remembering

grief, bereavement, loss, death.

The christmas tree reminds us that they’re not coming this year. it always seems to come to us in moments of imbalance when we are unprepared. while folding laundry or driving to a birthday party, or in moments of self-absorbed cynicism: the news steals our sense of safety, and we find ourselves dreading the future moments of pain and emotion that will come, and the absence of that person we counted on to exist and be there. that person we loved.

she’s dead.
he’s gone.
they died in an accident this morning.
he passed away in his sleep last night.

when the nausea and shock hits, we reel and protest. waves of sleepiness and exhaustion can take over as our bodies shut down. “NO!” we scream, but we cannot stop them from being gone. at first, often, a mix of surreal feelings and guilt for not tearing up can be confusing. sometimes tears are there on the surface, and though we sob or shout, numb waiting for true release is all we can experience for days or weeks (or years).

grief is a natural biological, spiritual and emotional process. there are basic components:

Denial and shock
Bargaining
Anger
Sadness
Acceptance

yet these components of grief do not always come one right after the other in natural progression. they do not obey us. sometimes they come in mini-waves of emotion, a series of crying spells or fits of rage, over long periods of time. most of us these days are not given time off of work to grieve, nor do we give ourselves room to go through the process. our society has put such a tight box around death that many of us get stuck in a perpetual state of muted grief over those we have lost, and even over significant things we have lost, like a stolen childhood, or friendships. somebody dies, and we stuff our feelings inside and push ahead. we experience huge losses, and we manage in crisis or survival mode, desperate to appear to be fine. christian clichés come to our minds to tide us over. “they are in a better place.” “they are with the Lord now.” “we should be joyful and not sad.” “i cried, and now it’s time to move on.”

“Jesus wept.” he mourned over his friend, and also over jerusalem. he longed to see his Bride, as he walked the face of the earth to redeem us- grieving for our sin and state of pain. When Jesus rose again, he took the time to present himself to the doubtful man, thomas, who didn’t fully believe he had resurrected- and might not have fully believed he was truly dead, either. Jesus blessed him in his disbelief.

i am grieving right now for my grandmother- and i’ve been down this road of grief before. this time, it’s not a dramatic shocking experience, and though I had anticipated her passing, now that she has died, an actual process of grief has begun. it’s not simple or tied to her alone.

for those of us on this road of grief- and who are reminded by the christmas tree, of those who are no longer alive- let us give ourselves a little bit of grace this christmas, drawn from the tears that Jesus wept, to just BE, without having to rush through anything, or feel any particular way. let us place our hands in His wounds- and handle the things of the person who is gone, and look at the pictures we have of them, and remember the stories they left us with. let us go visit the house that they lived in, or do those things that indulge our senses to remember. it’s okay. you lost someone you love, and you still love them just as much. there is no goal in grief, to get to acceptance as fast as possible. at least, i don’t think there is.

God, i am so emotional and i cry a lot. Sometimes i think i grieve over too small things, for too long, and too sadly. help me to be still and find comfort in you, to sing that song that has gotten me down this road before: “i will cast all my cares upon you and lay all of my burdens down at your feet. and anytime, i don’t know what to do- i will cast all my cares upon you.”

teach us how to touch your wounds, so that we might believe.
“weeping may last for the night. but joy comes in the morning.” psalm 30.5