaved are discouraged from attending
or participating in them; or, when others discount the efforts of the bereaved
to cope with loss and the suffering it causes or to contend with the hardship
of meeting new challenges in life. They visit unrealistic expectations on
mourners about, e.g., repeating stories about what happened or dwelling
on their hurt.
3. Outcomes of grieving/mourning can be disenfranchised when some respond
negatively to mourners who, e.g., take too long with their mourning, fail to
return to “normal” or move on, persistently hurt, are slow to take up new
relationships, or maintain a relationship with the deceased.

FAILURES OF DISENFRANCHISEMENT

Disenfranchisement of grief is a serious social failure in several distinct

respects. Some have urged that it is a failure of empathy, which it surely is. But it
is not merely that; it is deeper and more serious. Disenfranchisement of grief is a
political failure involving both abuse of power and serious neglect. And it is an
 DISENFRANCHISED GRIEF REVISITED / 201

ethical failure to respect the bereaved both in their suffering and in their efforts to
overcome it and live meaningfully again in the aftermath of loss.

Empathic Failure
The love of our neighbor in all its fullness
simply means being able to say to him,
“What are you going through?”
— Simone Weil

Robert Neimeyer and Jack Jordan have characterized disenfranchisement as

a form of “empathic failure” (Neimeyer & Jordan, 2002). Indisputably, disenfran-
chisement of grief is rooted in a failure to empathize with the bereaved, i.e., to
understand their suffering and hurt. It fails to appreciate either the gravity of what
has happened or the resulting anguish and loss of meaning in the mourner’s life. It
fails to appreciate what he or she is going through, and as such it is hurtful and
destructive.
But such a failure to empathize is not the same as a denial of the right to grieve.
The negative elements of active discouragement and sanction are missing.
However, empathic failure does make it less likely that the right will be acknowl-
edged or mourners supported as they exercise it. Empathic failure is, then, a
seedbed for disenfranchisement. But disenfranchisement fails more seriously.

Political Failure
All I maintain is that on this earth
there are pestilences and there are victims,
and it’s up to us, so far as possible,
not to join forces with the pestilences.
— Albert Camus

Disenfranchisement of grief involves political failure, including abuse of power

and neglect. Politics is essentially about the distribution and exercise of power in
relationships. Abuses of power often result from misuse of authority. Authority
as expertise derives from a differential in knowledge between persons. Abuse is
possible when some pretend to know or understand more than others when they
do not. Or when some who in fact know more believe erroneously that superior
knowledge in itself entails authority to choose for another, e.g., simply “because I
know and you do not” or, more paternalistically, “in your best interest.” Authority
as prerogative to choose sometimes derives from contractual arrangements with
professionals and appropriate deference to their expertise. Or it may derive from
recognized and legitimate assignment of positions of responsibility, e.g., within
governments, traditions, or families. Abuse is possible, then, when some pretend
to have such responsibility to choose for another when there is no foundation in
contract or agreement or in expertise or when no such authority has been granted.
202 / EDITORIAL

Disenfranchisement of grief is an abuse of authority as expertise when others

presume to know, but do not actually understand, a mourner’s suffering or efforts
to overcome it. Disenfranchisement is an abuse of authority to choose when
others presume to decide what is best for a mourner, to limit his or her options
in grieving, to control his or her expressions, or to sanction his or her efforts to
overcome suffering.
Disenfranchisement of grief is also a political failure insofar as the discour-
agement, interference, and sanction it brings into the lives of the bereaved
actually adds to their suffering unnecessarily. All persons will be bereaved in
their lifetimes, react in grief and hurt, and endure the hardships of struggling
to overcome suffering. This suffering and hardship cannot be eliminated from
life in the human condition. It is inevitable and unavoidable. But, in addition
to such unavoidable suffering, there is suffering that humans impose or visit
upon one another and on themselves, that can be eliminated, or at least mini-
mized. People are responsible for such suffering; they have it within their
power to avoid imposing it. Disenfranchisement imposes such unnecessary and
avoidable suffering: people can eliminate its devastating consequences. Disen-
franchisement is thus a form of neglect insofar as it is a failure to use this power
of restraint.
Individuals, families, and communities are primarily responsible for these
political failures of abuse of authority and neglect and for the additional hardship
and suffering they impose on the disenfranchised. But, as Jeffrey Kauffman
has pointed out (Kauffman, 2002), the oppression implicit in these political
failures cannot ultimately succeed in stifling grief without at least some small
measure of complicity on the part of the disenfranchised themselves. And, in
some cases, even in the absence of disenfranchisement by others, the bereaved
themselves may believe that they are not entitled to grieve, act on that belief,
experience similarly unnecessary additional suffering, and undermine their own
effectiveness in the efforts of grieving.
To illustrate these political failures of disenfranchisement, consider one
family’s experience of a mother’s funeral. Elsie had lived a long, full life. She
was devoted to her family, including her own beloved mother, many siblings,
her husband, and, especially, her two sons, Bill and John, and her grand-
children. And she was devoted to her Christian faith, the local church, and
the many friends she made there. After twelve years of one illness and
successful surgery after another, including cancer twice, a major heart attack,
and the insidious assaults of Alzheimer’s disease, Elsie died at 86. Her deep
commitments, fighting spirit, and ready smile through the last years of her
life touched many. All were grateful for her life and saddened when it came
to its welcomed end.
Elsie’s surviving siblings had made the funeral arrangements in advance of
Bill’s and John’s arrival in their hometown. The two of them went to visit the
minister a couple of days before the service was to take place. Bill wanted to
learn what he had planned and to have an opportunity for the two of them to
 DISENFRANCHISED GRIEF REVISITED / 203

tell him some of their life’s histories with their mother. The minister informed
them immediately that he would offer a service in conformity with “what we
do in this church.” He had no interest in hearing any of their stories or
perceptions of their own or others’ needs as mourners. When Bill began to
volunteer something of his life with his mother, the minister cut him off. And
he made it quite clear that, aside from enlisting the sons’ help in identifying
pall bearers, there would be no other opportunity for either of them, or anyone
else for that matter, to participate in the rituals and ceremonies that he had
planned. Bill’s immediate reading of the situation was that any efforts to press
the minister further would have been futile. And he felt as if speaking up
would risk alienating the clergyman and possibly overturn the arrangements
that, to the extent they understood them, had seemed perfectly fine to Bill’s
and John’s aunts and uncles. When they left the church Bill warned John that
they were not likely to have a very meaningful funeral experience.
The funeral itself barely focused on either the experiences of those who
were gathered there or Elsie’s life and its many meanings. It was as if none of
the experiences of the bereaved were of any significance whatever. Missing
Elsie and their sadness were discounted to the point where they were not even
mentioned. And any desire to remember anything of the fullness of Elsie’s life
or what she meant to any in attendance was dismissed in similar fashion.
Instead, they were told truthfully that Elsie was a woman of deep faith whose
faith had secured a place for her in heaven. They were instructed to celebrate
this ascendance. And they were told forcefully that they could join Elsie in
heaven only on the condition that their faith was identical to hers. There was
no other eulogy. No participation other than in the singing of two of Elsie’s
favorite hymns. No opportunity to share and explore the many memories and
legacies of her life. When the church service was over, everyone left quietly,
and some carried her casket to the hearse. They followed to the cemetery
where they buried her in a perfunctory and equally impersonal graveside
ceremony.
Fortunately, most members of the family were able to gather at an uncle’s
home after the burial. There Bill, John, and the others together lamented the
inadequacies of the service briefly. They connected meaningfully with one
another, sharing sadness over Elsie’s difficult last years and relief at their
coming to an untroubled end. And, best of all, they remembered her together,
told familiar and unfamiliar stories of days long ago and more recent history,
and explored some of the lasting legacies of Elsie’s life. All agreed that, were
it not for the predilections of the minister, all of these could have been
included in a far more meaningful service that would have satisfied not only
the family but also Elsie’s friends who did not follow to the cemetery and were
unable to join with the family later that afternoon.

The minister in this case disenfranchised the grieving of an entire family and of
the friends who gathered to mourn and remember Elsie. He presumed authority
as expertise when he knew precious little of either the needs or the desires of
those for whom he was offering the funeral “service.” He presumed authority to
choose how the ritual and ceremony would unfold by adhering to the most rigid
204 / ATTIG

of denominational protocols and ignoring the fact that most who came to the
funeral were not members of his church. His denomination allows far greater
latitude for inclusion of other elements in a funeral service. And he presumed
authority to confine his remarks to preaching when preaching was not the
exclusive or most important function of the occasion. Consequently, he dismissed
the experiences and needs of the bereaved, added unnecessarily to their distress,
rendered all spectators, denied mourners opportunities for meaningful partici-
pation in ritual, and imposed a message on his audience that few welcomed
and many thought entirely inappropriate. Bill, in turn, felt that he had been
complicit in the minister’s disenfranchising ways. He had sensed his rigidity
from the beginning, acquiesced in his assertions of authority, sensed that he
would disappoint most all in attendance, and even cautioned his brother not to
expect a meaningful service.

Ethical Failure
We live very close together.
So, our prime purpose in this life is to help others.
And if you can’t help them, at least don’t hurt them.
— The Dalai Lama

Disenfranchisement of grief is, moreover, an ethical failure inasmuch as it is a

failure to respect the bereaved. To understand this, consider first what respect
for persons, or for human dignity, requires. Respect requires understanding and
valuing a person’s potential for thriving or living meaningfully. Respect requires
understanding and appreciating a person’s vulnerability and potential for suffer-
ing. And respect requires acting respectfully in accord with these understandings.
Minimally, it requires acting in ways that avoid making things worse: 1) ways
that reinforce or enhance vulnerability or exacerbate suffering; or 2) ways that
hinder, undermine, interfere in, inhibit, or even block effectively contending with
suffering and hardship or returning to thriving. Optimally, it requires acting in
ways that contribute constructively: 1) ways that acknowledge, reflect genuine
concern about, and comfort in response to suffering and hurt; and 2) ways that
actively support thriving or a return to it.
Disenfranchisement of grief is profoundly disrespectful on all counts. Failure to
empathize with the hurt of the bereaved is but a part of this deeper and more
serious ethical failure to respect the bereaved. Neimeyer and Jordan (2002)
note only the need to empathize with the hurt and suffering of the disenfranchised.
They say nothing explicitly about the equally important need to understand and
appreciate the potential for thriving inherent in the bereaved. In failing to discuss
the denial of the right to grieve, the active discouragement, and the sanction
inherent in disenfranchisement, they miss the essentially ethical failure at its
heart. Neimeyer and Jordan miss the offenses of disrespectful action and omis-
sion inherent in disenfranchisement: 1) making things worse by compounding
 DISENFRANCHISED GRIEF REVISITED / 205

suffering; and 2) failing to respond constructively both to the suffering and in

support of a return to thriving.
The remainder of this article expands upon the seriousness of disenfranchise-
ment as an ethical failure first by examining how the literature on disenfran-
chisement emphasizes the failure to respect the suffering of the bereaved. And it
then urges that understanding of the scope of disenfranchisement be expanded to
explicitly acknowledge the failure to respect the overcoming of suffering, the
efforts of hope and love at the heart of grieving.

THE LIMITED FOCUS OF THE LITERATURE:

GROUNDED IN CONCEPTUAL FAILURE
It should be clear to anyone familiar with the substantial literature on disen-
franchised grief that its focus falls primarily upon failure to respect suffering. It
stresses both the failure to empathize with the suffering of the bereaved (empathic
failure) and the ethical failure of denial of the right to suffer or to cope with it
(though it never explicitly identifies such failure as an ethical one). These matters
are, of course, very important aspects of the disrespect that disenfranchisement
entails. But, as will be shown below, the focus of the literature can and should
be expanded.
As a check on this claim, readers are invited to peruse Doka’s two major
anthologies on disenfranchisement (Doka, 1989, 2002). The subtitle of the first
anthology, “Recognizing Hidden Sorrow,” is appropriate. None of the titles in
either anthology gives any indication that it centers on matters of hope, love,
or transcending sorrow or suffering. Neither index includes citations of treat-
ments of hope, love, or any equivalent of transcending suffering. Indeed, careful
review of the works cited in the individual articles—a far broader sampling
of writings on disenfranchisement—reveals scant reference to such topics and
nothing explicitly focused on how hope, love, and transcending suffering are
also disenfranchised.
The value of the extant literature on disenfranchisement is beyond dispute. It is
appropriate to note and honor the important contributions of the literature within
its limited focus. In the misunderstanding of loss and the suffering that it entails,
disenfranchisement fails to appreciate the extent of the loss of wholeness that
mourners experience: how their daily lives are devastated; how their life stories
are disrupted and veer off of their expected courses; and how meaningful and
sustaining connections in the worlds around them are threatened and undermined.
In turn, disenfranchisement fails to appreciate the extent and depth of the pain
and anguish that come with such loss of wholeness. This misunderstanding of
suffering actually compounds the loss and hurt that mourners endure. It induces
and reinforces feelings of helplessness, powerlessness, shame, and guilt And it
withholds support from, breaks connections with, isolates, and abandons the
bereaved in their sorrow.
206 / ATTIG

Beyond such misunderstanding, disenfranchisement, as failure to respect suf-

fering, interferes with and undermines mourners’ effectiveness in coming to
terms with suffering, hurt, and hardship. Through discouraging words and actions,
disenfranchisement inhibits expressions of pain and anguish. It undercuts moti-
vation to cope with loss and sorrow. It undermines effectiveness in contending
with new hardships and challenges, e.g., those deriving from so-called secondary
losses. And, it deprives mourners of comfort and support in efforts to come
to terms with the negative aspects of loss and grief and their continuing
vulnerability.
The literature on disenfranchisement is filled with discussion of what is clearly
the remedy for such disenfranchisement of suffering: respect for suffering via
affirmation of mourners’ entitlement to it. Essay after essay promotes under-
standing and appreciation of the suffering entailed by another range of over-
looked or underacknowledged loss experiences. The essays typically go on
to urge that, minimally, caregivers must refrain from making things worse
by disenfranchising in ways specific to the kinds of losses in question. They
urge that, optimally, caregivers should provide time, space, protection, and social
support when loss and grief reactions are experienced in full force. And they
should encourage and assist in effective coping with brokenness, grief reactions,
and extended hardship.
The power of the remedy of respect for suffering is made clear repeatedly.
Respectful response to the disenfranchised in their sorrow promotes under-
standing and empathy. It liberates mourners from discounting or dismissal of
the significance of their losses or of the extent and depth of their suffering,
discouragement of expressions of their hurt, oppressive interference in efforts
to come to terms with brokenness and anguish, isolation, and inappropriate social
sanction. Respect from others promotes mourners’ self-respect and self-esteem as
it welcomes and embraces them in caring community.
This limitation in the literature on disenfranchisement may derive from a
conceptual failure in the broader literature on grief in general that has only in
recent years been noticed and corrected. It is not easy to bear in mind the
distinction between bereavement and grief reactions on the one hand (things that
happen to us when another dies) and mourning or grieving response on the other
hand (things that we do in response to what happens to us). The literature on
grieving has long been dominated by stage/phase models of grieving (Bowlby,
1961; Engel, 1964a; Kübler-Ross, 1969; Lindemann, 1944; Parkes, 1970) or
medical models of grieving (Engel, 1964b; Lindemann, 1944; Parkes, 1972;
Rando, 1993; Raphael, 1983) that stress grief reaction and suffering and not
grieving response. Theories of grief work, or the efforts of grieving response
(Freud, 1917; Lindemann, 1944; Parkes & Weiss, 1983; Worden, 1982, 1991,
2002), have emphasized efforts to express sorrow, find closure, sever or moderate
ties with the deceased, recover from suffering, and return to normal. Only recently
 DISENFRANCHISED GRIEF REVISITED / 207

has the literature begun to treat explicitly the constructive, world-relearning,

meaning-affirming, relationship-sustaining character of the labors of grieving
(Attig, 1991, 1996, 2000; Klass, Silverman, & Nickman, 1996; Neimeyer,
1998, 2001).

EXPANDING THE FOCUS

When one door of happiness closes, another opens;
but often we look so long at the closed door
that we do not see the one which has been opened for us.
— Helen Keller

As the analysis of respect for persons above makes clear, respect for mourners
requires not only respect for their suffering. It also requires respect for their
continuing potential to thrive and live meaningfully in the aftermath of loss. And
this, in turn, requires respect for the inherent human drive to transcend suffering,
or resilience, that makes a return to thriving and meaningful living possible. In its
emphasis on respect for suffering, the literature on disenfranchised grief pays
little, if any, attention to the disenfranchisement of resilience (with hope at its core)
and the potential to live meaningfully again (with love at its heart). This despite the
fact that so much attention has also recently been devoted to the importance of
finding and making meaning in the aftermath of loss (Neimeyer, 2001).
Such disenfranchisement is very much as real as is the disenfranchisement
of suffering. And, as with the latter, it involves both: a) misunderstanding and
failure to appreciate what mourners are living through; and b) destructive inter-
ference in the efforts of grieving. Think of the disenfranchisement, including self-
disenfranchisement, that is reflected in expressions like these:
When things like this happen, all you can do is give it time, wait it out.
Eventually, you’ll get over this.
I don’t see how his life can be worthwhile again. He’s lost the only thing that
really mattered to him.
Somehow it feels disloyal to laugh or try to be happy. I sometimes feel that I
owe it to him to live in sorrow.
What can I possibly have to look forward to?
The best thing is to try to put what happened behind you and get back to
normal as soon as possible. Try to go on as if nothing has changed.
There’s no point in looking for meaning in something like this. Suffering
brings us face to face with absurdity. The best thing is to try to forget.
You shouldn’t be looking for anything positive in this. There can’t be any such
thing.
208 / ATTIG

Oh, that’s just a coincidence. You’re reading too much into what happened.

I’m kind of embarrassed to admit that in some ways I seem to have grown
from the death of my child.

Face reality. She is dead. You will have to fill her place with something else.
Everything she meant to you is undone.

If you’re going to grieve, you have to let go completely. It is all about the
heartache of goodbye. If you don’t let go, you are stuck in the past.

Remembering adds to your pain and prolongs suffering. Spending so

much time with memories can only bring you down. Let the past stay
in the past.

Don’t keep talking about her. You should be more focused on those who are
still here.

How can I ever let myself love again, if it all comes to this?

To illustrate, consider the story of a woman who approached the author

after he had spoken before a large audience about the possibility and desir-
ability of lasting love. She told him that she felt for the first time that
she had been given permission to grieve for her mother. Her sorrow had been
recognized and accepted. But she had been led to believe that grieving
requires complete “letting go” of the one who has died. Seeing no hope on
such a path, she had preferred to remain in deep sorrow rather than to
stop loving her mother. The next day she caught up with the author again in
the hallway and said she was not sure that she had made it clear that her
mother had died more then ten years before. Clearly, her hope and love
had been disenfranchised.

And consider another story of an Israeli woman who refused to allow her
hope and love to be disenfranchised. She spoke up in the question and answer
period after another talk in which the author had spoken favorably of the
possibility of love in separation. Her son had left home to live on a kibbutz on
the northern border of Israel some five years earlier only to be killed by a
mortar shell launched across that border a year before she heard me. In the
year since his death she had returned several times to the kibbutz to seek out
those who knew him. In exchange for stories she had to tell of her life with
him, she sought to learn more about his life from friends he had made in his
new life on the kibbutz. She was grateful to all who spoke with her, recorded
what she learned from them in a journal, enriched her own store of memories,
and came to know and love her son even more. Family and friends had tried to
discourage her efforts, thinking her activities to be morbid. But she would
have none of it. She asserted that she was neither dwelling in sorrow nor
giving her son any more time and attention than she had before he died nor
compromising the quality of her other relationships. She, too, felt that the talk
was the first to validate her hopeful and loving efforts.
 DISENFRANCHISED GRIEF REVISITED / 209

Grieving allows us to heal, to remember with love rather than pain.

It is a sorting process. One by one you let go of the things that are gone
and you mourn for them. One by one you take hold of the things
that have become a part of who you are and build again.
— Rachel Naomi Remen

In its misunderstanding of mourners’ resilience and continuing capacities for

thriving and meaningful living, disenfranchisement of grief fails to appreciate the
constructive aspects of grieving. Grieving is about both experiencing and react-
ing to loss and actively responding to it. Grieving is about both suffering and
resilience, experiencing the devastation and hurt and reaching through them to
affirm life. Constructively, grieving is about learning to carry the pain of missing
those who are mourned rather than being the pain, dwelling in and being totally
preoccupied and absorbed by it. Grieving is about discerning hopeful paths
through pain to saying “Yes” to life. Grieving is about “relearning the world”
(Attig, 1996); i.e., learning how to live meaningfully again within physical sur-
roundings, in social surroundings (including in a transformed relationship with the
deceased), in the greater scheme of things, and within the self. Grieving is about
reshaping daily life patterns, redirecting life narratives, and being true to the self in
ways that lead to living meaningfully again, and even personal growth, in a world
transformed by loss. The heart of grieving is making a transition from loving in
presence to loving in separation (Attig, 2000).
Disenfranchisement, as conceptual failure to understand the constructive
aspects of grieving, makes matters worse for the bereaved. It undermines their
self-understanding of their potential to overcome suffering and to relearn the
worlds of their experience in meaningful ways. It makes them doubt the legitimacy
of active and constructive response to loss. It discourages mourners’ opening
themselves to new possibilities and envisioning a return to thriving, including
lasting love. It deprives mourners of empathy for their longing to overcome
suffering, grow through their experiences, and live meaningfully again.
Beyond such misunderstanding, disenfranchisement as failure to respect the
potential to thrive and live meaningfully actively undermines efforts to reach
through suffering and affirm life Through discouraging words and actions
disenfranchisement inhibits mourners’ expression of desires to overcome suf-
fering. It undercuts hopeful motivation to find and make meaning and search
for lasting love. It undermines mourner effectiveness in doing the restorative
and reconstructive work of grieving. It deprives mourners of comfort and support
as they struggle to make themselves whole again. It invalidates, discourages,
hinders, even blocks hopeful striving for meaning, value, and love.
The remedy for such disenfranchisement of the potential to thrive and live
meaningfully is clear: respect for the potential via affirmation of mourners’
entitlement to realization of it and the resilience and love that make it possible.
Corresponding to the need to promote understanding of suffering, there is a great
need to promote understanding and appreciation of this potential and resilience
210 / ATTIG

inherent in every mourner, no matter how devastating his or her loss may be.
Minimally, caregivers must refrain from making things worse by disenfranchising
in the ways I have described. And, optimally, caregivers must provide time,
space, protection, and social support for efforts to discern hopeful paths beyond
suffering. They must encourage and constructively assist mourners in effectively
relearning the world and searching for lasting love, finding and making meaning.
The power of the remedy of respect for the potential to thrive again and the
resilience that can lead to it is clear. It promotes understanding and empathy for
mourners’ efforts to overcome their suffering. It liberates them from discounting
of their hopeful motivation to overcome, discouragement of their constructive
efforts, oppressive interference in their meaning-seeking and searching for lasting
love, isolation, and inappropriate social sanction. Respect from others promotes
mourners’ self-respect and self-confidence, and it affirms community solidarity
with their efforts to affirm meaning, value, and love.

ENFRANCHISING HOPE
What oxygen is to the lungs,
such is hope to the meaning of life.
— Emil Brunner

Soul Work
It is possible to discern two fundamental motivations or drives that can carry
the bereaved through the worst of grief. Some draw upon them more easily
than others. But it is constructive to believe that all can find them within them-
selves, often with the support of good caregivers. The first of these drives is
what may be called “soul.” It is as if one part of the mourner says,
Despite the worst that life can bring, it is worth being in this here and now.
Deep within me I feel this powerful impulse to connect, to care deeply and
even to cherish offerings, gifts, and blessings too precious to ignore. I feel this
pull to re-immerse myself in life, to make myself at home again, to reweave
the tattered web of my life. Though it is hard for me to see just now, I believe
that too much of the goodness of life can still be mine, and I will push through
the debris around me to reclaim and embrace enduring meanings.

This is one of the most fundamental affirmations of faith, hope, and love that
mourners are challenged to make in the midst of the agony of loss. It is at the
core of resilience.
The work of the soul in grieving is the effort of returning home to the familiar
(Attig, 2000). Yes, there is a pervasive sense of absence in the world as it is
experienced in bereavement. Things, places, activities, experiences, social settings
and interactions and mourners’ own cares and interests, character traits, dis-
positions, and aspirations often arouse pain as they remind mourners of those who
 DISENFRANCHISED GRIEF REVISITED / 211

have died. But they can reach through that pain and affirm life. They can do so, in
part, because those very same features of surroundings and aspects of self also
bring to mind precious memories and legacies of those who have died that have not
been lost. Mourners can hope to return home to contexts and ways of living that
remain viable, to embrace familiar meanings, to make themselves at home again,
including at home with reminders not only of absence but of abiding presence.
This meaning-finding is a central, albeit often overlooked and misunderstood,
aspect of the constructive work of grieving (Attig, 2001).

Spirit Work

What may be called “spirit” is the second of the two fundamental motivations
or drives that can carry the bereaved through the worst of grief. Again, some
draw upon it more easily than others. But it is constructive to believe that all
can find it within themselves, often with the support of good caregivers. It is as if
another part of the mourner says,

Despite the worst that life can bring, and the undoing of so much of the life I
have enjoyed, it is worth entering the unknown future. Deep within me I
feel this powerful impulse to say yes to what is yet to be and what I may
yet become. I refuse to accept what only appears to be defeat; I will rise
above it. Though the pain threatens to crush me, I will make the best of
inevitable and most unwelcome change, overcome adversity, stretch into
the new, make meaning out of chaos and triumph over it.

This is the second of the most fundamental affirmations of faith, hope, and
love that mourners are challenged to make in the midst of the agony of loss. It,
too, is at the core of resilience.
The work of the spirit in grieving is the effort of contending with the
unexpected, the unfamiliar (Attig, 2000). Yes, there is a pervasive sense of
challenge and uncertainty in the world transformed by loss, a feeling that there
are too many choices to make and too little motivation or direction for making
them. Mourners are daunted by challenges to give their daily lives inevitably
new shape and substance; rethink and redirect their life narratives; weave new
threads into the patterns of connection with their physical surroundings, others,
the one they mourn, and even a higher power; and recreate their very selves. And
meeting these challenges is painful and burdensome. But mourners can also
hope to reach through the pain of these struggles and stretch into inevitably new
contexts and ways of living that allow them to thrive again, find and make
new meanings, and once again experience joy and happiness. Often they can
draw inspiration from those they mourn as they revive their spirits in these
ways. Here they are more truly engaged in meaning-making in the aftermath
of loss, though it more often results from straightforward reengagement in life
than either deliberate planning or creative activity (Attig, 2001).
212 / ATTIG

Supporting Hope and Resilience

Optimal respect for the constructive efforts of grieving requires that caregivers
actively support those efforts. How can caregivers support hope and resilience if
they inhere and arise primarily from within the bereaved? There is much more to
say on this subject than this limited article allows. But these suggestions are a
beginning: Caregivers can express in word and deed a belief the mourner has
within her or him a drive to transcend suffering and the potential to find and make
meaning and thrive again. They can appeal to the resilience of mourners’ souls and
spirits. They can invite them to reflect on whether those they mourn would want
them to dwell in the depth of suffering or overcome it and return to thriving and
living meaningfully.
Caregivers can help mourners to see that what arouses pain—either reminders
of what they miss or of present hardships—often contain familiar and enduring
meanings and values or are ripe with possibility for making new meaning and
realizing new value. They can help them realize that they can carry the hurt of
missing those they love more easily when they redeem or embrace these meanings
and values.
Caregivers can help mourners to envision possibilities they would welcome and
to identify small steps they can take in constructive directions, including things
they can do or say, potentially satisfying experiences, or ways to reach out and
connect in the world around them. They can encourage them to open themselves
to the offerings of the moment, others, and grace, helping them to realize that
good can come from sources outside themselves. They can encourage mourners
to try, draw upon their strengths, and learn from mistakes. They can urge them
to seek inspiration in the stories of others’ efforts to transcend suffering. They
can be with mourners in their overcoming as active listeners, companions, and
midwives to their resilient souls and spirits.

ENFRANCHISING LASTING LOVE

All our affections, when clear and pure,
and not claims of possession, transport us to another world;
and the loss of contact, here or there, with those external beings
is merely like closing a book which we keep at hand for another occasion.
We know that book by heart. Its verses give life to life.
— George Santayana

Memory
Remembering is potentially one of the most powerfully constructive aspects
of grieving. The work of memory is to bring the past into present awareness. It
reconnects mourners with the lives of those they mourn. Remembering soon
after bereavement is often permeated with pain as memories remind them of the
 DISENFRANCHISED GRIEF REVISITED / 213

terrible loss of a precious flesh and blood presence. But they can reach through
the pain of missing to find what they have not lost of those they love. The legacies
of memory itself include moments, episodes, periods, and stories of their lives
filled with enduring meanings not cancelled by death, meanings that themselves
“give life to life.” Remembering connects mourners with some of the best of life.
It is itself an expression of their enduring love for those they mourn. And it
enables them still to feel the warmth of the deceased’s love for them.

Legacy

Anything good you’ve ever been given is yours forever.

— Rachel Naomi Remen

Remembering also enables mourners to identify other legacies of those they

mourn. As mourners return to the worlds they have left behind, they can reach
through the pain of the experience of absence and realize what they still have—
the physical, practical, soulful, and spiritual legacies of the deceased. They may
have given the bereaved possessions or material wealth, other members of their
families, or physical features and genetic inheritances. Their souls and spirits have
indelibly touched things, places, other people, families and communities, and
other aspects of mourners’ surroundings. And they have influenced mourners’
ways of doing things, interests in activities or experiences, cares and ways of
loving, and ways of striving to better themselves and to overcome adversity,
searching for meaning, and seeking adventure and joy in life. Mourners feel loved
by the deceased when they recognize how their legacies continue giving to them.
Mourners express their lasting love for the deceased when they embrace and
cherish such legacies.

Supporting the Search for Lasting Love

How can caregivers support mourners in their search for lasting love? There
is much more to say on this subject than this limited article allows (Attig, 2000).
But these suggestions are a beginning: Caregivers can express in word and deed a
belief that mourners can make the all-important transition from loving in presence
to loving in separation. They can affirm the validity of their desire to find lasting
love and the life-affirming value of doing so. They can help them to see that though
reminders of absence are always possible, they can also open their hearts and give
those they mourn a different presence in their lives by keeping memory alive and
cherishing enduring legacies.
Caregivers can invite mourners to remember and take genuine interest in the
stories they have to tell. They can encourage them to share memories with
others, consider ways of preserving memories concretely (e.g., in writing or on
tape), reflect upon and cherish the enduring meanings they contain. They can
encourage mourners to identify and embrace the physical legacies and the
214 / ATTIG

legacies of practical influence, soul, and spirit they still hold in ways that enable
them to feel the abiding love of those they mourn and to express their own
abiding love for them in return.

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Thomas Attig, Ph.D.
2948 Quail Hollow Drive
Fairfield, CA 94533
e-mail: tattigca@earthlink.net