“The hardest thing I have ever done was to help somebody let
go when I really wanted her to stay.”
These simple, yet profound, words
were shared by my cousin, Annette the day after her mother died following a
long illness. Last week death became personal in
the Plocher household, where Terry and I both deal with death and grief
professionally on a regular, if not daily, basis. Terry’s 47 year old cousin, Jamie, died
suddenly and unexpectedly in Colorado.
My cousin, Mary Lou, died after a long and courageous battle with
illness in Southern California. Now I
revisit issues and questions that are often discussed in my visits with
families in our AfterCare program. Only
now, these questions are personal:
Which is easier, losing someone
suddenly or having time to prepare for the death?
My personal and professional experience
teaches me that death hurts regardless of the circumstances. Some people find comfort in knowing that
their loved one went quickly and did not suffer. However, this scenario can leave family and
friends reeling in great shock or traumatized by being so suddenly torn from
their loved one by death. Those who
walk the journey of chronic or terminal illness with a loved one may similarly
be traumatized by the suffering their loved one endures until the release of
death comes. Yet, they have the
advantage of time to put affairs in order, speak the words of love they long to share and complete or
resolve any unfinished business in the relationship.
I am inclined to think that comparing sudden
death and lingering death is rather like comparing apples and oranges. They are
both fruit, but very different. Sudden
death and lingering death – they are both excruciating experiences of loss and
grief, yet each very unique.
How important is validation of the
loss?
The
beginning of healing from the pain of grief is validation of the loss you have
experienced. It begins with opening to
the reality of my own loss. I honor the
pain this loss has caused me by finding ways to express what my loved one meant
to me and expressing the pain it causes me when I sit with the knowledge that I
will never see her again. I express my
pain outside myself, both privately and publicly, which is what it means to
mourn. In doing so, I open myself to
receive the comfort, care and empathy of others. My loss is now validated by others. “I heal, in part, by allowing others to
express their love for me. By choosing
to invite others into my journey, I move toward health and healing. If I hide from others, I hide from healing.” (from Understanding
Your Grief: Ten Essential Touchstones for Finding Hope and Healing Your Heart
by Alan Wolfelt, Ph.D.) Moving from
shock and denial to opening to the pain of my loss and to the care of others is
the beginning of the journey of grief.
Terry never met Mary Lou and had not fully
appreciated how much this loss meant to me.
I had to take some initiative to share that with him and to open to the
care he then could show me. Opening to
the pain of our loss is never easy, but it is important.
How do I help someone who is
mourning?
The last time I spoke to my cousin I
promised her I would embrace her family, especially her daughters to whom I am
closest) with care and comfort after her death. Typically, I would encourage people to simply
be there with a hug, a shoulder, a hot dish, a special remembrance. Now I am frustrated by my desire to hug, to
hold, to cry with –because so many miles separate us. I trust the Lord to receive all the love I
hold in my heart for my cousins and touch them with the assurance that they are
not alone in this time. I know I will
find ways to give my love and prayers hands and feet in the weeks and months to
come. This is the question I would
encourage you to consider when you want to help someone who is grieving: How can you take the love and concern you
have for that person and make it real?
Give it hands and feet? Meet them
where they are. Accept them as they
are. Don’t try to fix them. Listen.
Learn. Love.
Does the pain ever go away? Will I ever get over it?
When a loved one dies our lives are forever
changed. In that sense, no, we never “get
over it.” However, it is possible to choose
to live even though our loved one has died.
With some help from our friends and a willingness to engage what arguably
will be the hardest work we will ever
face – the work of grief- we can integrate this painful experience into our
life. The intense feelings of grief can
soften with time. The waves of grief
that once knocked us right off our feet come less frequently and hit us with
less impact. “Mourning never really
ends. Only as time goes on, it erupts
less frequently.” (Anonymous)
As you are able, allow yourself to embrace
hope. The best expression of hope I have
read is by Jean Kerr who writes, “Hope is the feeling you have that the feeling
you have is not permanent.” Embrace the
hope that it won’t hurt this bad forever.
Embrace the hope that God still has good things planned for you. Embrace the hope that there is still beauty
in the world, even if the depression you feel today is coloring your world in
shades of gray. And above all, embrace the
hope that we will one day be reunited with our loved ones in eternity, by
grace, through faith.
Mary Lou’s daddy died in a hunting accident when
she was just 7 years old. She “grew up”
in my grandparent’s home, playing with my mom as they were nearly the same
age. So many long years she missed her
Daddy. While our hearts ache to lose her
we believe there is a joyous reunion in heaven taking place. Mary Lou, now free from pain and the
constraints of this life is once again
with her mom and her daddy.
Grace and
Peace,
Robyn