Telling the Story: "Narrative Therapy," the Arc of Narrative, and Long Grief

[Not a riddle.] How do you know when your relationship really, really matters?

[Answer.] You'll know after it's over.

Telling the story of a partner's death is a necessity for a while. For me, it helped make sense of the drastic changes in my life, the rainstorm of sorrow, and the questions that pop up. Like, did I do everything I could? From the person that I am, that is?

A year and a half after Dave's death, which was expected but no less tragic, I found myself stuck on a very big decision that only I could make. Sell the big wonderful house where we'd spent most of our married time, in order to move into something small and more affordable? Or do everything else possible to hold onto it, from renting out the garage to hosting an air b'n'b to endless garage sales and round-the-clock work schedules?

Each option involved pain. Neither guaranteed relief from grieving, either.

When I realized I was "deciding" twice a day, frantically flipping from one choice to another -- and I am a person who usually has no problem making decisions -- I searched online for a counselor who could pitch in. It was the first autumn of Covid, which for me yielded a very specific blessing: therapy via Zoom meetings. No commute time wasted, no problems with road conditions, and no need to leave the house empty, either. (I was starting to feel as worried about any time away from the house, as I had felt about time away from Dave as his health slid, and slid, and slid. I didn't want him to face fear alone. And I didn't want the house to be damaged by any absence.)

My life is framed in stories: written, told, present, past, truth and decorative. To my utter astonishment and amusement, the counselor prescribed "narrative therapy." I'd never heard of it but it seemed "genius" for a novelist ... When I looked it up, here's what I found:

Narrative therapy is a style of therapy that helps people become—and embrace being—an expert in their own lives. In narrative therapy, there is an emphasis on the stories that you develop and carry with you through your life. (Jodi Clarke, MA, LPC/MHSP)

It Worked

 

Within a month I'd reached a decision I could live with (sell the house, tackle the huge challenge of taming an abandoned piece of land nearby, create a new home). I knew a lot more, too, about what factors in my life were driving my decisions, and which ones were constantly causing me pain. I discovered that I could stop pressing down hard on the inevitable wound of grief and loss, and breathe a bit better as a result.

Because stories ARE my life, eventually I started to play with the narrative arc -- oh, if that's not a familiar term, check out the MasterClass article on these. Here are the parts of the narrative arc that the the article describes:

1.  Exposition: The reader’s introduction to the story, providing background information to prime the audience.
2. Rising action. This usually begins with a triggering event that puts the story in motion.
   
3. Climax.The highest point of tension in the storyline, often forcing the main character to face a truth or make a huge decision.
4. Falling action. The conflict gives way toward resolution.
5. Resolution. This is not always happy, but shows how the events of the story have changed the characters and the world around them.

How could I fit that idea to the stage of my life opening up -- that is, surviving without Dave? If my decision to let go of the house was stage 3 of the narrative arc, was everything after this "falling action"? Just aging in place, alone? Look out, I could weep over that, pretty easily.

Even worse, maybe I was in the resolution part. What a terrible thought! All the good parts of the story were done, and I could "look forward" to simmering grief in solitude, with nothing much changing again, because the changes were done.

Another Approach

Although I'm not "seeing" the counselor as often, I rely on her backup. And in this case, she reminded me about something we'd outlined together, a year ago. Brace for it: I have a team. And on my team (I may have foreshadowed that I'm a nerd, didn't I? in some ways??) are the books and characters that I embrace. Sometimes that's George Smiley; sometimes Rivers in the Regeneration Trilogy; sometimes Katniss, or even (and in another medium) Phryne Fisher. There are more. 

A few weeks ago, the counselor reminded me to lean on my team.

So I opened a few books in a row, and found one divided into PARTS. Three of them. Each part had its own arc of narrative. And none of them functioned without the others.

This is what I've chosen for my narrative today:

Part I: Life before meeting Dave. Adventurous but with some serious lacks.

Part II: Life with Dave. Not always easy, including his illness, but omigosh varieties of fun and a resolution that let me see how much I changed, how much his life reshaped mine and strengthened me.

Part III: Life with Dave out of reach. He'll never stop being present as a force in the next part of the character arc. (And missing him won't end.) But there are chapters ahead, and I am not at "the end."

As the expression goes, "That's my story." For today.

When Love Overflows in the Northeast Kingdom

Paul and Bernadette Berthiaume Chouinard

Look at the greatest love stories that your English teacher pointed to: Romeo and Juliet. Casablanca. Wuthering Heights. If you are hearing a bit of sad music as you reflect on these, you're not alone.

True love, in real life, however, rarely steps onto the stage or the movie screen. It persists through challenges, and it overflows in ways that brighten and enrich the lives around it.

A ready example of how this works: Bernadette and Paul Chouinard, of Vermont's Northeast Kingdom.

Duchess, Paul, Duke.

This gracious couple celebrated 51 years of marriage this week. In addition to parenting and grandparenting with determination and grace, they continue to add to the richness of life in this region. Bernadette posts Facebook images of artfully plated meals she prepares, with the clear intent of nourishing both spirit and body. Paul retrieves images of the region's history and posts them in several Facebook forums that celebrate growing up here and the strong and creative people who've shaped the Kingdom. He annotates them with history from his own research, as well as a wider scope from his career as a teaching historian. 

Retirement is a fullness for this couple, rather than an emptying. Each day, they promote beauty and the ability to treasure what others have built, whether in the momentary beauty of a flower or the enduring resonance of architecture and photographed celebrations.

Paul and Bernadette treasure their Shih Tzu dogs, who are their babies now, curling on their laps, trotting around the lakeside home, and riding carefully along on automobile excursions. "Duke" and "Duchess" enjoyed a loving relationship with each other, as well as with their people.

So it was a terrible, heart-breaking shock when Duchess abruptly died on February 9. Nothing had prepared the Chouinards for such a drastic change. Most of all, they worried about Duke — how could he understand and how would he adapt to the absence of his small, sturdy companion?

There seemed no time to lose in finding a comfort for Duke. And when Paul asked online for word of another Shih Tzu to enter their home, blessings in the form of people who love pets came forward right away -- the next day, young Scarlet entered the family. As Paul explained, "She is not a replacement for Duchess, who will always be in our hearts. She will help to heal our pain and to reduce Duke’s anxiety."  

Duke, Bernadette, Scarlett

Small reports of the interactions of the two dogs -- who wagged a tail, who ate or refused to eat, who slept or could not sleep -- followed. And on the second day of Scarlet's presence, this report came:

"Duke seems to have experienced a day of mixed emotions. There are times when it is clear that he is looking for Duchess and feels confused by her absence. He did not eat this morning and was lethargic for a large part of the day. He and Scarlet have done well in adjusting to one another. They are respectful of one another and they are good about sharing their time and attention with each of us. We have been very aware of Duke's emotional struggle and we have given him lots of love."

The two little dogs were there as Bernadette and Paul marked 51 years of marriage on Sunday. Their most recent year held health challenges for both adults, as well as the tragedy of Duchess's passing. As Paul reflected on 51 years ago, he wrote, "We were married at the Church of the Nativity in Swanton, Vt, by Bernadette's cousin, Father Spear. It was a memorable event for many reasons. Our wedding took place in the midst of a major ice storm. We survived that challenge and many others related to our wedding and emerged as a married couple. Bernadette has been a major blessing in my life and in the life of our family. This past year, given the incredible health challenges that I faced, I would not have survived without her loving care. She has been a wonderful wife, mother, teacher, daughter and friend to all who are fortunate to know her. This week has been a particularly challenging week for both of us with the loss of our beloved Duchess and the adjustment for Duke with the acquisition of our new baby, Scarlet. Once again, we are weathering the 'storm.' I feel confident that with Bernadette's love and support we will emerge from it."

 

Bernadette marked the weekend of long-term romance — from wedding to mutual support to today's Valentine celebration — with a love-themed raspberry pie for Sunday's dinner.

As we who receive the daily Facebook photos and writings from the Chouinards continue to marvel at the beauty they infuse into their lives and those of the "babies" in their laps, I'm reminded of a "proverb" from the great writer William Blake: "The cistern contains; the fountain overflows."

Clearly, the Chouinards continue to craft a fountain of love. May this next year be an easier one, with many friends to appreciate the love they share. 

R.I.P., Duchess -- well loved.