Grief and loss come in many guises. All grief is not the result of Death, but all losses are a kind of little death. Our response to these little deaths - the illnesses, the disappointments, the moves, the divorces—are shaped and formed by our unique personality and our life experience as well as many other factors.
Our first experience of loss can significantly shape our future response to loss. When I was in elementary school the father of one of my classmates died. I had always known about death because my dad was a minister. However, I don’t think I ever realized until then that death could happen to someone I loved or a member of my own family. I was very curious about it all. I befriended my classmate during that time in her life. I was her friend through the selling of the family farm and her families subsequent move into town. I continued to be her friend until my family moved away a few years later. During that time of great curiosity about death I remember leaning up over the front seat of the car one day and saying something like, “Mom, Dad, don’t misunderstand what I’m about to say, but I wish someone in our family would die.” I don’t remember my parents’ response and I don’t know how many days or hours passed (to my mind it seems like it all happened the same day) but shortly thereafter we received a phone call that my great-grandmother had died in a house fire.
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| Intentionally seeking beauty is one way I have found to comfort myself in times of loss |
I was sure I had wished her dead. I felt terribly, secretly guilty for a long, long time.
After shock and denial, guilt is still the first reaction I have to the news of a loved one’s death. It doesn’t really matter what specifically I feel guilty for. None of it is particularly rational anyway. It’s just an insight I’ve gained over the years. When I go to that guilty place I know why. The insight helps take the sting out of the guilt so that it passes a little more easily.
While our natural inclination is to avoid the pain of grief, wisdom and discernment do not come through avoidance. Think of grief as being like an infected wound. Left alone, the wound might fester and become more and more painful. It might break open violently and painfully, in a way that could spread the infection to other healthy areas of the body. Most of us, when we have an infection or painful wound, care for it. We care for it gently. We may gently probe the wound or cleanse the wound. We apply the appropriate healing ointments. We may bandage it. We may limp or otherwise favor the wounded part of our body. If the wound does not respond to our own care, we will seek out someone with special knowledge for the care of infected wounds – a doctor or a nurse.
Grief is one of the most painful wounds we will ever need to care for. We will need to be gentle with our grief. We may only be able to limp through life for a while. We will need to gently approach and probe our grief wound to discover what type of healing care is needed. We may need to seek out the help of someone who has special knowledge about grief – a pastor, counselor or other professional. We may avoid our pain or even run from it for a while. That is normal enough. Yet, I believe you have the courage to move beyond avoiding the pain to the place where you begin learning to care for yourself and/or to seek the help you need. Gently. Carefully.
I wish you strength as you begin or continue your journey toward hope and healing from the pain of grief.
