Grief Lessons
Things I Learned
Excerpt from my book, GRACE FOR GRIEF
Margaret Mead said about death, “When a person is born, we rejoice, and when they have married, we jubilate, but when they die, we pretend nothing happened.”
That is the attitude of many who prefer to skip the grieving process and go on as if nothing has happened. But when grief knock on our door, it will just keep knocking until we have no choice but to invite it in for a while.
When Morgan was killed, I wanted to fast forward through the painful first year of grief and be healed. I wanted our world to go back to the way it was before she was taken from us, but that was an impossibility.
The healing—and the acceptance—would have to follow its own time clock.
Some days, I thought I would never smile again. I feared all my days would be filled with excoriating pain, sorrow, and loss. While I’m sure I will always experience some of those painful days, I now find far more movements with peace and joy than with despair. But I couldn’t have handled such a devasting loss by relying on my own strength alone. The grief was bigger than anything I could manage, so I relied on God to get me through.
I know faith can be difficult, especially when you’ve lost a loved one and might even feel angry or mad at God for allowing such horrible things to happen. Maybe you’ve never developed a spiritual foundation, or perhaps you lost your faith in the wake of grief. I’m not aiming to tell you what to believe, but I can share that for me, personally, faith is all that has gotten me through this journey. So, I encourage you to consider finding spiritual practice that feels right to you. As the Bible tells us, even just a mustard see of faith can be enough.
Now that I look back through the years, I can see the lessons I’ve learned from bearing the unbearable, I’m not the same person I was when Morgan was alive. The day she passed away will forever divide my Before and After. But now I can see the many ways this painful loss has shaped me.
· Grief taught me to see the bereavement of others.
It doesn’t happen to “other people.” I was an educator in control of my students and my family. In an instant, my world was turned upside down. I discovered instantly that I had no control. I’ve heard it said, you have either just had a life crisis, or you are going through a life crisis, or you will have a life crisis in the future. There is no way of knowing when something will happen in your life or others around you. But at some point in time, something will likely bring you to your knees.
· Grief taught me tasks that seemed so important, now take a backseat on this stage of my life.
Things that assumed my busy time seem unimportant now, like fretting over what fabric to use for a chair or sofa or having just the right outfit to wear to a party. Today I see the effort that went into meaningless things now. I love to have an orderly house and a new outfit for a special occasion, but I no longer focus on such superficial worries. I’ve learned that I only really wear the same 5-6 items of clothing repeatedly. My house is more than comfortable, as is. I don’t need “new” things to impress anyone. Things that were important years ago don’t seem so urgent today. Grief helps to prioritize your life in the best way.
· Grief teaches me to appreciate the simple moments.
When someone you love dies, you don’t care about holidays, birthdays, promotions, vacations. Instead, it’s the normal, everyday moments we ache for most. I still long for a phone call just to hear Morgan’s voice. I yearn for the tropical flower smell of her luxurious hair. I pine to hear her car pull up in the driveway. Those trivial things that you didn’t pay attention to in your everyday past life, now are monumental giants of your mind.
I learned, it’s those simple moments that matter most.
· Grief taught me that I will never again be the person I was before Morgan died.
Life has changed, and I have also changed. My challenge is learning how to cope without the physical presence of my daughter. I try to think of Morgan and how she would have wanted me to live. I wake up every day and aim to be productive and happy. For whatever reason, I am here and she is not, so I choose to continue with my life in a way that would please her and make her proud.
· Grief taught me that I had to give myself permission to grieve.
It’s a conscience choice to decide to move It’s a conscience choice to decide to move through the process of grief to heal. I learned to honor that process and take as much time as needed to restore your life.
· Grief taught me the importance of rest.
Our body, soul, and mind need quiet space and time to recover. Nature understands this. Just like a butterfly knows when to take shelter from a storm, we too know when to take cover. We can fly again once the “storm” is over. What we can’t do is try to dodge grief. That would be a bit like trying to tiptoe around the rain.
· Grief taught me that deep grief is a lot like a roller coaster.
Some days we will be up and feeling better, and other days we might be in tears at the bottom again. It’s okay to feel the ups and downs. Even when we hit smoother seasons, we may be triggered by certain moments, anniversaries, places, songs, and smells. That brings us back into the well of pain, but we can hold on to hope knowing that we won’t stay down forever.
· Grief taught me that everyone grieves at their own pace and in their own unique way.
There is no one-true path to get through the healing, and a deep loss is not something to get over quickly. Well-meaning people may say you need closure. This word doesn’t sit right with me. Bank accounts close, windows close, doors close, roads closed, but the love we have for our loved ones? That will never “close.” Why? Because there is no “end” to the grief journey. It’s just a new reality we must learn to navigate in the best way possible.
One day at a time.
Grief taught me, everyone grieves but not everyone heals.
Are you familiar with the children’s game, Going on a Bear Hunt? My granddaughters love to play it, and when I hear them singing the familiar rhyme, their words remind me of the grief journey many of us are going through.
You can’t go around it,
You can’t get over it,
You can’t go under it,
You have to go through it.
Just like a bear hunt, grief gives us no shortcuts. You can’t go around it, can’t get over it, can’t go under it, have to go through it. It’s a response to the deep love we carry for our loved one, and that’s no easy load to carry.
Being a grieving mother is a club I never wanted to join, but now that life has thrust me into this room, I’ve found it be filled with amazing people. Bereaved parents share a special and common bond of understanding that lasts a lifetime. The link is so strong and emotional with others who grieve. It’s okay to feel grateful for the club and at the same time want to flee.
By giving yourself time to replace negative thoughts with positive ones, your healing will begin to develop a peace of mind. Just as a flower needs water to bloom, we need moments of respite to recharge and thrive and rest. So, take a deep breath, put your worries on hold, and give yourself a gift of pause. It’s not a sign of weakness, but a necessity for strength. Let your mind and body unwind, and you’ll be amazed at how much better you can tackle life’s challenges—even in the wake of grief.
All of these are really good tips for grieving, Pam. I, too, relied heavily on my faith, which kept my sanity in those first few months. They were excruciating!
And, this parents club of grieving hearts is like nothing else I've ever experienced. I feel so close to many people I have never met, as we share and buoy each other along.
Spot on, Pam. Life goes on but is never the same...with days of joyful gratitude and days of sorrow as we remember our loved ones and the experiences they never got the chance to have. I truly don't know how people make it through the grief journey without faith and supportive friends.