Maybe you are tired of reading about this experience. I don't know. But it is where I am at and it is what I think about. I just hope that something I says resonates with your experience and brings comfort and peace or prepares your for a time when you will go through a time of grieving.
I have determined that grief is a solitary experience. There is no person on this earth who is going to experience it in exactly the same way. The Lord is the only one who knows exactly what I am going through. I think this may be why so many people, including myself, find comfort in the 23rd Psalm:
"The LORD is my sheperd, I shall not want.
He makes me lie down in green pastures; He leads me beside quiet waters.
He restores my soul; He guides me in the paths of righteousness for His name's sake.
Even though I walk through the valley of the shadow of death, I fear no evil, for You are with me; Your rod and Your staff, they comfort me.
You prepare a table before me in the presence of my enemies; You annointed my head with oil; My cup overflows.
Surely goodness and lovingkindness will follow me all the days of my life, And I will dwell in the house of the Lord forever. " Psalm 23: 1-6
Right now, my mother and my two sisters are all grieving the loss of the same person. But in many ways, we grieve alone and cannot share with each other what we are going through. I had a conversation with my Mom yesterday in which she told me what she is going through. It was raw and meaningful. And it hurt. But it was what I needed to hear from her. I needed to know what she is going through, what her experience is. I needed to know that she does not have the capacity to go through my grief with me. She even conveyed that she does not know what it must be like to lose a father. It is far to complicated to explain on this blog, but while she did lose her father about 15 years ago, her grieving was short and was more of a relief after a lifelong turmultous and strained relationship with him.
What she has lost is her best friend; the lover of her youth, her companion through so much of her adult life. I can't fathom that pain. What I have lost is my father. Same person, different relationship. Different grief.
She said, and admitted quickly that it came out wrong, that none of us girls knows what it is like to lose a husband. As soon as she said it, she knew she struck a nerve. Again, it's not the same. I did lose a husband and a best friend. He is not dead and he still sort of haunts me. It is the time of year where I get the annual letter from him. I dread it every year and am always relieved when it finally comes and I can finally get it over with. He comes to me in my dreams and I wake up wanting to scream. I hate it. In many ways, death would be easier to deal with because there is an end. I still face the consequences. I still face the fact that someday, he is going to get out of prison and he is going to try to enter our lives again, my children are going to hurt and I will be picking up the peices again. And that is something that NO ONE can possibly understand but me and the Lord.
The solution instead, I think, is to acknowledge the pain and the hurt of others and listen when they need to talk, to be present in their lives and just "be" with them. And sometimes, when the pain is too much to bear alone, the sadness comes in a huge tidal wave and no one knows it but you, reach out and tell your family that you are having a hard time. I can't expect anyone to know through ESP that I am having a tough time. If I can't handle it alone, it is my responsibility to speak up and ask for comfort. Or maybe all I need to do is take a moment to roll with the pain, ride the wave and cry it out.
This weekend, I was cleaning out my garage and organizing it so that I can start packing boxes and moving them in to the garage. When I moved in to this home, my kitchen was seriously lacking cupboard space. My mom offered this piece of furniture we call the Pie Cupboard until a time when I could get more shelves or something. This cupboard is the first piece of furniture my Dad made. When I lived with my parents, my Dad put a lock on it so that we could keep some things out of the reach of little fingers. I decided to take the lock off. One of my children actually broke part of the lock a year ago. I asked my Mom if she wanted this back and she said no. I was pleased because it reminds me of my Dad. I sat down and undid the screws for the lock and then I began to touch the wood and started to remember the time when my Dad built this and all the things we had stored in it over the years. I studied it inside and out. I don't know how to describe it but I just felt both sad because I miss him so much but at the same time, the memories were pleasant and happy. I cried for quite a while. It was what I needed.
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