Good Grief: What Polly the Parakeet Taught Us About Loss

The poet Mary Oliver once wrote, “To live in this world you must be able to do three things: To love what is mortal, to hold it against your bones knowing your own life depends on it; and, when the time comes to let it go, to let it go.”

It’s a fundamental truth that to live is to experience loss. Some losses will be earth-shattering—divorce, betrayal, debilitating health issues, and personal trauma—while others will be quieter—children leaving the nest, professional disappointments, and aging.

But there is no loss as enduring as death, a passage at the core of existence. Much like spring flowers, each of us emerges into the world, bursts into radiant color, withers, and dies. We lose grandparents, fathers, mothers, friends, and colleagues. When the world isn’t fair, we lose those we love outside of the natural order of things.

Here’s the question we all ultimately grapple with: After experiencing this universal and life-changing sorrow, how does one move forward? How does one live well?

The answer lies in this: Learning how to grieve is a life skill as fundamental as learning to tie your shoe, mastering basic arithmetic, and programming the remote control.

We generally learn to grieve from our community. Some communities are stoic and handle their emotional suffering quietly, while others exude noisy, visible, and full-throttled expressions of grief. Yet for others, it’s not tears but whiskey that flows and laughter that fills the air as memories are shared. Mourning practices differ by culture and can inhibit or enhance the healing process.

Thoughtfully exploring your personal approach to grief, as well as the influences of your family and culture, will empower you to understand whether these learned expressions truly optimize your health and well-being. Ask yourself: How do I grieve? Are my grief practices healing or hurting?

Polly and Gillian

Source: Photo by Gina Vild

Polly’s Life as a Lesson in Grief

I was put to the test years ago when my 6-year-old daughter’s pet parakeet, Polly, died, a devastating experience for a child whose life had been untouched by death in any form. Polly, who would sit on Gillian’s shoulder as she did her homework and whose happy chirps filled our home, was inexplicably gone—and my daughter plunged into mourning. She demanded answers. What had happened to Polly? Where did Polly go?

Every parent will accept that a child’s pain is far more agonizing than our own, and I wanted nothing more than to ease my daughter’s grief.

But how?

For the first time, I wondered what I had learned from my own upbringing and culture. I came from a sprawling and tightly interwoven Italian family where grief was noisy and worn openly, like an exposed wound. Each and every time a family member died, I witnessed my family’s sorrow.

At first, it was raw and consuming, their wound a palpable force of sadness. Over time, it would soften and transform into deep reverence and gratitude for memories held dear. The tears would eventually dry, ushering in joyful memories, laughter, and a certainty that those who were gone would live forever in our memories.

Was this the model I wanted to introduce to my own family?

Good Grief

I turned to experts for guidance. Their teachings introduced me to the concept of “good grief,” a healthy way to navigate loss. It was a process that mirrored what I had learned from my family.

Good grief doesn’t stifle emotions; rather, by fully expressing sorrow, healing is accelerated. Numerous studies affirm that openly acknowledging and expressing grief facilitates adaptive coping and adjustment to loss. It actually speeds up the healing process, whereas stifling grief can hinder healing. For example, it was found that those who lost a spouse and openly expressed the depth of the loss were, in effect, inviting ongoing support and care from others. As a result, these widows and widowers showed stronger psychological adjustment as compared to those who did not.

There was more.

As I contemplated how to best commemorate the life of my daughter’s little parakeet, I recalled how my family would sit around the kitchen table and recount over and over well-worn stories about those who had died, bringing their loved ones to life with remembrances of good deeds, foibles, and sweet memories. Studies enthusiastically confirmed that shared narrative was a powerful tool for processing grief and finding meaning in loss. We most commonly find this shared narrative in eulogies where we share reflections to honor and commemorate.

Grief Essential Reads

Conversations With Patients Who Have Died

We Heal From Grief in Relationship

Honoring Polly

The question remained: How could I take all of this good grief and pass it along to Gillian?

I decided that my daughter should bury her little bird, but not her pain. So I sat at the computer and wrote a four-page eulogy for Polly, pouring onto the screen every single little memory I could conjure up about the bird. It ended with the consoling thought, “We live for as long as we are remembered, and knowing how greatly Polly was loved, she will live forever.” Did I hear in this the echo of all those stories told around the kitchen table?

We buried Polly in the backyard. Our family all stood quietly at the grave as I read the eulogy. We then all said something about Polly, what we remembered, and what we would miss about her. Nearly 30 years later, a flat stone still marks her small grave.

Polly set a precedent for our family’s grieving. Each pet we have cherished and lost has been given a eulogy, a commemorative service, and a burial in the backyard. I hope I got it right when I urged my children to love fiercely with arms held wide, to grieve deeply, and, as Mary Oliver wrote, “when the time comes to let it go, to let it go” by moving forward with acceptance and gratitude.