With Ginger working at the school that utilizes our church
building, and both of us involved in church activities that occur in the
evenings, there’s a night or two each week where I’ll stop and pick up dinner
on my way home for Ginger and I. I’ll bring it straight to the church, and we’ll
sit in her classroom, rehashing our day, perhaps correcting the last few papers
from her class, and then diving into the meeting or activity for church. Last
night, I called ahead before leaving work and ordered pizza and salad for the
two of us to share. I arrived at the restaurant a few moments early, so I sat
and waited as the staff finished preparing our meal. And what do we do when we’re
waiting? Pull out the phone and catch up on Facebook and Twitter.
At a table just a few feet away, a family of four was sharing
a meal together; Dad, Mom, and two small children. I had my nose buried in my
phone and didn’t really pay much attention until the daughter, probably 3 or 4
years old, excitedly piped up in her wee, small, oh-so-cute voice:
“I really like pizza, Mommy!”
The word “Mommy” caught my ear. It wasn’t just the word. It
was the childlike voice, the eagerness, and the bond between mother and
daughter that was so obvious. I immediately felt a lump rise in my throat, and
tears began to form in the corner of my eyes. Mother’s Day was just a few days
ago, and this week more than most, I’ve been missing my mom.
It’s been just a few months since my parents died; Dad in
early August, and Mom in late September. The following months have been filled
with business that comes after a loss. Working with my sisters to plan their
memorial services, determining what to do with their earthly possessions, and
supporting my sister as she carries out their final wishes as executor of the
estate, including the selling of the house that had been their home my entire
life. Processing the grief has been a daily part of this process. It first, it
seemed like a constant effort. However, over time, while the thoughts and
memories continue, the pain associated with them grows less severe, less
debilitating.
I may go days without feeling the effects of grief, but when
it hits, it is sudden, sharp and severe. It can be a simple as a little girl’s
exuberance about pizza. I’ve heard many different terms used to describe this
sudden twinge of grief. My personal favorite? Emotional Land Mines. As I walk through
life, all looks well; the path is clear, the trail well marked. And yet, buried
just beneath the surface is all the emotion and pain, just waiting for you.
Without warning, you step right into it, and the feelings explode in tears, and
a tight chest. In most situations, the stoic part of our human nature kicks in,
fighting back those tears and reminding you to breathe. This is especially
helpful when you’re sitting in the middle of a restaurant – regaining your
composure quickly, rather than having those around you concerned what the guy
having the emotional meltdown might be up to.
One thing that has helped me in my processing this grief is
a class Ginger and I have been going to – Grief Share. I felt the need to have
someone to talk with as I walked through the mine field. Someone not
necessarily to help me to avoid the mines, but to give tips for handling events
as they came. I had access to grief counselling through Mom and Dad’s hospice
team, but I really wanted something that was faith based. A friend at work who
was going through a similar loss recommended Grief Share. I went online (griefshare.org),
and discovered that Grief Share is a 13-week study that walks through the grief
journey, hosted by churches throughout the country. When I saw that there was a
church near our house that would be starting a session in just a few weeks, I
spoke with Ginger about my wanting to go, and she volunteered to go with me.
The first week, there was a group of about twenty of us, with
three leaders facilitating. We each shared our names, and what our loss had
been. It seemed overwhelming – some had lost their spouse, some a parent, some
a child. Tears flowed as each one there shared a little of their story. We then
watched a short video explaining what the series would cover. There was also a workbook
that allowed space to take notes during the video, and then a couple of short simple
questions for each day of the week to help us take what was shared in the video
and apply it to our own situation. It was a hard night, but I was encouraged
that I felt like I was taking steps to walk through this season well.
The next week was a shock in that the original group of twenty had dwindled to a small group of five, along with the three leaders. It was
explained that some come to the first meeting, then decide they’re just not
ready to work through their emotions just yet. As we’ve learned in the weeks
since we started, grief does not have a timetable, there’s no specific order to
it, and everyone handles in differently; and best of all, that’s OK.
That same group of five has banded together as we meet each
week. As we get more comfortable with each other, more of our story has been
shared. More tears have been shared, not just for our own plight, but in
feeling the hurts of others as well. There is a strength that comes from a
shared experience, a comfort in knowing that others are struggling with the
same issues, and a peace in knowing you’re not alone in your pain. While the
leaders listen compassionately and walk with us through the class, they have
also shared their own stories with us as well., and have used their experiences to
minister to us. And, because the class is faith-based, there are weekly verses
and reminders that God knows and understands our pain and grief as well. The
videos and workbook may seem a little simple at times, but as I work through
the questions each week, the truths that are covered stick with me. This next
week will be our last meeting together, complete with a potluck, which seems
fitting: sharing a meal with a group of people once thought strangers, who
through our shared grief and tears became a support for each other.
This has been a season where many in my circle of friends
and acquaintances have suffered loss. I can honestly recommend Grief Share as a
way to process through your emotions in safe place with caring people and
others who understand what you are feeling.
So – will there be an end to this portion of my journey? A
key phrase I’ve heard is that grief is a something you don’t get over; it’s something
you get through. And, while there’s still that occasional emotional land mine
that stops me in my tracks for a moment, the pain that it inflicts will lessen
over time. God’s word will continue to be a comfort, knowing that he will never
leave or forsake. And, most of all, that in him, we have the hope for the
future, in a place with no pain or grief. A place where there are no emotional
land mines, just the emotion that will come from seeing him face to face.
