Bookpleasures.com is honored to have as our guest today, Dr. Bob Rich, to discuss his latest book, The Hole in Your Life, Grief and Bereavement.

We will explore its inspiration, creative process, and what readers will carry with them long after the final page.

Dr. Rich earned his PhD in psychology in 1972. He has worn many hats—academic, researcher, applied scientist, builder's laborer, nurse, Director of a professional association, editor.

He ran a Counseling Psychology practice for more than two decades.

He served on the national executive of the College of Counseling Psychologists of the Australian Psychological Society and later as an APS Director, becoming the therapist to whom referrers sent their most challenging cases. 

Although he officially retired in 2013, he continues to offer pro bono counseling online, cultivating a global family of "children" and "grandchildren" who stay in touch for years—an expression of his deepest joy: being of benefit to others, especially those facing profound loss.

Dr. Rich's path as an environmental and humanitarian activist began while finishing his thesis and conducting futurology research as a young father in 1972—work whose alarming predictions have largely come to pass. 

He describes his current role as that of a "Professional Grandfather," striving to help replace a culture of greed and aggression with one of decency, generosity, and cooperation.

Norm: Good day Bob and thanks for taking part in our interview.

Bob:  It is my pleasure and honor to have you interview me for the second time. The first was after the publication of my 18th book, From Depression to Contentment: A self-therapy guide.

Norm: Bob, could you take us back to the exact moment you realized a 'hole' exists in human life that psychology textbooks never quite fill—and how Natalie's passing turned that realization into an urgent calling?

Bob: When Hitler's servants decided to move my family to the Budapest ghetto, we managed to qualify for an extra room by having my grandmother's sister, Aunt Janka, be part of our family. 

After the war, she stayed with us. Being childless, she often told me I was "the child of her life and the child of her heart," so when she died in 1951, it was like having my heart amputated. This was my first experience of the hole of grief.

Norm: You finished this book while actively grieving. How did the writing process function as part of your own healing, and what surprised you as you "field tested" your methods?

Bob: I had this book on grieving about two-thirds completed, but then struck a difficulty and put it away in a dusty drawer within my computer. 

Fiction is more fun to write than nonfiction (which is why I make nonfiction as packed of stories as I can), so I was busy enough living in my created realities.

When Natalie was diagnosed with cancer, I was full of hope that she would achieve a "spontaneous remission," like several other people I know, but also dealt with anticipatory grief. 

One of my major recommendations is that when facing any overwhelming worry, including grief, you schedule a set time for it, and then live the rest of your life as if it was normal. I did that, and typically spent that time writing a journal. 

Here is one very brief entry: I am editing this book for Michael Amos. One of the stories is by Peter, who when he wants some thing, asks his Higher Self. So, I went into a place of meditation, and asked, "Speak to me about Natalie."

Got that pins and needles feeling in my body, then a deep sadness. A loving compassion. I cried.

I didn't restart the book until after her death, and it flowed. I finished it in weeks. The original was built around the story of a real couple with only the names changed. Both were suicidal, and both bitterly blamed each other for the horrific death of their toddler son. 

They saw me individually for nine sessions each, then three sessions together, and tracing their progress is the skeleton of the book.

During the revision, I performed an anatomical miracle and gave the book two skeletons: this one, and my way of coping with my personal loss.

And Norm, you are right. Doing so was part of my healing.

Norm: You outline "The Two Parts of Grieving: Loss and Compassion for the Departed." Can you unpack this model and share how a reader can cultivate compassion for the departed without bypassing pain?

Bob: We have covered loss. It's the hole. Any loss leaves one. Say your employer goes bankrupt, so you don't have a job anymore. Or like the young woman who sent me an email about the condoms she'd found in her husband's pocket and "we don't use them." 

Even if the couple reconcile, the loss of trust sure leaves a big hole.

But the part of my book discussing compassion for the departed demonstrates that it's not needed. There is surprisingly sound scientific evidence for the following (p 42):

• If a case before a court of law depended on the evidence for life after death, the judge would rule to accept it.

• A Guide meets you with complete, nonjudgmental, unconditional love.

• You are led to re-experience the significant events of your life, so you can build on your strengths, choose restitution to pay for your mistakes, and choose the lessons you want to learn in the next life.

• Suicide, however, means that you need to return to a situation in which you need to face the very challenges that drove you to despair, so you have a chance to do better.

Norm: Grief for a child is often described as uniquely devastating. What pitfalls did you notice in your own journey, and how did rituals like Natalie's "Purple Party" help?

Bob: It is. That's one of my reasons for disliking the dairy industry. Poor cow is forced to have a baby a year, without even fun, since they use artificial insemination. 

Then the baby is converted into veal, and right back to the dinosaurs and before, our ancestors and cousins (like cows) feel grief.

But I didn't experience any pitfalls. I experienced 19 months of hope crashing toward despair toward acceptance. I did this at scheduled times, lived mindfully and practiced equanimity (what is, is).

Top level equanimity is, "There is an uncomfortable sensation in my toe (or in my heart). It's OK for it to be there." I am not hurting. This is where I am now during inevitable episodes of sadness.

When I can't manage it, I am hurting. This is a legitimate pain, so I accept it. I am OK hurting. This was my situation while writing up my daily anticipatory grief journal.

When I am unable to accept the pain and life isn't worth living, then I simply accept that, for now, that's where I am. Accepting it allows me to keep going. I have never been actively suicidal, but many of my clients have benefited from thinking this way.

As for ritual, it has been very beneficial for all the many people who love Natalie, and I joined in, but personally I don't need it.

I have written a Complete Guest Post elsewhere about the purple party.

Norm: What are your best guidelines for supporting grieving kids at different ages—what to say, what not to say, and how adults can model healthy mourning?

Bob: Norm, you are truly a wise person, but let's keep it a secret. The best way to teach kids anything is "Do as I do." They will, whether what you say agrees with it or not.

Little children have literal minds. They hear what you say, not what you intend. Reading a suitable picture book with them is a great way, and I have recommended a couple.

The main requirement for all ages is unconditional love while declining to accept bad behavior. For older kids, it is very effective to ask for their help. Being trusted, being allowed responsibility, is likely to lift them out of their grief by giving them something else to focus on. 

Sharing scheduled grieving times as a family is a great way to make the family a mutually loving team.

And have fun together.

Norm: How does your "Mindfulness-Based Grief Relief" differ from standard mindfulness approaches, and what micro-practices work for someone who can't sit still with their anguish?

Bob: It is simply Jon Kabat-Zinn's Mindfulness-Based Stress Relief applied to a specific pain. I wish the phone would ring with Natalie at the other end. 

It is OK to have that wish. It is entirely natural and reasonable. I accept that I miss her, for now.

I have a dear friend in Britain. We have never met, but she has read everything I've written and is a great support in whatever project I take on. The one thing she has rejected is mindfulness meditation. "It bores me."

The thing is, boredom implies the passage of time, but time is an illusion. There ain't no such thing. Look at a river. Look away then look back. It seems the same, but you're looking at a different piece of water.

This instant, I am focusing on a candle flame. I notice myself fidgeting. I accept the wriggle, then calmly return my focus to the candle flame. A thought intrudes: "This is boring!" I accept the thought, then calmly return my focus to the candle flame. An emotion intrudes: "

I just want to die and join him." I accept the emotion, then calmly return my focus to the candle flame.

Norm: One chapter tackles 'Stuck in Grief.' Could you share one client case where the shift from stuck-ness to stretching after loss became visible in real time—almost like watching time-lapse healing?

Bob: I describe five reasons one may be stuck in grief. Several can act at the one time.

OK, I'll tell you about a person I didn't discuss in my book. This was a lady in a wheelchair because her back was fractured in a car smash twenty years before. Her husband died in the crash. 

She was referred to me for complex PTSD: nightmares of the event, terror at the very thought of getting into a car (imagine how limiting that is!), TV watching practically all her waking hours to interfere with thought and memory.

During our first session at the nursing home where she received 24-hour care, I found out that she suffered more distress at the loss of her husband than at her own tragedy.

The way to deal with such a situation is to take the poison out of the memories. This is called "exposure therapy" because you create a safe place, then deliberately re-experience the trauma over and over. 

The emotional response is horrendous at first, but after sufficient repetitions it eases, and eventually it's like a story about someone else.

I know, because I have done it for myself.

Exposure therapies have a bad reputation because many people start it, then feel unable to keep going. Then it can actually worsen the trauma.

I used something called Traumatic Incident Reduction with this lady. She went over the car smash 21 times. At first, she couldn't face the thought of it, so I asked her to imagine seeing it on TV. 

When that reduced distress to 3/10, she watched it in imagination as a bystander. Then, the final several sessions were being herself, in the car.

And yes. This didn't fix her broken back of course, but it did fix her broken heart.

Norm: The phrase 'every cloud has a silver lining' can sound cliché to the bereaved. How do you honestly test whether a silver lining is authentic growth or mere coping fantasy with your clients?

Bob: I would never say that to someone in current despair. By what is called Socratic questioning, I do my best to get my client to come to that realization.

Well down the track, I often ask... used to ask before retirement, "In what way are you now a better person because of this tragedy?"

Often, people engage in new activities, and new attitudes such as compassion. It is then that they often identify this as a silver lining.

Norm; In "I Hated Him but Now I Miss Him," you address mixed feelings after complicated relationships. How can readers process ambivalence, regret, or even relief without guilt?

Bob: That chapter is about the death or departure (e.g., to jail) of an abuser. Guilt is an unlikely reaction, unless perhaps if the victim murdered the bully. 

I haven't encountered such a case but would approach it the same way as guilt for anything else: work toward self-forgiveness.

I have the positive psychology habit of attaching cards to my emails. Here is the relevant one:

Norm: You call the body a 'spacesuit for surviving on this planet.' Can you recall one day when your own body's signals—tight throat, shaking hands—became GPS for the next right step in grief?

Bob: Sorry, no. That concept is a source of comfort and healing for me. The Person who was my daughter for 56 years is no longer in that spaceship but is in a better place. 

She is processing her just-completed life, extracting what she has learned, and setting up the next lessons she will request in the next life.

Norm: You blend personal stories and case studies. How do you navigate confidentiality and ethics in storytelling, and what do you hope readers—and the friends supporting them—will actually do differently after reading your book?

Bob: No way known can you identify any real person from my books. In a few cases I have only changed the names, but mostly I mixed several case notes together into a story.

What I hope people will remember?

• Unconditional love is the strongest force in the universe.

• If you have a good dose of the "seven magic bullets" in your life, you can cope with anything. http://bobswriting.com/psych/firstaid.com

• You can create a mobile haven by living mindfully.

• When you have an all-consuming worry, schedule it for a specific time.

• We survive everything, even death.

Norm: You now counsel hundreds of 'digital grandchildren.' What surprised you most about how cyber-grief (loss without physical contact) follows or breaks the patterns in your book?

Bob: It's not necessarily grief. It tends to be one of several things:

• Feelings of aggression that horrify the person. (If it doesn't horrify them, they don't reach out for help but do it.)

• Guilt for a past act, often sexual abuse of a younger child.

• Relationship issues.

Norm: Where can our readers find out more about you and The Hole in Your Life, Grief and Bereavement?

Bob: They can check out my blog, Bobbing Around 

If they subscribe, they have earned a free electronic book. Sending me proof of purchase of any of my books also earns a free book. 

A review qualifies as proof of purchase, provided the book wasn't free from me.

I have a contacts form they can use to send me a private message.

Norm: As we wind up our interview, in one sentence, give us the single prompt you give clients to draft a 'legacy letter' to the person they lost—something that converts raw sorrow into future-oriented action.

Bob: What a good idea! I've never done that. It's a good day when you learn something new. Thank you for being my teacher.

I doubt I would say the same thing to everyone, but tune into the person and say what comes to mind intuitively. This might be, "He still loves you," or "You still have a good life to live until you join her," or "Thank you for the joy of having been of benefit to you."

Norm: Thanks once again and good luck with all of your future endeavors