By that, I was referring to those pieces of ourselves, our security blankets or sense of stability, that may erode away for reasons we have no control over. I was referring to the loss of things with deep sentimental value to us. I was referring to the pain of letting go and moving beyond things that once served a purpose in our lives but no longer serve our highest good.

For some, it might be the loss of physical or mental function; for others it could be the loss of personal property; and yet others it might be dealing with the loss of a relationship. There are countless examples of losses people have experienced and continue to experience.

It’s important to recognize that, just as it is appropriate to grieve and feel the pain after the death of our loved ones, it ’s equally appropriate and healthy to grieve the other losses in life too.

Grief, in it’s purest sense, is a vital part of dealing with painful circumstances. It is a mechanism to help us move through and, eventually, beyond suffering. It guides us to a point at which we become able to let go of our sadness, anger and hopeless bewilderment.

Life is unfair. That’s a fact. The question, therefore, is, what are we going to choose to do about it? Will we choose the life of the victim and indolently wallow in our suffering and self-pity? Will we meet our pain and suffering head-on and fight until we come out on the other, brighter side, I wonder.

I wonder, too, what attitudes we’ll take when we are the outsider looking on as someone else is grieving. Death and loss seem to have become a significant trait of our culture, yet the tears of those who are grieving often make us uncomfortable. The avoidance of grief can tend to leave us in a state of confusion about whether our experience of grief is valid or "normal."

In general, I think our culture is a bit primitive in the realm of healing from loss, compared to primitive cultures themselves.

For example, the book "Swallowed by a Snake" by Tom Golden explores how various cultures deal with grief and loss. One example that caught my attention was the ritual performed by a group called the Dagura. Their people are allowed and encouraged to express any emotions that they need to, as long as it is related to their feelings about the loss.

The Dagura believe in releasing grief with all its intensity, but they have also developed a system in which the intensity does not exceed the capacity of the mourners. There are people designated to watch and protect the grieving person or group of people, so they don’t "grieve themselves to death."

They see grief as food for the psyche, necessary to maintain a healthy psychological balance. But they also see its danger — too much grief and a person will "lose their center" and, they believe, can grieve to death.

Everyone participates in the ritual, though; it’s seen as a solemn responsibility. The ritual lasts about three days, although grief that continues longer than that is still validated and cared for until it runs its natural course.

The point here isn’t to mimic indigenous rituals or hold their specific beliefs. Rather, the point is, it helps illustrate the power of community support and the validation of the emotional response to loss.

We need to keep the emotions in check, yes, but we need not fear and avoid grief as much as we often do.

Kate Pavlacka, a graduate of the State University College at Oneonta, has been totally blind for about 10 years.