Grief

December 2014: My father was diagnosed with cancer and given 3 to 6 months to live. I remember taking him home from that appointment, after the Doctor told him that he had lived 80 years and should live out his days without having to endure the sickness that treatment would bring. I remember the lump in my throat as I tried to change places with him and become the strength for him that he had always been for me. I vowed to be strong and carry him, and the rest of the family, doing whatever needed to be done until we said our final good-bye. Peeling back that bravado, you would find a little Daddy’s girl, curled up on his lap, sobbing for the day that was sure to come.

I discovered that grief alters your identity.

June 2017:  My 83 year old mother became quite ill on a Sunday night and was taken to the hospital. Her vital organs were shutting down. No heroic measures. No hope of recovery. Hospice stepped in at the end of the week and then she was gone. One week to be by her side. One week to hold her hand. One week to try to comfort her and assure her of my love. I didn’t want her to see me cry. I had to stay strong for her and the family. She was ready for death and actually had prayed to die many times over the years. How could I grieve when she was finally at peace, no longer tormented by mental illness? My loss was her gain… right? Then, quite unexpectedly, three weeks after her death Dana came home from work and found me in a puddle of tears, crying out as if it was fresh news, “My mom is gone!” And those tears just seem to keep coming without warning, way more often than I find acceptable.

I discovered that grief hides deep inside, only to come out… frequently… and inconveniently.

Dad is still living. Truly living; blessing people every day; writing words of wisdom in his journal as his ebbing strength keeps him close to his easy chair.  I feel so blessed every minute we have together and thank God for allowing me this extended time with him. Yet, there is a grief that seeps into my spirit, knowing that I cannot be prepared to lose him… ever. It will not feel the same or be the same as losing Mom. Or any other loss in my life.

I discovered that grief is not tidy and uniform.

I try to bring reason to my emotions, to chase away the tears. I have had nearly 60 years with my parents. Good parents. I have been blessed beyond words by their lives. Many people don’t get that many years. I am thankful, yet I am sad.

I discovered that grief is not rational.

I have been trained in Pastoral Counseling and have read about grief. I have walked with others as they grieve the loss of a loved one. I know about grief. Even so, I was not prepared for the impact that loss brings. I cannot write this blog without looking at the screen through tears. Because grief hurts and I know that you have your own loss and grief to endure and that brings more tears because I care about your pain, too. But, amidst the sorrow, there is hope. Hope assures me that life in this broken world is not all there is. There is a life to come that I cannot explain or even begin to understand. I know that God walks with us in the valleys, because I believe His Word is true and I have heard the testimonies of countless people who have felt Him in the darkest moments of life...and now... so have I.

I discovered that God is present in our grief.

If you see me with tears in my eyes, it’s okay to make eye contact. You don’t have to pretend you didn’t notice. It is fine to smile or to cry with me. It's even okay to make me laugh. There is really nothing you can say to make those tears go away. Just don’t be afraid of my apparent weakness.

I have discovered that grief makes me real. And that is okay.