Embracing Grief

Gerald and Lydia Sittser and their children were driving through Iowa in 1991 when a drunk driver hit them at 85 mph. Gerald lost his mother, his wife and a four-year-old child in moment. He sat beside the isolated highway and watched them die. He eventually wrote the following in a book entitled A Grace Disguised: How the Soul Grows Through Loss:

“Catastrophic loss by definition precludes recovery. It will transform us or destroy us, but it will never leave us the same… It is not true that we become less through our loss – unless we allow the loss to make us less, grinding our soul down until there is nothing left. Loss can also make us more. I did not get over my loved ones; rather, I absorbed the loss into my life until it became part of who I am. Sorrow took up permanent residence in my soul and enlarged it… One learns the pain of others by suffering one’s own pain, by turning inside oneself, by finding one’s own soul… The soul is elastic, like a balloon. It can grow larger through suffering.

Life is characterized by loss. The weather changes. Cars break down. Favorite shows go off the air.  We move into a new house. We leave a community and lose friends. Pets die. We lose our youth and our health. Then there is the loss of a marriage, of a parent, of a vocation, a dream, a life. Though life is full of loss, it’s also full of new life. Age brings things that youth can’t. Some weather changes are good. We can enjoy new cars, houses, friends, pets, shows. The losses that threaten to overwhelm can enlarge us, deepen us, offer us something unexpectedly blessed on the other side. But the unexpected blessing follows the loss.  Hope follows grief. Character follows the furnace in which that character was forged.

 The forging process may be hard, but it's necessary. Here are several principles worth keeping in mind.

Everything is After

It was after
 talking with seniors about

the genius of Huxley and Orwell,

chatting with the staff over bag lunches about

last night’s game, checking my emails,

showing a team of boys how to run a

better out-of-bounds play, and driving home

through a northern Michigan winter wonderland

that I learned Dad had “taken a turn for the worse”

while the rest of my day unfolded as if

nothing had changed.

It was after
 the quick trip to the store before scrambling

to visit my fading father that I walked into a kitchen

where my family had also turned worse, immobilized by

the whisper from the telephone announcing that 

everything had changed.

It was after
his funeral that we drove to his grave,

achingly numb, tossing red dirt into a six-foot abyss, 

doing everything - anything - with him for the last time,

retreating to church for the strength of faith and family,

facing nothing and everything alone. 

Now everything is after.

- on the 11^th anniversary of my father’s death.

God of Wanderers and Wilderness

Jacob left Beersheba and set out for Haran. When he reached a certain place, he stopped for the night because the sun had set. Taking one of the stones there, he put it under his head and lay down to sleep. He had a dream in which he saw a stairway resting on the earth, with its top reaching to heaven, and the angels of God were ascending and descending on it. 

There above it stood the LORD, and he said: "I am the LORD, the God of your father Abraham and the God of Isaac... I am with you and will watch over you wherever you go, and I will bring you back to this land. I will not leave you until I have done what I have promised you." 

When Jacob awoke from his sleep, he thought, "Surely the LORD is in this place, and I was not aware of it." He was afraid and said, "How awesome is this place! This is none other than the house of God; this is the gate of heaven." – Genesis 28

At this point in his life, Jacob is headed backwards. God had called his grandfather Abraham to Beersheba (a land of water, wells, leisure, and peace) from Haran (“parched”), one of the two ancient capitals the Mesopotamians had dedicated to their Moon god. 

Between Beersheba and Haran, Jacob settles down for a cold, lonely night beneath the light of the very moon his grandfather left behind. 

While Jacob is in the desert between Beersheba and Haran, God meets him.

For All Who Climb Dunes

Each step Vince and I took in the sand
last Monday we slid down the dune a little
but never enough to stop us, and each step
took us slowly, beautifully, up.

Not like the time I first climbed
a different dune without my father,

when six feet took six years,
and the sand of my steps filled his grave
as I staggered up a haunting hill that
crumpled with every step.

Even as my son and I conquered
this Memorial Day climb
I grieved for a young friend who was that same day finding no solace in memories,
her steps filling her cousin's grave as she numbly climbed a
steep, lonely, and crumpling path.

Vince and I climb.
We sit.
We rest.
We start again.
We ache.
We persevere.

This much I can do with you, too,
my weary, heartbroken friend who also climbs dunes.


(For TG, climber of dunes)

The Last Tea Party

From my friend Gloria, who is posting about her journey through grief as her mother succumbed to a brain tumor:

"Mom and dad stayed at the base at the guest house since we had such a small house. There are several things that stick out to me during her stay. As I remember, it feels like such a long time ago. There are times when I think I should have been a better host. I should have taken care of mom better during her stay. I should have spent more time with her, asking her questions that now I have. 

While mom was visiting I was suffering for a terrible toothache that in the end needed to be pulled. Mom not only went with me to the dentist, she took care of me when I came home. She made me jello and took care of Carmelinda! I remember lying in bed and hearing Carmelinda (age 5 ½) and mom having a “tea party” in the next room and Carmelinda asking mom, “Grandma, so how are you doing?” Mom responded, “Well, I’m doing alright!” I remember wanting to cry, realizing that this would be the last tea party they would have together.

It's a good journal, full of honesty, pain, and love. You can read more at gautechich.blogspot.com.