When grief strikes, few of us really know how we are going to respond to it, or what coping mechanisms we may have to pull out of our hats to handle it. In my adult years, I’ve lost many close relatives and friends, almost all my aunts and uncles, a baby (a 2nd trimester miscarriage), both my parents, and now, my husband. I can tell you this: As every relationship is different and unique, the grief that accompanies the loss of each relationship is just as unique. And, of course, the deeper the relationship, the deeper the grief.
I lost Anthony eight weeks ago, and his passing has caused a depth of pain I have never known before...gut wrenching pain. A few weeks ago, I was talking to a dear friend whom I've known since my kids were babies. I was telling her how terribly sad I was feeling and she said, "Yes, you truly know the meaning of the word agony now." As soon as she used that word...agony...I knew she, too, had been to the depths of her own pain. She has actually been able to describe, with words I would use, what I have been feeling and experiencing. (You know who you are, my friend, and I thank you for your honesty and candor in sharing your darkest moments with me.) It has been a comfort to know that someone else has reacted or responded to a devastating loss and the crippling nature of grief in a manner so similar to my own because it makes me feel normal, at a time when nothing is really normal! She really gets it. And, she has not only survived it...At this point in her life, she thrives. That gives me great hope.
I have done my best to share this journey with all of you...throughout the course of Anthony’s illness, his death, and, now, my grieving process. My hope is that someone out there will read something I write and feel a little less alone and a lot more understood. I realize that every time I post, I am taking a risk...a risk that someone will think I’m crazy or strange or any number of things a person can think about someone who puts their heart out there. But, I am feeling so much more confident in doing so because my friend, someone I care for and trust, has taken that risk with me. It’s like Anthony has spoken through her. It feels like he has let me know, through her, that I’m perfectly fine doing it my way.
For the past several weeks, I have gone to grief support meetings and I have listened to strangers pour their hearts out. The first meeting I attended was not what I expected, so I went to a different group, at a different time. I have heard people describe how their grief completely paralyzed them to the point of not even being able to leave their homes for up to two or three months. Some of these saints continue to go to meetings (many for years after their losses) just so they can share with people like me who are suffering the gaping wounds of fresh, raw grief. They are there to support, without judgement. They are there to give hope to the most brokenhearted...hope and courage to continue living life. God bless them! I remember singing a song at church several years ago called No Longer Strangers. The Refrain is, “No longer strangers, no longer lost and alone! No longer strangers, now we are saints! We are one in the house of God!” (David Haas) I have felt the Spirit of those words at these meetings.
Something else has happened...I have returned to work, four days a week. I didn’t think I was ready, but sometimes necessity dictates what you end up doing. I have to say, when I am with the kids, making music, hearing them sing, playing my guitar, it feels good. I actually laugh! I hear Anthony talking to me when I am there, saying things to encourage me if I start to feel sad. Amazingly, he can still make me smile when I hear him say those special things to me that only he would say. And, I feel incredibly loved by the kids and my co-workers. Everyone has been so gentle, so kind, and so supportive. I feel Anthony’s love through all of them.
I have also been doing some reading about cultural differences, traditions, and rituals regarding the grieving process. I have discovered (not just through reading, but through my own experience) that our society does little to honor the sacred nature of suffering through grief. In our corner of the world, people are expected to “get on with life” as soon as the funeral is over and the dead are buried. Hey, if you can do that, more power to you. I am not ashamed to say that I can not do it that way. And, if anyone out there is suffering a loss and grieving so deeply that sometimes it’s hard to just take your next breath, don’t you dare apologize! There is no wrong way to grieve.
Anthony taught me to honor myself and my feelings. He stood by me (and sometimes held me up) through some very difficult times. He never, ever judged me. He protected me and always respected my feelings. He knew exactly how I needed to be loved and always wanted me to be happy. Before he passed away, he told me he knew I was going to suffer greatly when he died, and he knew it was going to take a very long time for me to heal. It didn't matter how many times I told him not to worry or how hard I tried to assure him that I would be OK. He knew, when the time came, that I would suffer through a period when nothing could console me. He was right. I am suffering. (I would seriously be worried about myself if I weren't!) I cry every single day, sometimes so hard that I gasp for air and my chest and my stomach hurt. Sometimes, I scream at the top of my lungs. Other times, I sob with deep guttural moans. And, most days, I feel as though my heart is shattered into a million tiny pieces and it will never, ever get put back together again.
The truth is, when our hearts are broken and we are drenched in tears, cold and shivering, we feel naked and vulnerable...like a helpless baby. But, some people are afraid to admit that. Perhaps they think it’s a little too messy...or pathetic...or weak. But, I couldn't disagree more. You see, I believe it takes a hell of a lot more strength and courage to survive when we’re scared, naked, and cold. In order to rise up out of our grief and pain, we must honor the sacred nature of suffering by digging deep and finding our soul...that place where God resides...It is there, and only there, that healing can begin.
