Lovely, peaceful spot.
This is a post about grief, that I hope will be of some help to those who are struggling with the loss of someone close to them. It starts with this letter from Dr. Robert Hughes to a young man he’d been counseling. This was written around the time of the young man’s father’s funeral:
“Sam I am not going to tell you when you are going to heal, or how you are going to be renewed in faith and strength. I know you will recover but it’s not going to be today and it’s not going to be tomorrow. There is nothing I can say here or do to make you feel better. You have to go through this, but what I offer you right now is just to say that I am aware of you and your burden. I am aware of your pain. I can hear you, and I can listen to you as you speak, revealing whatever it is you choose, and that is how I’m not only aware of your pain but present to its inflictions through connection.
“And sometimes I believe that’s the first thing the grieving need.
“We don’t want to be the only one aware of our pain without somebody else also being witness to our life. Otherwise we become isolated and lonelier than ever making us feel that we are the only one going through this. I am aware, I will pray and I will check on you and I’m here for you 24/7 anytime of the day or night. I am present even when proximity does allow it in shared space.”
When I read this from Dr. Hughes, a psychologist and long-time counselor, I realized his message was something that most people who are grieving could get inspiration and a bit of comfort from.
The urge to write about grief became even more imperative since I just came home from a funeral for my brother-in-law. My sister and her kids are in those first days and weeks of grieving, and I’m so aware that we who love them need to be present for them and listen. The people grieving need to be able to share their pain as long as they need to. Our tendency is to try to make them feel better. Sometimes, even without realizing how inappropriate it can be, we even offer platitudes, hoping that it will ease their pain.
Nothing eases the pain except time.
I repeat, nothing eases the pain except time.
We need time and distance from that first abrupt tear in our life and our heart, as someone so dear to us is now suddenly gone.
That tear is real. That gaping hole is real.
People of really strong faith often are comforted by their belief that their loved one is in heaven, and that is a good thing Still, we all need the comfort of knowing there is someone who can let them know that they still see the pain of grief they’re going through.
In my book, The Many Faces of Grief, which is based on my experience as a hospital chaplain, as well as my own grief journey, I wrote about the importance of entering into the pain of grief with someone and listening to the stories. The following in an excerpt:
It’s important, too, to know that in addition to not going through the stages (of grief) in any kind of order, we may not experience all of them. Some people only experience two or three. The theory that we go through all five stages in a chronological order, moving from the first to the fifth, has been disproven in more recent years by mental health professionals, and even Kubler-Ross has modified her model.
The truth is, nobody’s grief is exactly like anyone else’s, and there’s no right or wrong to it at all.
Another important truth about the process, is how important it is to have the freedom to tell our stories as often, and for as long, as we need to. I first learned that truth during my chaplaincy training. Too often, people are reluctant to speak openly about their grief beyond the first few days or weeks. A time period that seems to be socially appropriate. They rationalize that decision by saying things like, “Others don’t want to keep hearing the same thing over and over.”
“We don’t want to make them sad.”
“Friends want to see us happy. See that we’re over it.”
“It’s better to just keep quiet. Don’t burden family or friends.”
There are many other things that hold us back. Make us put on a brave face and say we’re okay, but as one wise chaplain said to me when my husband had his first heart attack, “Maryann, when are you going to stop swallowing your feelings?”
That’s why sharing is important.
If you are grieving and sense that family and friends no longer want to hear about your sadness, I urge you to find a grief support group, or one close friend who doesn’t tire of your story. It is so important for our physical and mental health to let those feelings out, so they don’t fester inside and cause all kinds of physical problems.
This is all from me for today folks. Hope to be back to a regular routine of blogging soon. Be safe. Be happy. Be Kind.
