Today when I started my car to warm it up, one of our songs came on. It made my morning so happy. Then as I was driving to work, I saw an X in the cloud with a rainbow! Next this album titled memories with family popped up on my “for you” and included so many pictures of Richard. Last when I looked out my window at work I had a giant x in the sky. I think these are all messages from Richard. I believe he is letting me know he is close by. I also think he is letting me know that he is proud of us!
There is no simple answer to give to a person who has lost someone they love. Every day we meet with people who are dealing with a mother, father, brother sister, cousin, or friend who has passed. You would think that we would find answers, know the right words to say. Yet there is nothing we can say or do that will remove the pain they are experiencing. We recognize that our role is to simply help families deal with the final arrangements. By serving and guiding in a difficult time. There are resources which can help us gain perspective. One such resource is from a Reddit user called /u/GSnow. He identifies himself as an old man. A man who has loved and lost many times. /u/GSnow responds to someone who lost a child. His heartfelt plea is wise, built from the experience of losing many people.
“Alright, here goes. I’m old. What that means is that I’ve survived (so far) and a lot of people I’ve known and loved did not. I’ve lost friends, best friends, acquaintances, co-workers, grandparents, mom, relatives, teachers, mentors, students, neighbors, and a host of other folks. I have no children, and I can’t imagine the pain it must be to lose a child. But here’s my two cents.
I wish I could say you get used to people dying. I never did. I don’t want to. It tears a hole through me whenever somebody I love dies, no matter the circumstances. But I don’t want it to “not matter”. I don’t want it to be something that just passes.
My scars are a testament to the love and the relationship that I had for and with that person. And if the scar is deep, so was the love. So be it. Scars are a testament to life. Scars are a testament that I can love deeply and live deeply and be cut, or even gouged, and that I can heal and continue to live and continue to love. And the scar tissue is stronger than the original flesh ever was. Scars are a testament to life. Scars are only ugly to people who can’t see.
As for grief, you’ll find it comes in waves. When the ship is first wrecked, you’re drowning, with wreckage all around you. Everything floating around you reminds you of the beauty and the magnificence of the ship that was, and is no more. And all you can do is float. You find some piece of the wreckage and you hang on for a while. Maybe it’s some physical thing. Maybe it’s a happy memory or a photograph. Maybe it’s a person who is also floating. For a while, all you can do is float. Stay alive.
In the beginning, the waves are 100 feet tall and crash over you without mercy. They come 10 seconds apart and don’t even give you time to catch your breath. All you can do is hang on and float. After a while, maybe weeks, maybe months, you’ll find the waves are still 100 feet tall, but they come further apart. When they come, they still crash all over you and wipe you out. But in between, you can breathe, you can function. You never know what’s going to trigger the grief. It might be a song, a picture, a street intersection, the smell of a cup of coffee. It can be just about anything…and the wave comes crashing. But in between waves, there is life.
Somewhere down the line, and it’s different for everybody, you find that the waves are only 80 feet tall. Or 50 feet tall. And while they still come, they come further apart. You can see them coming. An anniversary, a birthday, or Christmas, or landing at O’Hare. You can see it coming, for the most part, and prepare yourself. And when it washes over you, you know that somehow you will, again, come out the other side. Soaking wet, sputtering, still hanging on to some tiny piece of the wreckage, but you’ll come out. Take it from an old guy. The waves never stop coming, and somehow you don’t really want them to. But you learn that you’ll survive them. And other waves will come. And you’ll survive them too. If you’re lucky, you’ll have lots of scars from lots of loves. And lots of shipwrecks.”
I say it a lot – I am so thankful I have given myself permission to mourn over this past year. Not a day goes by that I don’t think about how much I miss Richard. He is never far from my thoughts. But I truly believe that I am healing my heart because I have not pushed down my feelings. I know it makes some people uncomfortable and others probably wish I would stop being so open about this grief journey. But how others perceive how I’m handling my grief is not my problem. I’m not saying that to be negative; I’m stating it as a fact.
Readers, if you are in the midst of grief, I hope you will give yourself time and space to mourn in ways that heal your heart and soul. If you are supporting someone who is mourning, continue to support them as they travel their road if grief.
Today I was giving my friend Andrea a tour of Lebanon. We shopped on the square, road around Cumberland, and cruised down West Main.
I shared the story of how I used to meet friends, including Richard, at the Main Street Station (next door to Henderson’s Florist). At first we were just friends, but eventually we started having more romantic feelings. Before we announced that we were moving to this new phase of our relationship to our friends, we would hold hands under the table 😂. Andrea said – “ you should add this story to your blog.”
This afternoon as I was catching up on my daily devotional reading, the reading below came up. So for these two reasons, I decided to share this sweet story with you.
Death is but crossing the world, as friends do the seas; they live in one another still. For they must needs be present, that love and live in that which is omnipresent. In this divine glass, they see face to face; and their converse is free, as well as pure. William Penn 1693
Death Is Nothing At All
by Henry Scott-Holland
Death nothing at all. It does not count. I have only slipped away into the next room. Nothing has happened.
Everything remains exactly as it was. I am I, and you are you, and the old life that we lived so fondly together is untouched, unchanged. Whatever we were to each other, that we are still.
Call me by the old familiar name. Speak of me in the easy way which you always used. Put no difference into your tone. Wear no forced air of solemnity or sorrow.
Laugh as we always laughed at the little jokes that we enjoyed together. Play, smile, think of me, pray for me. Let my name be ever the household word that it always was. Let it be spoken without an effort, without the ghost of a shadow upon it.
Life means all that it ever meant. It is the same as it ever was. There is absolute and unbroken continuity. What is this death but a negligible accident?
Why should I be out of mind because I am out of sight? I am but waiting for you, for an interval, somewhere very near, just round the corner.
All is well. Nothing is hurt; nothing is lost. One brief moment and all will be as it was before. How we shall laugh at the trouble of parting when we meet again!
Up until a year or so ago, I had not realized how hurtful and judgmental the word “committed” sounds when saying a person committed suicide. My friend Andrea taught me we should say the person “died by suicide” if we feel the need to state the cause of death. We need to educate ourselves to not use words that create more hurt. Click on the link above to read more about this.
Grief is hard any time of year, but the holidays can feel particularly brutal. Grieving people would love your help & support this holiday season. Here are some ways you might help. And if you’d like some help educating friends & family on the best ways to support you, this list is for you too:
1️⃣ Understand that it’s OK for a person to be sad – even during the holidays: Telling someone they shouldn’t be sad only tells them that they can’t be honest with you about how they’re feeling.
2️⃣ Check your foundation: When you begin with the understanding that nothing you do can make this season “good” for them, you’re off to a solid start.
3️⃣ Let the grieving person lead: Don’t make assumptions about how they’re handling the holidays. If you have a concern, ask them how they feel about it, then follow their lead.
4️⃣ Don’t criticize how they’re handling the holidays: The holidays are already difficult without people judging how they’re doing or telling them they aren’t being festive enough.
5️⃣ Ask them what might feel good this season: They may not have an answer, but being asked is always appreciated. Remember to ASK FIRST before offering your own ideas.
6️⃣ Watch your language: Reminding grieving people to be grateful isn’t helpful. Instead, meet your grieving person exactly where they are.Mirror their reality back to them.
7️⃣ Share a memory: Don’t be afraid to share memories about their person. Use their name in conversation.
8️⃣ Invite them out to things, but don’t force it: Include grieving people in your holiday plans and invite them out to low-key things too. Accept their answer if they say no.
9️⃣ Remember that people with terminally ill loved ones are also grieving: Check in, support them, and include them in your plans.
🔟 Raise a toast to those who are not present and say their names: Acknowledging who is missing really helps.
Remember: There is no right or wrong way to do the holiday season. It’s important to reach out & connect. It’s OK to be feel awkward. You don’t need to be perfect, just present.
Looking for more ways to support someone? Visit refugeingrief.com or check out our other #RIGGriefSupportTips!
I am thankful that I’ve allowed myself to mourn over the past 13 months. I really think that our society does this completely wrong. We want people to mourn a few days or weeks, then “put the big girl panties on” and move on. That line of thinking is not healthy and does not lead to healing. I am healing as I openly share my grief and give myself permission to mourn. If you are living with the death of a loved one, I pray you will give yourself permission to mourn in ways that bring healing to your heart and soul!
I definitely needed this reminder today. Yesterday was tough! I felt overwhelmed by life and my grief. I do know that intentionally being grateful is helpful.
Reader, I hope you find ways to experience love today. If you have helpful tips to remind yourself to have a grateful heart, feel free to share them here.
Gina’s thoughts on life, death, and in between 