Becky’s word nerd is about to make an appearance, friend.
Ambiguous kind of sounds like amphibious, doesn’t it? Well, it does to me (see word nerd reference above). And when I hear amphibious, I think of the most well-known amphibian: the frog. I usually find that people’s feelings about frogs have no gray area/nuance - you either love them and think they’re cute, or you think they’re slimy and gross.
The prefixes ambi- and amphi- mean similar things: both, a combining of two characteristics. Amphibious combines land and sea/fresh air and underwater, and ambiguous combines presence and absence.1 A both/and and not an either/or.
But unlike the lack of nuance in how most people feel about frogs, the gray area and nuance in the presence and absence of ambiguous loss hangs over us like a thick fog.
Ambiguous Loss describes the ongoing grief associated with a person or thing that is both present and absent. It is a loss that remains unclear and without immediate resolution, and often with a resolution that may never be achieved. Ambiguous loss takes place when there is psychological absence combined with physical presence. A loved one’s psychological absence occurs when they are emotionally or cognitively gone or missing. This can be caused by a number of different things: Alzheimer’s/dementia, traumatic brain injury, mental illness, addiction, depression, a change in relationship status - any situation where there is psychological absence combined with physical presence.2
With this type of loss, there is a lack of certainty, closure, or understanding. Because it defies resolution, ambiguous loss can be the most difficult loss for us to process.
Ambiguous loss is a term I’ve only come to learn about recently. For many years, I knew I had experienced loss. So much of that loss was ambiguous - it was uncertain, confusing, and impossible to understand. Presence and absence held hands early on for me, as authority figures in my childhood who were very physically present chose to harm me through mental, emotional, and sexual abuse, with the care, safety, and protection I should have known being very much absent from their presence.
For most of my life, I thought the best way to deal with loss was to push past it instead of dealing with it, steamrolling my grief from these losses to rush to the other side and be “okay.” I minimized everything, pretending the losses didn’t rattle me. 3
Learning about and coming to terms with the ambiguous loss I’ve experienced in the past and am experiencing currently is teaching me that there are wounds that won’t ever be fully healed on this side of eternity. The “cure” for these wounds can only be found by clinging to the healing God’s certain presence provides. A certain presence that is with me, whether I ever obtain resolution/clarity/understanding on this side of eternity.
Speaking of presence, something else has been very present since my childhood: my love of geek culture, which includes a love for all things Hobbit, Lord of the Rings, and J.R.R. Tolkien. This love is often used to remind me of truth - both the lower case t and capital T kind. Whether you share my love for fiction or Hobbit/Tolkien references, I hope the quotes I share with you throughout this series on ambiguous loss will help highlight God’s great love for us and presence with us even in - especially in - the midst of the uncertainty of ambiguous loss.
Here’s our first one, and it’s from Tolkien’s The Lord of the Rings:
‘Alas! there are some wounds that cannot be wholly cured,’ said Gandalf.
‘I fear it may be so with mine,’ said Frodo. ‘There is no real going back. Though I may come to the Shire, it will not seem the same; for I shall not be the same. I am wounded with knife, sting, and tooth, and a long burden. Where shall I find rest?’
Gandalf did not answer.
It’s assumed by readers and even characters in the story that once the Ring is destroyed, the Dark Lord is defeated, and the Shire has been retaken that our hobbit friends will be able to go back to their old homes, recover from the wounds they took and losses they incurred during their travels, and return to the life they had before this adventure.
While Merry, Pippin, and Samwise are able to return to their former lives, it’s not the same for Frodo, who after acting as Deputy Mayor for a time slowly begins to fade from public life in the Shire. Frodo journeyed into hell to destroy the ring and returned home with wounds that never truly healed. 4
There is no real going back after loss, is there. I can never experience a childhood that did not have the presence of authority figures holding hands with the absence of care, safety, and protection from them. I can never go back in time and re-enter my adulthood with a trust that wasn’t shattered in childhood. Like Jacob after his wrestling with God5, I will forever walk with a limp after wrestling through this loss. We are forever changed by the loss we experience.
I believe we can find some truths about loss, and healing to take with us for help and encouragement. My hope and prayer in writing this series.
Until next time,
Becky
You can thank Merriam-Webster for this reference. My go-to dictionary for definitions, synonyms, word origins, etc.
The Myth of Closure by Pauline Boss has been such a helpful resource in naming and understanding my ambiguous loss.
Chapter 4 of my book Glimpses of Love: The Most Excellent Way of Imperfection talks about loss, death, and grief, as well as a brief mention of ambiguous loss. Writing about it has certainly helped my processing of it.
You can read the full story in Genesis 32:24-32.
My debut book - Glimpses of Love: The Most Excellent Way of Imperfection - is available now on Amazon.
A couple of other ways you can support me are found here and here.
You can find me on Instagram | Twitter | Facebook
Find past glimpses of love posts by visiting beckygonzalez.substack.com
The first time I read Return of the King, the part about some wounds not healing touched me deeply. The pandemic contained so much ambiguous loss for me. Thank you for putting words to that kind of grief.