essay on love and loss

I Measure Every Grief I Meet: Emily Dickinson on Love and Loss

By maria popova.

Because the price of living wholeheartedly (which is the only way worth living) is the heartbreak of many losses — the loss of love to dissolution, distance, or death; the loss of the body to gravity and time — and because loss leaves in its wake an experience so private yet so universal, the common record of human experience that we call literature is replete with reflections on grief: from Seneca’s 2,000-year-old letter to his mother about the key to resilience in the face of loss to Lincoln’s spare and melancholy consolation to Meghan O’Rourke’s memoir of mourning to Nick Cave’s soulful meditation on the paradox of bereavement . And yet, as Joan Didion wrote in her crowning classic on the subject , “grief turns out to be a place none of us know until we reach it.”

No writer, in my reading life, has charted the fractal reaches of grief with more nuance and precision than Emily Dickinson (December 10, 1830–May 15, 1886) — the poet laureate of love and loss, of the interplay between the two, the interplay between the beauty and terror of being alive as we drift daily toward “the drift called ‘the infinite.'”

In her 561st poem, included in her indispensable Complete Poems of Emily Dickinson ( public library ), Dickinson considers grief as an experience both profoundly intimate and profoundly universal. She composed it in 1862, as a tidal wave of grief was sweeping her war-torn country and as Dickinson herself was wading through the deepest, most mysterious mourning of her life, the shadow of some unnamed “terror” of the heart she underwent the previous year — a mystery that still puzzles scholars and one that animates a sizable portion of Figuring . The poem gives voice to the continual syncopation between these two scales of being, both absolute and relativistic, as we burrow in the hollow of our private losses and pass each other in the public square of human suffering:

I measure every Grief I meet With narrow, probing, Eyes — I wonder if It weighs like Mine — Or has an Easier size. I wonder if They bore it long — Or did it just begin — I could not tell the Date of Mine — It feels so old a pain — I wonder if it hurts to live — And if They have to try — And whether — could They choose between — It would not be — to die — I note that Some — gone patient long — At length, renew their smile — An imitation of a Light That has so little Oil — I wonder if when Years have piled — Some Thousands — on the Harm — That hurt them early — such a lapse Could give them any Balm — Or would they go on aching still Through Centuries of Nerve — Enlightened to a larger Pain – In Contrast with the Love — The Grieved — are many — I am told — There is the various Cause — Death — is but one — and comes but once — And only nails the eyes — There’s Grief of Want — and Grief of Cold — A sort they call “Despair” — There’s Banishment from native Eyes — In sight of Native Air — And though I may not guess the kind — Correctly — yet to me A piercing Comfort it affords In passing Calvary — To note the fashions — of the Cross — And how they’re mostly worn — Still fascinated to presume That Some — are like My Own —

In her 793rd poem, composed sometime the following year, Dickinson revisits the multifaceted nature of grief with a personified taxonomy — grief, the skittish mouse; grief, the surreptitious thief; grief, the juggler of fragilities; grief, the self-indulgent reveler; grief, the grand silence:

Grief is a Mouse — And chooses Wainscot in the Breast For His Shy House — And baffles quest — Grief is a Thief — quick startled — Pricks His Ear — report to hear Of that Vast Dark — That swept His Being — back — Grief is a Juggler — boldest at the Play — Lest if He flinch — the eye that way Pounce on His Bruises — One — say — or Three — Grief is a Gourmand — spare His luxury — Best Grief is Tongueless — before He’ll tell — Burn Him in the Public Square — His Ashes — will Possibly — if they refuse — How then know — Since a Rack couldn’t coax a syllable — now.

In another poem written in 1862 — Dickinson’s most creatively fertile year, in which she processed her unnamed “terror” through her art, as all artists do — she dilates the contracted consciousness of mourning into a perspectival reminder that there is an other side to even the deepest pain; that everything, even the most all-suffusing emotion, passes and is overgrown with new experience; that the ache of loss is the twin face of love, each an equal and inseparable part of aliveness:

‘Tis good — the looking back on Grief — To re-endure a Day — We thought the Mighty Funeral — Of All Conceived Joy — To recollect how Busy Grass Did meddle — one by one — Till all the Grief with Summer — waved And none could see the stone. And though the Woe you have Today Be larger — As the Sea Exceeds its Unremembered Drop — They’re Water — equally —

Complement with Elizabeth Gilbert on love, loss, and how to move through grief as grief moves through you and a tender animated field guide to the counterintuitive psychology of how to best support a grieving friend , then revisit Dickinson’s stunning ode to resilience and the electric love letters in which she honed her dual capacity for love and loss.

— Published May 28, 2021 — https://www.themarginalian.org/2021/05/28/emily-dickinson-grief/ —

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Sheryl Sandberg’s essay on grief is one of the best things I’ve read about marriage

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When my closest friend got married a few years ago, I asked her if anything felt different after the ceremony. "Yes," she said. "Realizing that my best-case scenario is now that I die first." Her tone was flip, and we both laughed. But there was truth to what she said.

I love my husband so much that I hesitate to write about him — it feels unseemly, like bragging. It is impossibly painful to even imagine life without him: his presence is the source of my greatest joy in life, just as the idea of losing him is one of my worst fears. The best-case scenario is that I die first.

Sheryl Sandberg lost her beloved husband, Dave Goldberg, 30 days ago. To mark that occasion, she has written one of the best essays I have ever read about what it feels like to confront that terrible fear, and to deal with the profound grief that comes from losing someone you love. Her description of her grief since Goldberg's death feels true not just as a statement of what it is like to lose someone you love, but also what it means to deeply love someone, and the value that our loved ones hold in our lives.

A childhood friend of mine who is now a rabbi recently told me that the most powerful one-line prayer he has ever read is: "Let me not die while I am still alive." I would have never understood that prayer before losing Dave . Now I do. I think when tragedy occurs, it presents a choice. You can give in to the void, the emptiness that fills your heart, your lungs, constricts your ability to think or even breathe. Or you can try to find meaning. These past thirty days, I have spent many of my moments lost in that void. And I know that many future moments will be consumed by the vast emptiness as well. But when I can, I want to choose life and meaning.

Strangely enough, the perfect companion piece to Sandberg's essay is not about loss, but about the joy of having children. Michelle Goldberg (no relation to Dave Goldberg) wrote in New York Magazine last week about what inspired her and her husband to grow their family.

"Not long ago," she writes , "I learned the Arabic word Ya'aburnee . Literally, 'you bury me,' it means wanting to die before a loved one so as not to have to face the world without him or her in it."

Goldberg realized that those words captured her feelings for her husband, and that having a child would be a way to bring more of him into the world — and a way to hold on to part of him if someday she lost him.

Goldberg and her husband now have two children, and they have enriched her life, she writes, in ways she would never have believed possible. "Before there was one person in the world for whom I would use the word Ya'aburnee , and now there are three."

Reading Sandberg's essay with Goldberg's is a reminder that the pain of loss is a worthwhile price to pay for the joy of love and marriage. Although Sandberg's husband has died, the life they built together still remains. Her essay closes with a moving promise to support what they built, and the children they had together, even as she mourns him:

I can’t even express the gratitude I feel to my family and friends who have done so much and reassured me that they will continue to be there. In the brutal moments when I am overtaken by the void, when the months and years stretch out in front of me endless and empty, only their faces pull me out of the isolation and fear. My appreciation for them knows no bounds. I was talking to one of these friends about a father-child activity that Dave is not here to do. We came up with a plan to fill in for Dave. I cried to him, "But I want Dave. I want option A." He put his arm around me and said, "Option A is not available. So let’s just kick the shit out of option B." Dave, to honor your memory and raise your children as they deserve to be raised, I promise to do all I can to kick the shit out of option B. And even though sheloshim has ended, I still mourn for option A. I will always mourn for option A. As Bono sang, "There is no end to grief . . . and there is no end to love." I love you, Dave.

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Essays About Losing a Loved One: Top 5 Examples

Writing essays about losing a loved one can be challenging; discover our helpful guide with essay examples and writing prompts to help you begin writing. 

One of the most basic facts of life is that it is unpredictable. Nothing on this earth is permanent, and any one of us can pass away in the blink of an eye. But unfortunately, they leave behind many family members and friends who will miss them very much whenever someone dies.

The most devastating news can ruin our best days, affecting us negatively for the next few months and years. When we lose a loved one, we also lose a part of ourselves. Even if the loss can make you feel hopeless at times, finding ways to cope healthily, distract yourself, and move on while still honoring and remembering the deceased is essential.

5 Top Essay Examples

1. losing a loved one by louis barker, 2. personal reflections on coping and loss by adrian furnham , 3. losing my mom helped me become a better parent by trish mann, 4. reflection – dealing with grief and loss by joe joyce.

• 5. ​​Will We Always Hurt on The Anniversary of Losing a Loved One? by Anne Peterson

1. Is Resilience Glorified in Society?

2. how to cope with a loss, 3. reflection on losing a loved one, 4. the stages of grief, 5. the circle of life, 6. how different cultures commemorate losing a loved one.

“I managed to keep my cool until I realized why I was seeing these familiar faces. Once the service started I managed to keep my emotions in tack until I saw my grandmother break down. I could not even look up at her because I thought about how I would feel in the same situation. Your life can change drastically at any moment. Do not take life or the people that you love for granted, you are only here once.”

Barker reflects on how he found out his uncle had passed away. The writer describes the events leading up to the discovery, contrasting the relaxed, cheerful mood and setting that enveloped the house with the feelings of shock, dread, and devastation that he and his family felt once they heard. He also recalls his family members’ different emotions and mannerisms at the memorial service and funeral. 

“Most people like to believe that they live in a just, orderly and stable world where good wins out in the end. But what if things really are random? Counselors and therapists talk about the grief process and grief stages. Given that nearly all of us have experienced major loss and observed it in others, might one expect that people would be relatively sophisticated in helping the grieving?”

Furnham, a psychologist, discusses the stages of grief and proposes six different responses to finding out about one’s loss or suffering: avoidance, brief encounters, miracle cures, real listeners, practical help, and “giving no quarter.” He discusses this in the context of his wife’s breast cancer diagnosis, after which many people displayed these responses. Finally, Furnham mentions the irony that although we have all experienced and observed losing a loved one, no one can help others grieve perfectly.

“When I look in the mirror, I see my mom looking back at me from coffee-colored eyes under the oh-so-familiar crease of her eyelid. She is still here in me. Death does not take what we do not relinquish. I have no doubt she is sitting beside me when I am at my lowest telling me, ‘You can do this. You got this. I believe in you.’”

In Mann’s essay, she tries to see the bright side of her loss; despite the anguish she experienced due to her mother’s passing. Expectedly, she was incredibly depressed and had difficulty accepting that her mom was gone. But, on the other hand, she began to channel her mom into parenting her children, evoking the happy memories they once shared. She is also amused to see the parallels between her and her kids with her and her mother growing up. 

“Now I understood that these feelings must be allowed expression for as long as a person needs. I realized that the “don’t cry” I had spoken on many occasions in the past was not of much help to grieving persons, and that when I had used those words I had been expressing more my own discomfort with feelings of grief and loss than paying attention to the need of mourners to express them.”

Joyce, a priest, writes about the time he witnessed the passing of his cousin on his deathbed. Having experienced this loss right as it happened, he was understandably shaken and realized that all his preachings of “don’t cry” were unrealistic. He compares this instance to a funeral he attended in Pakistan, recalling the importance of letting grief take its course while not allowing it to consume you. 

5. ​​ Will We Always Hurt on The Anniversary of Losing a Loved One? by Anne Peterson

“Death. It’s certain. And we can’t do anything about that. In fact, we are not in control of many of the difficult circumstances of our lives, but we are responsible for how we respond to them. And I choose to honor their memory.”

Peterson discusses how she feels when she has to commemorate the anniversary of losing a loved one. She recalls the tragic deaths of her sister, two brothers, and granddaughter and describes her guilt and anger. Finally, she prays to God, asking him to help her; because of a combination of prayer and self-reflection, she can look back on these times with peace and hope that they will reunite one day. 

6 Thought-Provoking Writing Prompts on Essays About Losing A Loved One

Society tends to praise those who show resilience and strength, especially in times of struggle, such as losing a loved one. However, praising a person’s resilience can prevent them from feeling the pain of loss and grief. This essay explores how glorifying resilience can prevent a person from healing from painful events. Be sure to include examples of this issue in society and your own experiences, if applicable.

Loss is always tricky, especially involving someone close to your heart. Reflect on your personal experiences and how you overcame your grief for an effective essay. Create an essay to guide readers on how to cope with loss. If you can’t pull ideas from your own experiences, research and read other people’s experiences with overcoming loss in life.

If you have experienced losing a loved one, use this essay to describe how it made you feel. Discuss how you reacted to this loss and how it has impacted who you are today. Writing an essay like this may be sensitive for many. If you don’t feel comfortable with this topic, you can write about and analyze the loss of a loved one in a book, movie, or TV show you have seen. 

When we lose a loved one, grief is expected. There are five stages of grief: denial, anger, bargaining, depression, and acceptance. Discuss each one and how they all connect. You can write a compelling essay by including examples of how the different stages are manifested in books, television, and maybe even your own experiences. 

Death is often regarded as a part of a so-called “circle of life,” most famously shown through the film, The Lion King . In summary, it explains that life goes on and always ends with death. For an intriguing essay topic, reflect on this phrase and discuss what it means to you in the context of losing a loved one. For example, perhaps keeping this in mind can help you cope with the loss. 

Different cultures have different traditions, affected by geography, religion, and history. Funerals are no exception to this; in your essay, research how different cultures honor their deceased and compare and contrast them. No matter how different they may seem, try finding one or two similarities between your chosen traditions. 

If you’d like to learn more, our writer explains how to write an argumentative essay in this guide.For help picking your next essay topic, check out our 20 engaging essay topics about family .

Martin is an avid writer specializing in editing and proofreading. He also enjoys literary analysis and writing about food and travel.

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Love, Loss, and Everything In Between: A Reading List

Jessie stephens recommends nora ephron, elena ferrante, olivia laing, and more.

Something sharp twisted inside my chest—I can point to the exact spot—and whatever air had been sitting in my lungs was suddenly expelled. I recall pain, but I also recall the accompanying sickness, how my stomach churned and my appetite disappeared. I was 15, and the thought crossed my mind as it does so many: “Ah. This is why they call it heartbreak.” 

My boyfriend at the time, a boy who didn’t say much but smelled nice, had decided two things at once. The first was that I would not be his girlfriend anymore. I wish he had told me that before he announced the second thing—which was that he now had a new girlfriend, a friend I’d introduced him to a few days before.

I didn’t know then I would end up writing a book, 15 or so years later, all about this feeling. My debut book Heartsick unpacks the destruction of love by following the true stories of three lives altered by a major heartbreak. It is about love and loss and what happens in between, and puts words around a feeling I once barely understood.

While heartbreak is the stuff of most pop songs and too many films to count, there are few mediums that can adequately capture the experience of romantic rejection. It is a form of grief we oftentimes do not take seriously enough, expecting friends, or indeed ourselves, to heal within a few weeks and get on with it.

That is why books hold the ultimate healing power. They tell us stories we recognize, putting words around feelings we do not yet fully understand. It is within the pages of books I have felt my most understood, like a person who belongs to something much larger.

Alain de Botton , Essays in Love ( Pan MacMillan )

A novel about a man and a woman slowly falling in love, Essays in Love charts the ascent and eventual descent of a relationship in astonishing detail. While the story is fictional, our narrator is full of observation and insight, elucidating a wealth of truths about love and what happens when it falls apart. The greatest strength of this book is in the details—tiny things you likely believe only you’ve done or felt. Gripping, funny and warm, de Botton offers his own philosophical sensibility to the stories we tell about love and heartbreak.

Dolly Alderton,  Ghosts (Knopf Publishing Group)

If you’ve ever experienced the pain of being ghosted by someone you’re falling for, Ghosts will be incredibly cathartic. Nina Dean is in her early thirties, with a thriving career and strong friendships. She meets Max and, as their relationship deepens, she lets herself believe that he might be The One. Alderton’s novel is all about trying to grieve a person who disappeared, without sending so much as a text message. It explores how we date now, and what the cost might be of framing our romantic relationships as disposable.

bell hooks,  All About Love (William Morrow & Company)

This is a book that will change the way you think. After several arguments with ex-boyfriends about the definition of love, which were inevitably informed by gendered stereotypes, hooks decided to write the book she wished they would read. All About Love interrogates everything we think we know about love, and challenges the idea that romantic love is the most important love of all.  She interrogates how heterosexual relationships operate, and explores why so many women are left feeling unsatisfied.

Andre Aciman,  Call Me by Your Name (Picador USA)

A coming-of-age novel that explores a romantic relationship between 17-year-old Elio and 24-year-old Oliver, this book is a stunning love story. Called a “heartrending elegy to human passion,” Aciman’s book captures the intensity of young love, and how it can shape a lifetime. It is not only the relationship here that is so moving, but also the aftermath, and Aciman writes so astutely about the feeling of knowing you will never, ever be the same.

David Levithan, The Lover’s Dictionary (Picador USA)

An incredibly creative modern love story, Levithan provides a portrait of a couple navigating the tribulations of a monogamous relationship. The story itself is structured around dictionary entries, with each word being the springboard for an event or thought. We are given intimate insight into the struggles both parties face, and how quickly infatuation fades, making way for resentment and restlessness.

Nora Ephron, Heartburn (Vintage Books)

A seminal text when it comes to the subject of heartbreak, Heartburn provides a vivid play-by-play of the breakdown of a marriage. Based on true events, the narrator (Rachel) discovers her husband has had an affair, and is caught between wanting to win him back, and knowing she ought to move on with her life. Funny and sharp, Ephron captures the pain and chaos of nursing a broken heart.

Elena Ferrante, The Days of Abandonment (Europa Editions)

An Italian novel about a woman who is left by her husband of fifteen years, The Days of Abandonment is about the internal crisis that often follows the end of a relationship. The protagonist, Olga, has a breakdown, unable to believe what has happened to her. But with two children, she learns she must go on, and that love can be found in the most unlikely of places.

Maggie O’Farrell, After You’d Gone (Blackstone Publishing)

A novel about grief and love, After You’d Gone centers on a woman named Alice following a suicide attempt. Alice grapples with what to do with all the love we have for someone who is no longer there. A moving story that speaks to immense pain and suffering, we are reminded that there is hope to be found in even the darkest of moments.

Olivia Laing, The Lonely City (Picador USA)

This memoir is about what it means to be alone. Laing was abruptly left by a partner, and she is thrust into the depths of loneliness while living in New York City. She looks at the causes of loneliness and how it might be resisted. The book puts a spotlight on eight artists, from Andy Warhol to Edward Hooper, and looks at how loneliness defined their work.

Jonathan Tropper, This Is Where I Leave You (Dutton Books)

Funny, emotional and insightful, Tropper’s novel is about a man named Judd Foxman who has recently lost his father. When he reunites with his family to mark the loss, there is another clear absence, his wife Jen. The family sits shiva, which means they must spend seven days together following the burial. Full of sharp observations, This is Where I Leave You delves into the male psyche, and the toll heartbreak takes.

__________________________________

Heartsick by Jessie Stephens is available via Henry Holt and Company.

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Home — Essay Samples — Literature — The Book Thief — The Book Thief: An Analysis of Love and Loss

The Book Thief: an Analysis of Love and Loss

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Published: Mar 16, 2024

Words: 511 | Page: 1 | 3 min read

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Narrative perspective, language and themes, empathy and resilience, formal innovation.

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Loved and Lost: grief in the time of coronavirus – a photo essay

Photographer Simon Bray’s project Loved and Lost deals with the loss of loved ones. He asked each participant to find a photograph of themselves with their lost loved one, and they returned to the location to replicate the image. The project aims to provide a platform, allowing others to acknowledge their loss, and to celebrate the person they love

D eath has a stigma and the burden of grief can hold us captive if we let it. May this be a process through which a loved one can be remembered and through which memories can be relived. Even though the pain of the loss may remain, may this go some way in relieving the hurt and the stigma of death and act as a public declaration that death has lost its sting.

I ask each participant to find a photograph of themselves with their lost loved one. We then return to the location of the original photograph to replicate the image.

It is a chance to think back and remember, to tell the story of that day and of the person that they have lost. Imagery allows for expression beyond what we can speak of. I hope it is an experience that contributes to the restorative process in overcoming the painful impact of loss.

The serene view north from Anglesey, out over the Irish Sea towards the Isle of Man

We all have a different experience of loss that can reveal itself in many ways. Sometimes it’s a response that is quite clear for those around you to see. Perhaps there are lots of emotions that they just don’t know how to let out, they’re not sure how they should be feeling or whether it’s right to be having certain angry or complicated thoughts.

It’s not about having the best photo, saying the right thing or having the answers, I just want to give people a chance to speak about their experience of loss .

My aim was that the combination of the photos we took and the conversations we had, we would be able to portray a deep personal story. This allows other people who are struggling and going through similar experiences to look through and find strength and comfort in the story, knowing that other people have been through it and are confident enough to share their story.

I lost my father to prostate cancer in December 2009. When my dad died, it wounded me in the deepest part of my being. The loss shaped the following few years of my life and will continue to do so, but I don’t have to let it define who I am. Through this time, it was really helpful to be able to talk about my dad. I wanted to share with others about the person he was, the emotions I was feeling as I processed the grief, and talk about the influence he had – and continues to have – on my life. Those conversations were often hard and few and far between, mainly because people just didn’t quite know how to respond.

Alistair’s dad holds his son’s hand while paddling in the sea at Swanage on a family holiday. Right: Alistair returns to Swanage to restage the original photograph after losing his father to Covid-19

I’m Alistair, and my dad was James. The original picture was from the beach at Swanage in Dorset. I’m not sure how old I was there, but it was a family holiday. We loved to go down there and find a pitch for the day, Mum and Dad would soak up the sun and me and Tim, my brother, would build sandcastles and splash around, and repeat until we had to go home.

He was a very loving father, he provided for his family, looked after us. He taught me a lot of principles about always doing the best, always trying to be the nicest person and to make sure that others were looked after and cared for. When you look back you realise you’ve been prepared by your parents to live your life. Dad always just wanted to treat others how he’d want to be treated.

Taken on a family holiday in Swanage, Alistair (right), sits on a bench by the beach with his father and brother Tim

When we got the dementia diagnosis, several years ago, we had noticed over time that he was getting more forgetful. He wouldn’t use my name, he was losing his hearing, his vision wasn’t great and I lost him as a dad over those years. I still loved him as my dad, but I knew I wasn’t necessarily going to get that reciprocated, which was tough. He still offered to help when I mentioned to him about moving flat; he’d say “well let me know if you need a hand”. I think that’s just his character through and through and I always just try to emulate that.

I went to see him in the care home and I said to the staff that I’d like to volunteer in the garden if possible, even if he wasn’t aware of me being there, I could just help out and spend some time with him, but then we went into lockdown and that was the last time I saw him when he was awake and alert.

When the Covid thing came along, it was like losing him for a second time, but this time, obviously, for the last time. It was difficult because I had kind of processed losing him in a mental sense, and now I was losing him in a physical sense.

I did get to see him before he passed away and it was just a completely different experience because I had to wear all the PPE. In the past, I’d just always assumed he’d be there for years to come and you don’t think about it ever being the last time, whereas I went there, got dressed up and they said you’ve got 15 minutes. It was horrible having this countdown clock, where you have this time limit on how long you have left with someone. I just set it on my watch and it’s just counting down. I was thinking, I’ve got 30 seconds left with my dad, 20 seconds left, 10 seconds left. What do I do? What do I say? And I just panicked.

Alistair takes a selfie with his dad in South Wonston park, near to where they lived. One of the benches in the park is dedicated to Alistair’s brother Tim, and will soon also have a plaque for his dad

It made me reflect on how many times I’ve seen or called my parents and thought that maybe I’m quite busy and I haven’t really got time for this, but I’ll see them next week. I’ve gone away thinking that it’s OK that I didn’t see them for very long today because I’ll see them in the future.

It’s given me a real appreciation for just taking a second to appreciate that when you’re with family or a friend, that you don’t know necessarily when you might see them again and that’s why you have to make the most of the time you have with them. I’m trying to act on it in a positive way, rather than just thinking about why I feel that way because of Dad.

Posing for a portrait, Alistair remembers his dad

It’s absolutely OK to cry and be a blubbering mess sometimes. If you try to stop it, you’ll feel a lot worse. I know that particularly for men there’s this societal pressure to be a strong support and a rock for people, but for your own sake, for men and women, to let your body do what it needs to do. You want to cry because your brain is telling you that you need to process this, to not fight it but to let it happen, then you’ll feel that pressure is unloaded.

Jonathan and his father on Christmas Eve 2019 with his new pair of Air Max

My name is Jonathan. The picture of myself and dad was taken on Christmas Eve 2019. We’d had Christmas together for the previous 54 years and it was a tradition we never broke. It was a fabulous event, we went out for a meal and then came back and exchanged gifts here.

My dad was 88 and he was getting old, things were failing. As a son it’s really upsetting when parents get older. I would do anything to try and make his life easier. I saw that he was walking badly and he said that the flesh on his feet was getting thinner and thinner and it was painful to walk. He’d never been into a Nike store, but he hobbled in, and then pretty soon we were having him trying on lots of pairs and we fitted him up with a pair of Nike Air Max. He was virtually running around the store, which was really lovely, really heartening. I felt as though I’d knocked off 10 or 15 years!

Jonathan took his dad to the Nike store to buy these Air Max trainers, which dramatically improved his mobility for the last few months of his life

He was so busy, I couldn’t keep up with him. I’m half his age, but he was out every night of the week. He would attend choirs, he was in the Greater Manchester Police Choir, the church choir, he was in Probus. I just don’t think he liked being at home.

He was the person I’d known longest in my life, he was always there. He was a bit like Switzerland, he never really offered a view, but he was always there to support me and catch me if I fell or tripped. It’s three months since he died and I’ve spent the last three months going to call him every day. So it’s been difficult.

He was the 12th coronavirus victim in the UK, so it was right at the very start. The health service and society as a whole didn’t know what to do. They didn’t know how to process and deal with the virus at that stage. So that was really difficult, because we couldn’t go to see him. We were only allowed to see him at the very end with lots of protective equipment, but if he hadn’t have had the coronavirus he probably would have been here today, because they would have treated his underlying health issues. It’s really, really difficult.

The quiet kitchen. Jonathan’s dad died on 13th March, well before lockdown was introduced

He died on Friday 13th, which I just couldn’t believe. The last time I saw him, we’d had a chat and I’d said what a cool dad he was, that he’d done a really good job, and he said, “No, I don’t think I was that good”, which I thought was really sweet. I said goodbye to him and went into the anteroom, where I had to take off all the protective equipment. I was halfway through taking it off and he called me back, but I couldn’t go back because the room had a positive air pressure, so I’ll never know what he wanted me for. That went with him to the grave.

It sounds really strange, but it’ll be very odd when the pandemic ends, because it has felt like a very intimate time, in that we went into shutdown and I could think about my dad’s experience, but it was like a shared experience with the whole of the world. I dread to think of other families going through the same thing that we went through. When someone dies of cancer or a heart attack, it’s dreadful, but that’s the moment. Whereas my dad died on the 13 March and from that point on, coronavirus has been on the news every minute of every hour of every day. It was like someone sticking a knife into the wound all the time, there was no escaping from it. As a family we felt properly battered.

Jonathan reflects on losing someone amid a global pandemic. Seeing it on the news every day has felt like, ‘someone sticking a knife into the wound’

Normally if you suffer a bereavement you have the support of family and friends, and we couldn’t go and see anyone. We were in lockdown before the country, in our own lockdown, so it’s been a very lonely time. Every step along the way was difficult, it felt as though we were unfortunate pioneers. The first funeral director that we went to wouldn’t deal with us. It’s been unusual.

At his funeral, we only had 10 people there and I liked it because it was nice and quiet. I’d discovered tapes of him singing so we actually played him singing a song on the way out and it made the hairs on the back of my neck stand up. That was really magical.

Philip stands with his parents on a summer evening on the balcony of his caravan, located on the north coast of Anglesey. Second image: Philip returns to the caravan to restage the photograph after losing both of his parents within 48 hours to Covid-19

My name is Philip and the photograph is of me and my parents. We bought this caravan in 2016, and they were very much part of our lives, so they would come for a weekend. We are in the very north of Anglesey. If you think of the island as a clock, then we’re at 1 o’clock, overlooking the most northerly lighthouse, Point Lynas.

My dad was a travelling salesman for James Stewart and Co in Ardwick, opposite Manchester Apollo. His turf was Moss Side. He used to sell from a catalogue going door to door and he was well known in the area. He did that for 30-odd years.

The view back up to the caravan park from the coast. Being only a small site, the caravan park is close-knit community

My mum brought us up, two boys who liked to fight and liked to be boys. She was also the bursar at the Ryleys school in Alderley Edge, and was very into amateur dramatics, so was part of the Wilmslow Green Room Society. She was in a lot of plays, then did a lot of backstage and in her older years did a lot of wardrobe, so there’s a team of six that meet every Tuesday to talk and sort the wardrobes out.

Mum had coughs, she definitely had Covid.She was fit and healthy, walking a mile a day, in the drama group. Dad was playing golf and doing the garden, but he died of a broken heart, basically. Even though he did test positive, he never had a cough or any real symptoms. I lost both parents in 48 hours. My family is my world, so the only reassurance is that we were telling them to stay in, eat and have the paracetamol and do what the doctor says, that they’d get through it and to be strong.

My brother still lived with my parents and had to give CPR to both of them. They were in lockdown, so even after both parents dying, Peter had to stay in the house for another five days and we weren’t allowed to visit. It’s all that stuff that you don’t hear about and have no idea what people are going through. To this day, he has not had any symptoms. He’s never been tested, nobody approached him, but he’s never had a day of illness.

We were only allowed 10 people at the funeral when we could have had 200. We printed 100 orders of service and posted them out to different people, just so there was something for them to share on the day. We did a video, so we can share that with people, but obviously nobody got the funeral that they wanted.

For the first three weeks after my parents died, I became a bit of a counsellor. People would ring me up and I’d have to explain everything and say well, we have to look for the silver lining in it all, we have to find something every day that helps and is a positive. We’ve done that, we have managed to find that glimmer, even little quirky things, memories of them, thoughts of them.

I suppose the only comfort is that there isn’t an answer. There isn’t something that we could or should have done to make the result anything different than what it was, because nobody had that knowledge. Everybody was scared and there are still friends of my mum and dad that haven’t gone out.

We summed it up quite nicely in that if somebody else came into the room, that person became the most important person. So it was never about them, they were the host and hostess. Drop everything, someone’s come in, what can I do for you, get you a drink, something to eat, oven on, and we’ll look after you, tell us what’s going on in your life, is there something we can help with?

Philip takes a moment to remember his parents, both of whom he lost to Covid-19

I used to sit and watch every United game with my dad, we were avid football fans and we’d chat away, so the first time I watched United I put a glass of white wine next to me. That’s what makes it tough sometimes, those chats, those little bits that fill in your week. It’s good to talk it out, you have to do that.

I’m just so pleased that they saw both my daughters get firsts, graduate and be in the jobs they want to be in. They burst with pride about my girls. I’ve tried to do the best to acknowledge them and pay them tribute, and if we can be half the people they were, then we’re doing a good job.

• The Guardian picture essay
• Coronavirus
• Death and dying
• Photography

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Narrative Essay on Losing a Loved One

Losing a loved one is a profound experience that reshapes our lives in ways we never imagined. It’s a journey through grief that challenges our resilience, alters our perspectives, and ultimately teaches us about the depth of love and the impermanence of life. This narrative essay explores the emotional odyssey of losing a loved one, weaving through the stages of grief, the search for meaning, and the slow, often painful, journey towards healing.

The Unthinkable Reality

It was an ordinary Tuesday morning when the phone rang, shattering the normalcy of my life. The voice on the other end was calm yet distant, bearing the kind of news that instantly makes your heart sink. My beloved grandmother, who had been battling a long illness, had passed away in her sleep. Despite the inevitability of this moment, I was not prepared for the crushing weight of the reality that I would never see her again. The initial shock was numbing, a protective cloak that shielded me from the full impact of my loss.

The Onslaught of Grief

In the days that followed, grief washed over me in waves. At times, it was a quiet sadness that lingered in the background of my daily activities. At others, it was a torrential downpour of emotions, leaving me gasping for air. I struggled with the finality of death, replaying our last conversations, wishing for one more moment to express my love and gratitude. Anger, confusion, and disbelief intermingled, forming a tumultuous storm of feelings I could neither control nor understand.

The rituals of mourning—funeral arrangements, sympathy cards, and memorial services—offered a semblance of structure amidst the chaos. Yet, they also served as stark reminders of the gaping void left by my grandmother’s absence. Stories and memories shared by friends and family painted a rich tapestry of her life, highlighting the profound impact she had on those around her. Through tear-stained eyes, I began to see the extent of my loss, not just as a personal tragedy but as a collective one.

The Search for Meaning

As the initial shock subsided, my grief evolved into a quest for meaning. I sought solace in religion, philosophy, and the arts, searching for answers to the unanswerable questions of life and death. I learned that grief is a universal experience, a fundamental part of the human condition that transcends cultures, religions, and time periods. This realization brought a sense of connection to those who had walked this path before me, offering a glimmer of comfort in my darkest moments.

I also found meaning in honoring my grandmother’s legacy. She was a woman of incredible strength, kindness, and wisdom, who had touched the lives of many. By embodying her values and continuing her work, I could keep her spirit alive. Volunteering, pursuing passions that we shared, and passing on her stories to younger generations became ways to heal and to make sense of a world without her.

The Journey Towards Healing

Healing from the loss of a loved one is neither linear nor predictable. There were days when I felt overwhelmed by sadness, and others when I could smile at fond memories. I learned to accept that grief is not something to be “overcome” but rather integrated into my life. It has become a part of who I am, shaping my understanding of love, loss, and the preciousness of life.

Support from friends, family, and sometimes strangers, who shared their own stories of loss, played a crucial role in my healing process. Their empathy and understanding provided a safe space to express my feelings, to cry, to laugh, and to remember. Counseling and support groups offered additional perspectives and coping strategies, highlighting the importance of seeking help and connection in times of sorrow.

Reflections on Love and Loss

Through this journey, I have come to understand that the pain of loss is a testament to the depth of our love. Grieving deeply means we have loved deeply, and this is both the curse and the beauty of human connections. The scars of loss never truly fade, but they become bearable, interwoven with the love and memories we hold dear.

Losing a loved one is a transformative experience that teaches us about resilience, compassion, and the enduring power of love. It reminds us to cherish the time we have with those we love, to express our feelings openly, and to live fully in the present moment. While the absence of a loved one leaves an irreplaceable void, their influence continues to shape our lives in profound ways.

In closing, the journey through grief is uniquely personal, yet universally shared. It challenges us to find strength we didn’t know we had, to seek connection in our shared humanity, and to discover meaning in the face of loss. Though we may never “get over” the loss of a loved one, we learn to carry their legacy forward, finding solace in the love that never dies but transforms over time.

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Real Life: Love, Loss, and Kimchi

By Michelle Zauner

Michelle Zauner, 27, at her apartment in Brooklyn.

The winner of our 11th essay contest, Michelle Zauner, shares a story of heartbreak and in-the-kitchen healing.

I’m so tired of white guys on TV telling me what to eat. I’m tired of Anthony Bourdain testing the waters of Korean cuisine to report back that, not only will our food not kill you, it actually tastes good. I don’t care how many times you’ve traveled to Thailand, I won’t listen to you—just like the white kids wouldn’t listen to me, the half-Korean girl, defending the red squid tentacles in my lunch box. The same kids who teased me relentlessly back then are the ones who now celebrate our cuisine as the Next Big Thing.

I grew up in the Pacific Northwest, in a small college town that was about 90 percent white. In my adolescence I hated being half Korean; I wanted people to stop asking, “Where are you really from?” I could barely speak the language and didn’t have any Asian friends. There was nothing about me that felt Korean—except when it came to food.

At home my mom always prepared a Korean dinner for herself and an American dinner for my dad. Despite the years he’d lived in Seoul, selling cars to the military and courting my mom at the Naija Hotel where she worked, my dad is still a white boy from Philadelphia. He’s an adventurous eater (ask him about steamed dog meat), but his comfort foods are meat and potatoes.

So each night my mom prepared two meals. She’d steam broccoli and grill Dad’s salmon, while boiling jjigae and plating little side dishes known as banchan. When our rice cooker announced in its familiar robotic voice, “Your delicious white rice will be ready soon!” the three of us would sit down to a wondrous mash-up of East and West. I’d create true fusion one mouthful at a time, using chopsticks to eat strips of T-bone and codfish eggs drenched in sesame oil, all in one bite. I liked my baked potatoes with fermented chili paste, my dried cuttlefish with mayonnaise.

There’s a lot to love about Korean food, but what I love most is its extremes. If a dish is supposed to be served hot, it’s scalding. If it’s meant to be served fresh, it’s still moving. Stews are served in heavy stone pots that hold the heat; crack an egg on top, and it will poach before your eyes. Cold noodle soups are served in bowls made of actual ice.

By my late teens my craving for Korean staples started to eclipse my desire for American ones. My stomach ached for al tang and kalguksu. On long family vacations, with no Korean restaurant in sight, my mom and I passed up hotel buffets in favor of microwaveable rice and roasted seaweed in our hotel room.

And when I lost my mother to a very sudden, brief, and painful fight with cancer two years ago, Korean food was my comfort food. She was diagnosed in 2014. That May she’d gone to the doctor for a stomachache only to learn she had a rare squamous cell carcinoma, stage four, and that it had spread. Our family was blindsided.

I moved back to Oregon to help my mother through chemo­therapy; over the next four months, I watched her slowly disappear. The treatment took everything—her hair, her spirit, her appetite. It burned sores on her tongue. Our table, once beautiful and unique, became a battleground of protein powders and tasteless porridge. I crushed Vicodin into ice cream.

Dinnertime was a calculation of calories, an argument to get anything down. The intensity of Korean flavors and spices became too much for her to stomach. She couldn’t even eat kimchi.

I began to shrink along with my mom, becoming so consumed with her health that I had no desire to eat. Over the course of her illness, I lost 15 pounds. After two rounds of chemo, she decided to discontinue treatment, and she died two months later.

As I struggled to make sense of the loss, my memories often turned to food. When I came home from college, my mom used to make galbi ssam, Korean short rib with lettuce wraps. She’d have marinated the meat two days before I’d even gotten on the plane, and she’d buy my favorite radish kimchi a week ahead to make sure it was perfectly fermented.

Then there were the childhood summers when she brought me to Seoul. Jet-lagged and sleepless, we’d snack on homemade banchan in the blue dark of Grandma’s humid kitchen while my rela­tives slept. My mom would whisper, “This is how I know you’re a true Korean.”

But my mom never taught me how to make Korean food. When I would call to ask how much water to use for rice, she’d always say, “Fill until it reaches the back of your hand.” When I’d beg for her galbi recipe, she gave me a haphazard ingredient list and approximate measurements and told me to just keep tasting it until it “tastes like Mom’s.”

Zauner in Seoul with her mother, Chong mi.

By Charley Ross

By Jenny McCoy

By Abby Gardner

After my mom died, I was so haunted by the trauma of her illness I worried I’d never remember her as the woman she had been: stylish and headstrong, always speaking her mind. When she appeared in my dreams, she was always sick.

Then I started cooking. When I first searched for Korean recipes, I found few resources, and I wasn’t about to trust Bobby Flay’s Korean taco monstrosity or his clumsy kimchi slaw. Then, among videos of oriental chicken salads, I found the Korean YouTube personality Maangchi . There she was, peeling the skin off an Asian pear just like my mom: in one long strip, index finger steadied on the back of the knife. She cut galbi with my mom’s ambidextrous precision: positioning the chopsticks in her right hand while snipping bite-size pieces with her left. A Korean woman uses kitchen scissors the way a warrior brandishes a weapon.

I’d been looking for a recipe for jatjuk, a porridge made from pine nuts and soaked rice. It’s a dish for the sick or elderly, and it was the first food I craved when my feelings of shock and loss finally made way for hunger.

I followed Maangchi’s instructions carefully: soaking the rice, breaking off the tips of the pine nuts. Memories of my mother emerged as I worked—the way she stood in front of her little red cutting board, the funny intonations of her speech.

For many, Julia Child is the hero who brought boeuf bourguignon into the era of the TV dinner. She showed home cooks how to scale the culinary mountain. Maangchi did this for me after my mom died. My kitchen filled with jars containing cabbage, cucumbers, and radishes in various stages of fermentation. I could hear my mom’s voice: “Never fall in love with anyone who doesn’t like kimchi; they’ll always smell it coming out of your pores.”

I’ve spent over a year cooking with Maangchi. Sometimes I pause and rewind to get the steps exactly right. Other times I’ll let my hands and taste buds take over from memory. My dishes are never exactly like my mom’s, but that’s OK—they’re still a delicious tribute. The more I learn, the closer I feel to her.

One night not long ago, I had a dream: I was watching my mother as she stuffed giant heads of Napa cabbage into earthenware jars.

She looked healthy and beautiful.

Michelle Zauner is a writer and musician in Brooklyn.

By Kathleen Walsh

By Ana Serrano

Essay on Losing Someone You Love

Students are often asked to write an essay on Losing Someone You Love in their schools and colleges. And if you’re also looking for the same, we have created 100-word, 250-word, and 500-word essays on the topic.

Let’s take a look…

100 Words Essay on Losing Someone You Love

The pain of loss.

When you lose someone you love, your heart feels very heavy. It’s like carrying a big rock that won’t go away. You miss their voice, their laugh, and the way they made you feel safe and happy. It’s hard to believe you won’t see them again.

Memories Remain

Even though they are gone, you keep memories of them alive. You remember the good times, like their smile or a joke they told. These memories are like small treasures that you keep inside and they help you feel close to them.

Life Moves On

Life keeps going even when we lose someone. It feels strange that the world doesn’t stop because you are sad. But with time, the sadness gets a little lighter, and you learn to smile again when you think of them.

Learning from Loss

Losing someone teaches you a lot. You learn that love is strong and doesn’t end, even when someone is not there anymore. You also learn to be kind to others because everyone will face loss at some point.

250 Words Essay on Losing Someone You Love

When you lose someone you love, it feels like a part of you is taken away. This person could be a family member, a close friend, or even a pet. The pain you feel is deep and real. It’s like having a heavy stone in your heart that you can’t remove. You might cry, feel empty, or even get angry. These feelings are all normal when you’re grieving.

Memories Last Forever

Even though the person you love is not with you anymore, the memories you made with them stay in your heart. You remember the laughs, the adventures, and even the quiet moments. These memories are precious, and they help keep the person’s spirit alive in your mind.

Learning to Live with Loss

Living without the person you love is hard. Each day can be a challenge. But over time, you start to find ways to move forward. You might start new hobbies, make new friends, or find comfort in talking about the person you miss. It’s not about forgetting them; it’s about learning how to keep going while holding onto their memory.

Support from Others

During tough times, friends and family can be a big help. They can listen when you need to talk, or just be there with you in silence. Sometimes, just knowing that others care can make the heavy feelings a little lighter. Don’t be afraid to reach out and share your feelings.

Healing Takes Time

There is no quick fix for the hurt of losing someone. It’s a journey that takes time. Some days will be better than others. But it’s important to remember that it’s okay to feel sad, to miss them, and to take the time you need to heal. Slowly, the weight of the stone in your heart gets a little lighter, and you find ways to smile again.

500 Words Essay on Losing Someone You Love

When we lose someone we love, it feels like a part of us is taken away. The pain is deep and personal. It is a sadness that sits in your heart and can make you feel very alone. People we love are like stars in our sky; when one goes away, the night seems darker and the world less kind. This feeling is called grief. It is a natural response when someone important to us is no longer there.

Even though the person we love is gone, our memories of them stay with us. We remember their smile, their laugh, and the way they made us feel. These memories can make us both happy and sad. Happy because we think of the good times we shared, and sad because we miss them so much. It’s like having a treasure box in your mind that you can open anytime, filled with all the wonderful moments you spent together.

Everyone Feels Differently

Each person deals with loss in their own way. Some might cry a lot or want to talk about the person who passed away. Others might want to be alone, or they may not show their feelings on the outside. It’s important to know that all of these reactions are okay. There is no right or wrong way to feel when you’re dealing with something as hard as losing someone you love.

It’s important to have people around who care about you and can help you through tough times. Friends, family, teachers, or counselors can offer a shoulder to cry on or an ear to listen. Sharing your feelings with others can make the heavy load of sadness a little easier to carry. Sometimes, just knowing that there are people who understand and support you can make a big difference.

Finding Ways to Cope

Finding ways to deal with our sadness is a big part of healing. Some people find comfort in writing about their feelings or drawing pictures. Others might listen to music, play sports, or spend time in nature. Doing things that make you feel calm and peaceful can help your heart start to heal.

Healing from a loss doesn’t happen quickly. It’s like having a wound that needs time to get better. At first, it might hurt a lot and seem like it will never heal. But with each day, the pain gets a little less, and you start to feel a bit stronger. It’s okay to take your time and let yourself heal at your own pace.

Keeping Love Alive

Even though someone we love is gone, the love we have for them never goes away. We keep it alive by remembering them and the impact they had on our lives. We can honor their memory by living our lives in a way that would make them proud. By doing this, we carry a piece of them with us always.

Losing someone we love is one of the hardest things we can go through. It can feel like being lost in a storm with no end in sight. But as time goes on, the storm gets quieter, and we learn to live with our loss. We never forget the person we loved, but we find a way to move forward with the love they left behind in our hearts.

That’s it! I hope the essay helped you.

If you’re looking for more, here are essays on other interesting topics:

• Essay on Physical Education
• Essay on Physical And Mental Health
• Essay on Lottery

Apart from these, you can look at all the essays by clicking here .

Happy studying!

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• Relationships

Is It Better to Have Loved and Lost? Yes, Yes, It Is!

Love is worth the risk..

Posted April 18, 2012

I have had my share of loss in life—more than some and less than others. I have walked the long road of terminal illness with a parent and a best friend, ultimately losing them in death. This weekend, fear of loss was knocking at the door of my house, but passed with great relief. Perhaps you know the feeling of sitting in an emergency room for hours, as everyone waits with anxious uncertainty to know if the news is good or bad. This weekend, it was good news for our family but I know it wasn’t for all the families in the waiting room. And it won’t always be for us.

Love is precious and life is fragile. For me, the weekend’s experience revived my awareness that painful feelings of loss are an inevitable part of love. You can’t have one without the other.

Grief is a painful process, indeed. And it’s not just the losing that hurts. I find it so painful to see someone I love suffer. To see my loved one in pain or in fear just breaks my heart. Sometimes I wish I weren’t so sensitive. I wish I could turn away from those painful feelings and be a bit more distant, a bit more matter-of-fact. But I realize that would also mean that I was a bit less in touch with love. And that is not something I would wish to give up. To be true to my best self, I must embrace the reality that the more I love, the more painful the loss.

In writing about the death of his dear friend, the poet Tennyson expressed this truth in the music and rhythm of these words:

I hold it true, whate’er befall; I feel it when I sorrow most; ‘Tis better to have loved and lost Than never to have loved at all.

I think we instinctively turn Tennyson’s observation into a question: is it better to have loved and lost than never to have loved before? We are often undecided about the answer, plagued by the question at a very deep level. We ask, wouldn’t it be better to protect ourselves from the pain of loss by never loving—really loving—at all?

Much of the isolation we experience in life is related to this fear of loss. If we stay distant, we imagine we protect ourselves. This is very unconscious , of course. We don’t consciously set out to keep a buffer between ourselves and others. We say we want to be close, but we tell ourselves that we can’t be close because we haven’t met the right person or we don’t have the time, the patience, the trust, or the flexibility to risk it.

Would you consider the idea that when we are overly picky, judgmental, or cautious that we are unconsciously putting up barriers so that we do not have to be in touch with all the risks involved in really, really loving someone? We tell ourselves that our friend or partner or sibling isn’t good enough, trustworthy enough, or safe enough. Perhaps we don’t open ourselves to love as fully as we could because we are so frightened that the relationship won’t work out It is a strategy of safety, but at what cost?

How sad it would be to live our lives in a mode of self-protection that costs us some of the most precious experiences of life: to love and to be loved. We exchange a life of fulfillment for a life of safety. We exchange one kind of pain for another: the pain of love-and-loss for the pain of loneliness . We must each ask ourselves if that is a trade we are willing to make.

Love costs so much because it gives so much. After all, if it didn’t give so much, we wouldn’t be in such pain when we lose it. For me, that is a trade-off worth its weight in gold.

Copyright 2012 Jennifer L. Kunst, Ph.D.

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To see more of Jennifer’s approach to psychotherapy , check out her newly released book: Wisdom from the Couch: Knowing and Growing Yourself from the Inside Out .

Jennifer Kunst, Ph.D ., is a clinical psychologist and psychoanalyst, working with adults and couples in her private practice in Pasadena, CA.

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Comparative Essay - Love and Loss

Amrit Morokar 11K

How can we compare and explore the themes of love and loss within 4 poems of our choice?

     This essay will be based upon the four poems “First Love” by John Clare, “Remember” by Christina Rossetti, “When We Two Parted” by Lord Byron and “A Woman to Her Lover” by Christina Walsh. Love and loss will be widely explored and compared in this essay, and we will be shown how the authors use of language and structure in each poem, can be shown to portray their ideas, regarding love and loss.  

    Here is some information about just one of our poets, Christina Rossetti. Christina Rossetti’s poems related to her, and changed since she found out that she was diagnosed with cancer. She was worried about her disease and so unfortunately died in 1894. In this essay, a discussion will be raised about the four poems, comparing how they are different, what the significance of each is, how the author expresses the theme of love and loss in different ways and the language and structure that is used to explore and express these ideas.

     “First Love”, “Remember” and “When We Two Parted” have a fixed rhyme – (ABAB rhyme). However, “A Woman to Her Lover” has free verse structure (no iambic pentameter) which was used to develop the idea of freedom because the poem is about “real love” and freedom. It is the only poem of the four that I have chosen, which doesn’t stick to any rhythm. A good example of this is when Christina Walsh says “O husband, I am yours forever and our co-equal love will make the stars to laugh with joy.” This is one way that Christina shows freedom in her poetry. “Remember” has a patriarchal sonnet, which is where the first eight lines discuss a particular idea of loss, and the last six lines offer a resolution/conclusion of that idea. “When We Two Parted” has a blank verse and uses an iambic pentameter (ten syllables per line, each alternately stressed/unstressed). An example of iambic pentameter in “When We Two Parted” is “Half broken-hearted, to sever for years.”

This is a preview of the whole essay

     In these two poems, “First Love” and “A Woman to Her Lover”, the authors represent love in ways which they can examine the nature of love. In reading “First Love”, john Clare gives out a clear message to the readers: How it feels when we fall in love for the first time. He expresses falling in love as something magical. He describes how his legs “refused to walk away”, in other words meaning he was totally wrapped up in love and so mesmerized by her beauty that he did not actually want  to walk away. “A Woman to Her Lover” is unusual. The poem represents love, but it is as If Christina Walsh doesn’t want to be possessed or worshipped, but respected instead. She thinks love means equal partnership; for example sharing things. It is not love if she does everything for her partner – “No servant will I be if that be what you ask. O lover I refuse you!”  “When We Two Parted” and “Remember” both express love in different ways. “When We Two Parted” shows that you do not know what you have until you lose it. Lord Byron had many affairs and therefore when he found out that his mistress was dying, he could not openly grieve because nobody knew that they were lovers. When he found out about his mistress dying, he felt sad and depressed, but all the same felt trapped, because he could not express himself. This sadness and depression made it so hard for Byron to express his feelings.

     These four poems also represent loss in some ways. “When We Two Parted” and “Remember” are very similar. Both poems give a different kind of message to their lovers but have one thing in common – the loss of a good, strong relationship. Byron is portraying that his mistress dumped him and now he does not know how to deal with it because he is married and is having an affair. He cannot openly talk about how he feels as his affair was a secret. He also writes “A knell to mine ear” in the third stanza. This is explaining that if he hears her name, it would be like a death bell in his ears. This poem also shows love deteriorating. Christina Rossetti on the other hand, is explaining to her lover how she is dying slowly, and to move on and be happy. The first line “…REMEMBER me when I am gone away” clearly tells us that this is poem is about loss and possibly death. She talks about separating from a loved one – possibly her husband – but it is not clear because in the second line she says that she will go “far away into a silent land.” This again could represent heaven – the fact that she is dying, or that she is just simply fed up of her relationship and wants to get away from everything, including love.

     “First Love” is the only poem out of these four that hardly represents loss (in the sense of never being to experience first love once again). It shows that he has lost his heart to her and is blinded by love. This can particularly be expressed when John Clare writes “and then my blood rushed to my face and took my eyesight quite away,” and “I could not see a single thing.” This shows that through his eyes, all he can see is her, and love, and he is overwhelmed by the feeling. However, “A Woman to Her Lover” represents loss because Christina Walsh’s partner is losing out on getting her. We can see this in the first three stanzas where Christina is refusing her lover and wants to be independent. Focusing on the first two stanzas mainly, there is evidence of Christina refusing her lover; “O lover I refuse you!” (First stanza) and “Fool, I refuse you!” (Second stanza). This shows that Rossetti may perhaps be trying to express loss, but the loss of which is derived from love. This is how the poems share a link, they are on the basis of love, but some waver off into loss.

     These four poems show different aspects of imagery. “First Love” shows natural imagery – for example “trees”, “flowers” and “snow” which create a happy background, but “Remember” creates a dark and depressive mood, which we can clearly see from her style of language and tone, which is morbid. We can see this when Rossetti says ““…REMEMBER me when I am gone away, gone far away into the silent land, when you can no more hold me by the hand, nor I half turn to go yet turning stay. The rhyme is also important here because it increases the fluency. “When We Two Parted” also creates a dull and depressive atmosphere because we can see from the title that the relationship is over and that there is bound to be grief from both lovers. Finally, “A Woman to Her Lover” expresses imagery that causes tension, as the last stanza has a turning point explaining how Christina Walsh will be with her husband forever, whereas in other stanzas she refuses her lover as mentioned above.

    To explore love and loss, and portray to the reader how they are felt, each writer uses a different mix of literary techniques. Similes can be very effective in comparing human emotions to items that the author can relate to. In “First Love,” One example of how John Clare uses similes is when he describes and compares his first love’s beauty to flowers – “Her face it bloomed like a sweet flower.” Clare also uses a hyperbole; “And then my blood rushed to my face and took my eyesight quite away.” This is known as a hyperbole (an exaggeration) because he isn’t literally blind, he has just lost his heart to a woman, and this highlights the phrase: love is blind, which is often heard these days.

    Clare was so caught up in love that he could not see anything else. He uses personification when saying “Are flowers the winters choice?” He is saying that he has never felt these feelings before, and is comparing love to snow because snow is beautiful.  It was easy to picture the scene of the poems because it sounded sensible, and is backed up by a clear use of emotive language and imagery. Some things such as “snow” in “First Love” are unusual, but not unheard of, and so this results in people finding it is easy to paint a mental picture of.

     The ideas of love and loss in these poems are important as they show us what the speaker felt at the time. It was a personal experience to them, and the imagery they used was very effective because it took a powerful grip on the reader, and the way imagery was used, is something that readers could relate to. The authors made each poem sound as pure as possible through techniques such as using metaphors, similes, personification, hyperboles, adjectives and imagery. These four poems are effective because they explore the idea and theme of love and loss thoroughly enough for the readers to get a general perspective on how love and loss can affect us in everyday life.  

Word Count: 1566

Amrit Morokar 11k

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• Word Count 1582
• Page Count 3
• Subject English

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Guest Essay

After I Lost My Son, I Realized I Needed to Stop Looking for Closure

By Liz Jensen

Ms. Jensen is a novelist in Copenhagen and the author of “Your Wild and Precious Life: On Grief, Hope and Rebellion.”

Four years ago, I got the news that every parent dreads.

Without warning, my healthy 25-year-old son, Raphaël — a wildlife biologist and an environmental activist — had collapsed and died, probably from a rare heart disorder nobody knew he had. The trauma catapulted me into a place of almost hallucinatory madness: a territory so tormenting, debilitating and bleak that I couldn’t imagine how I’d survive it, let alone find joy in the life that remained.

Catastrophes are radicalizing and transformative. You no longer see your life in the same way afterward. But must grief diminish you, or can it do the opposite?

The question was vital because my devastation as a newly bereaved mother felt mirrored by the pain and anxiety of millions of people struggling to process the consequences of global heating and the obliteration of precious ecosystems.

Both forms of grief were rooted in love. Both required courage, resilience and compassion. And the emotional arc of both, I came to believe, could create the strength and purpose needed to navigate an increasingly unstable future.

In the field of death and dying, one of the most enduring and influential figures is the Swiss American psychiatrist Elisabeth Kübler-Ross, who in the 1960s came up with the five stages of death: denial, anger, bargaining, depression and acceptance. She’d been studying the emotional arcs of terminally ill patients, but later she and her colleague David Kessler repurposed the stages to apply to the grief of the bereaved, and the five-stage model became deeply embedded in Western culture.

In a 2007 paper , the Nobel Prize-winning climate scientist Steven Running applied those stages to the climate crisis, characterizing denial as the belief that the climate emergency isn’t happening or that humans aren’t the root cause. The anger stage kicks in when you realize your worldview or lifestyle will have to change substantially. Then you bargain by downplaying the scale of the crisis or by putting all your faith in technological fixes. The depression stage manifests when you feel overwhelmed by the extent of the crisis and realize that governments and corporations are not only spinning their wheels but also often actively exacerbating the damage. Acceptance entails recognizing that the scale of the challenge is irrefutable and then looking for solutions, because “doing nothing given our present knowledge is unconscionable,” Mr. Running wrote.

After tragedy struck Mr. Kessler, he altered his own analysis of bereavement. As an author and public speaker who had spent his career supporting the bereaved, he felt he knew grief well. But the unexpected death of his 21-year-old son changed everything. Suddenly, like countless other bereaved parents, he faced the existential question raised in the adage that the two most important days in your life are the day you are born and the day you find out why. And he came to believe that acceptance isn’t the end of the grieving process; it’s only the beginning of a new, sixth stage of grief, defined not by finding closure but by finding meaning.

This stage made a lot more sense to me than any of the others did. There was no meaning in Raphaël’s death. But I could find purpose, meaning and fulfillment in what I did and made happen in its wake.

The year before Raphaël died, I co-founded the literary activist group Writers Rebel to put literature in the service of life on Earth. But after we lost him, I stepped back: I couldn’t face the video calls. Then, in those early months of grieving, I began to meet other bereaved parents, take daily swims in the freezing Danish winter sea, reconnect with the natural world and read books about consciousness that led me to abandon my rational, secular view of it. And one day, I remembered what Raphaël said when I belittled my ability to effect change: “Do what you can, where you are, with what you’ve got.”

What, I began to wonder, could be more meaningful than honoring my son’s memory and the world I love by being active rather than crying on the couch?

Seven months after Raphaël’s death, I stood in the freezing Copenhagen wind with a group of writers and made a speech about why literature must address the climate crisis with the urgency it deserves. I was raw and nervous, but I sensed his presence. When I quoted him — “I won’t stand aside and watch the world burn” — a huge cheer went up, and I felt an inner shift.

Yes, my son was dead. And yes, the planet’s life support systems were weakening. But it wasn’t too late for the planet.

I rejoined my weekly Zooms and helped organize a tribute to Earth’s most critically endangered species. Later, the notes I’d been writing to myself as therapy began morphing into a memoir. And yes, it all felt meaningful.

Mine was just one of many paths from grief to fulfillment. For those feeling paralyzed by climate grief, just doing something new or doing something familiar more mindfully can germinate what the eco-philosopher Joanna Macy calls active hope: not the amorphous hope of wishing on a star but the practical hope of rolling up your sleeves and getting to it. Intentions are fine, but the meaning lies in the doing — be it cheering up a friend, energizing voters, transforming a patch of urban scrub into a garden, joining a citizens’ movement, switching to a plant-based diet, ditching a bad habit or taking time to observe a creature in the wild.

Just a few months before the electrical signals in Raphaël’s heart were catastrophically disrupted, I found a passage in his notebook that showed he had a premonition that he would die young but that his sense of purpose would stay vividly alive.

“I’ll not be dead until my dream is, I’ll not fade away until my vision does, I’ll not be gone until all my hopes are,” he wrote.

It took his death for me to understand why I was born. It can’t take a civilizational collapse for humanity to understand why we belong here.

And it needn’t.

Liz Jensen is the author the ecological thrillers “The Rapture” and “The Uninvited,” among others. Her most recent book is “Your Wild and Precious Life: On Grief, Hope and Rebellion.”

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