Grief

Grief has many faces.

Grief includes not only those who have lost a loved one, but also includes many different types of loss. I see grief all around me in those I come in contact with daily. There is the man who has lost his job and does not know how he will feed his family. There is the couple who try desperately to conceive a child, but are not successful. There is the family who lost their home and all their possessions in a fire. There is the mom and dad who must struggle daily watching their child suffer with an incurable illness. There is the single mother trying to raise her children on her own. There is the man whose wife walked out on him for someone else. There are people of all ages dealing with chronic pain or illness.

Put simply, grief is a reaction to any significant loss.

There are typically five stages to grief. All of the stages may not be experienced or they might be experienced out of order:

Denial, disbelief, numbness
Anger, blaming others
Bargaining (for instance "If I am cured of this cancer, I will never smoke again.")
Depressed mood, sadness, and crying
Acceptance, coming to terms


When Josh passed away, I started a private journal and wrote down some of my feelings that I did not wish to share publicly at the time. I titled this private journal "My Journey Through Grief". I specifically made reference to the term "through" because even in the beginning before the shock had completely worn off, I knew that I wanted to make my way "through" this process and not lose myself somewhere along the way. I have had the faith from the very beginning that if not in this world, at least in the world to come, I would no longer feel the deep and overwhelming sadness that comes from losing a child. I have clung to that hope through my darkest nights and longest days, and I still believe it with all my heart.

Here is my initial entry in that journal, dated September 27th, just 11 days after Josh's death:


I have started this blog to chronicle my journey through grief. The word "through" is key here, because I believe that I will make it through to the other side of this most un-natural valley in which I am travelling and will be a better person because of all I have learned along the way. It is my desire to put words to my feelings and my thoughts and somehow make sense of the jumble that is in my head right now. I hope this will help me now as I make this journey, but that it will also help other's who must travel their own road of grief. Each road of grief is unique and must be travelled ultimately alone, for no one can suffer for the individual who has lost, but rather that individual must find their own way, with God's help, to the other side. The support of those who love and care, sustain the individual on that journey, but they must face it alone.

Also, from the very beginning, I felt compelled to write my feelings and thoughts down; not only in private, for those things I just was not yet able to share, but also to share publicly what feelings I could, as I walked this path. Initially, this was a conscious effort on my part. What I wanted to do was keep Josh and my feelings to myself and not share them. But, I felt that if in some way I could share with others this process, that something good might come from all the tragedy. As I began to share, an amazing thing began to happen. I began the healing process. I know that at times if I go back and read what I have written, it is not apparent that there is healing taking place, but slowly, subtly, it is there.

Walking this road has also opened the door for me to communicate with others who are grieving. Just as there are many different circumstances that bring folks to the point of grief, there are also many different faces of grief. I talked to one lady who is very wise, loving, helpful and kind who does not cry over the loss of her husband. Sometimes, she said she feels as if there is something wrong with her. However, after communicating with her a bit more, I found out that her husband had suffered a long, drawn out illness and they had actually cried many tears together anticipating his departure. When that time finally came, she had finished crying. That does not make her grief "wrong". Neither is it wrong that she has found happiness and fulfillment after her husband's death.

I have also talked to a lady who lost her son, and she counts the days since his death, even though it has been a number of years. She cries a lot still and has trouble sleeping at night. Is she wrong to count the days, the weeks, the months and the years? Is she wrong to continue to cry over her loss? No. It is the way she makes her journey through grief.

There are blogs I read on the internet written by parents who have lost their children and who struggle to put life back together while feeling the deep void of their loss. They contemplate what is now the "new" normal. Although each story is different in so many ways, there are always things that strike me as I read these entries. I realize that the things I feel and what I am going through are "normal" for someone who has lost a child.

I guess my point is that grief is individual and can't be rushed. Just because one person is able to pick up the pieces and appear to move forward in a short amount of time, does not mean that is how everyone will be able to handle grief. Even though I have suffered the loss of a child, I still have not walked in the shoes of someone else who has also suffered that loss. They endure things that I may be able to understand in part, but I will never fully comprehend. Grief is individualized.

I have also found that bereavement, grief, and loss make many people very uncomfortable. Some will sever friendships rather than try to find a way to reach the person who is grieving. Others are afraid to talk about the loss and feel uncomfortable if it is mentioned. I try to remember to tell people "It's ok if something you say makes me cry, because the tears are part of the healing."

And, it is ok.

My husband, whom I am so thankful for, in the beginning of our grief, felt frustrated because he wanted to be able to "make it better". I learned to say to him, "It's ok."

"There is nothing you can do to make the pain go away, but you can hold me while I cry."

I think I needed to verbalize to him that I did not expect him to be able to take away my pain or stop my tears. When he heard that, he was able to just hold me and not feel like he needed to do anything else.

I also believe that one's approach in dealing with grief is individualized when it comes to receiving outside help through counselling and medication. It amazes me now as I look back and realize that Josh technically had not even passed on (he was still connected to life support) when I made the decision that I would face this grief "head on". While I believe professional counselling is greatly beneficial and I am not against it, I felt that I needed to face this grief, at least initially alone with God's help. Once again, that does not make someone else wrong who seeks counselling.

My pastor was good to come by and talk to me several times immediately after Josh's death. He has been good to check up on me periodically throughout the year to make sure that I am doing "all right". We have had some wonderful conversations and I have been able to share with him what is on my heart and what I am learning. Other than those half a dozen or so visits, I have chosen not to get counselling.

I also chose not to use sleeping pills or alchohol to help relax me. I certainly understand the need for those who do choose medication to help them sleep or help them cope with the trauma, but once again, for me, I needed to face this head on. I have learned that taking supplements with Calcium and Magnesium is a natural way to help me relax leaving my mind clear and my heart open for this journey that I am on.


As the journey continues, there are still days when I just find it impossible to function, but those days are farther and farther apart. Most days find me living "the new normal" and finding my way in this world without Josh. Does that mean I miss him less? Never. What it means is that I have made it through all the "firsts" of the first year living without him. It means that in the beginning I thought I could not even take another breath, but by God's grace, I did. Each breath showed me that I could live just one minute at a time. Those minutes turned into hours. Those hours turned into days, days into weeks, weeks into months and a year finally passed. Now I know. I know that God will give me the strength to face each second and take each breath. I have the confidence that with Him all things are possible.

Here is an entry from that private journal also dated September 27th:

My heart seemed to die with my sons. Everything was like a fog and my heart beat so slowly. Today my heart is racing. Panic. Fear. More Panic. How can life go on? How can things be the same? How am I suppose to eat, sleep...............how am I suppose to breathe? The day to day must continue. There are meals to prepare, laudry to wash, house to clean, animals to tend to...........but how am I suppose to have the presence of mind to remember how to do those things. I start something and walk away. I go back and try to continue. I can't. I come back again and again and inch by inch, complete a task that should only take me minutes. My chest feels tight. My shoulders and back hurt. My thoughts race. I panic thinking the panic won't go away and that brings more panic.

And another entry:

Each thought seems disconnected, foreign, jumbled up inside my head. The thoughts come slowly at times, and then quickly. They are like pieces of a puzzle that are all mixed up, some of them turned over, other's spilling onto the floor and I must make an effort to pick them up. I am trying to arrange them...............trying to sort them out by shape and color, and put the one's with an edge in a seperate pile. I can't deal with the edges right now. Perhaps I will save the one's with edges for last. Or maybe, I will find the corner pieces and use them as a starting point. Someday I will be able to stop sorting, and start fitting all the pieces together. Then the picture will become clear, and front and center will be my heart.


I also felt tremendous pain over how Josh died and could not get peace due to the circumstance surrounding his death. I believe, although I will never be able to accept how he died, that I have come to a place where I have found peace. Since the one year anniversary of his death, I have come to the point where I have accepted that he was here on this earth for the length of time that God intended him to be. He learned everything he needed to learn, helped all those he was intended to help, loved all those he was meant to love, and completed all his tasks. While I do not believe that the way he died was an act of God, but rather an act of violence perpetuated by those with intent to do evil, I do believe that it was his time to go. That does not make the loss any less for those of us who know him and miss him, but it brings me peace knowing that he did not leave anything unfinished and now he lives where there is no heartache. I can rejoice in the fact that he has learned and achieved all that he was meant to achieve and though it appears to us that his time was "cut short", he in fact, completed his journey.

Throughout this year of grief my heart has often cried out to God in prayer. Some of those prayers have been written down. Some of those prayers have been spoken. Some of those prayers have come simply from my mind. Then, there are those prayers that I was never able to actually put words to. Those are the prayers that came from a heart that was so broken that thoughts and words could not be formulated but rather rose heavenword with each heart-wrenching tear as I lay curled in a fetal position and opened my heart to the Only One who can heal such pain. I took comfort in the words of the Psalmist many days and nights as I found strength in the fact that God is BIG ENOUGH to allow us to express our hearts to him with all the imperfections that we have. I came to realize that God is BIG ENOUGH to understand that we are limited in our faith and understanding and that when we cry out to Him with the "Why" and the "Where are you?" and "What were You thinking" and "How could you do this to me?" that he just loves us even more and wraps us in His arms and helps us get through it. He doesn't judge or codemn us for the pain that we are already going through because HE IS BIGGER THAN THAT!

Look at the words written by the Psalmist in Psalm 88. I have copied it here from THE MESSAGE transaltion. However, read it in any translation that you choose and note the words, the tone, the inflection and the pain. I find it amazing that these Psalms were preserved throughout history showing us the heartfelt pain that the writer(s) suffered, how they cried out to God and were HONEST about how they felt, and how they took comfort in the fact that God loved them and was there for them. These verses show me that GOD IS BIG ENOUGH and LOVING ENOUGH and UNDERSTANDING ENOUGH to handle our outbursts of hurt and even anger.

Psalm 88 (The Message)

Psalm 88
A Korah Prayer of Heman
1-9 God, you're my last chance of the day. I spend the night on my knees before you.
Put me on your salvation agenda;
take notes on the trouble I'm in.
I've had my fill of trouble;
I'm camped on the edge of hell.
I'm written off as a lost cause,
one more statistic, a hopeless case.
Abandoned as already dead,
one more body in a stack of corpses,
And not so much as a gravestone—
I'm a black hole in oblivion.
You've dropped me into a bottomless pit,
sunk me in a pitch-black abyss.
I'm battered senseless by your rage,
relentlessly pounded by your waves of anger.
You turned my friends against me,
made me horrible to them.
I'm caught in a maze and can't find my way out,
blinded by tears of pain and frustration.

9-12 I call to you, God; all day I call.
I wring my hands, I plead for help.
Are the dead a live audience for your miracles?
Do ghosts ever join the choirs that praise you?
Does your love make any difference in a graveyard?
Is your faithful presence noticed in the corridors of hell?
Are your marvelous wonders ever seen in the dark,
your righteous ways noticed in the Land of No Memory?

13-18 I'm standing my ground, God, shouting for help,
at my prayers every morning, on my knees each daybreak.
Why, God, do you turn a deaf ear?
Why do you make yourself scarce?
For as long as I remember I've been hurting;
I've taken the worst you can hand out, and I've had it.
Your wildfire anger has blazed through my life;
I'm bleeding, black-and-blue.
You've attacked me fiercely from every side,
raining down blows till I'm nearly dead.
You made lover and neighbor alike dump me;
the only friend I have left is Darkness.

What I love about Psalms is that it is so REAL and yet the answer to dealing with the pain is there as well. Over and over again in the Psalms there is a pattern of expressing pain, grief, anger, suffering and then the Psalmist begins turns a corner and begins to think about and dwell on the positive. He begins to praise God for His goodness. He begins to talk about nature and how beautiful it is. He begins to think about all his blessings. Therein lies the key to facing grief and dealing with loss. It's ok for one to express how they feel. In fact, I believe it is necessary to be honest about those feelings but then we must also recount all the blessings that we have.

At the risk of being misunderstood by others who might not want to think about grief, bereavment or loss................

At the risk of being misunderstood by those who might think that I write about these things in an attempt to seek attention or sympathy................

At the risk of being misunderstood by those who might think I am handling grief incorrectly..............

At the risk of feeling vulnerable by pouring out my heart to the world...........

I will continue to share my Journey Through Grief in hopes that something said here might encourage someone along the way just as others have encouraged me by sharing their journey.

To all of you who have held my hand and walked along beside me throughout this journey, I thank you from the bottom of my heart. I love you.

Faith says we will make it THROUGH and there is JOY on the other side.

And as I end this entry, I leave you with one final post from my private journal:

I am learning that although the pain never goes away, comfort and pain can coexist. Sadness and happiness can coexist. Peace and turmoil can coexist. Tears and smiles can coexist. Strength and weakness can coexist. Life and death can coexist.

Originally posted October 3, 2009