Grief Is Good

For so many years I never understood why the holidays weren't anything but happy times for some people.

I didn't understand the profound feelings of loss that accompany this time of year. I felt like so many others who thought "Being surrounded by family should be enough. We're here to love you!"

But, now that we are approaching the second holiday season without Mom, I'm starting to get it.

Yesterday, I attended a grief support group at our church for the first time. Truly, it was a selfish act because the speaker, Laurie T, is someone I have a history with. She was the reason I went; I wanted to hug her neck and catch up.

What I didn't realize was that I was going to catch blessings during the time I had together with the wonderful folks at our church who are grieving losses during the holidays.

I learned that there are two general types of grievers: emotive (like me) and stoic (those whom you can't tell are even bothered by loss). With me, there is no doubt I'm grieving; it's all over my face, in my tears, in my writing. With stoics, it's not at all remotely near the surface. But, I now understand, it's there.

Therapists used to worry about stoics but have discovered that, over time, there is really no difference in suicide rates or length of grieving or other measures of how someone expresses profound loss.*

I always thought it was better to KNOW you are going to lose someone then to wake up one day and be shocked they are gone. Surprise number two: not true. Both expected and sudden losses have their share of burdens. But, they share the same grief.

We talked about loving ourselves enough to carve out time to intentionally feel grief in our lives because, while our grief is life-long, other people's lives move forward after the funeral is over. And, they have a hard time understanding why we are crying on a Tuesday afternoon, in carpool line, over a song that jettisons us back in time, before loss became a permanent part of our lives.

Sure, it sounds like some ancient form of torture to cause yourself to grieve, but it extremely therapeutic. It's what I've been doing since August on Thursday mornings each week. I have a scheduled time to write just about Mom.

Some days I find myself crying buckets. Other days I am laughing at memories. Most days, it's a mixed bag. But, I never leave a Thursday morning not feeling as though I've been blessed for the work. Sure, it takes effort, but it is so important. It is one way I can intentionally grieve, which is giving myself permission to miss her, showing myself love, and honoring Mom's memory all at the same time.

As we grieve, we have to honor our own grieving process, whatever that looks like, to truly love ourselves first, so that love can spread beyond. I've found that I am so much more empathetic to other's losses when I've intentionally grieved my own.

I loved the analogy that grief is like a cactus...a cactus that we have to learn to hug. No, it doesn't feel good to get pricked, but over time we learn that the pain becomes less and less, though it never completely goes away.

I also loved the comparison of grief to laboring to bring a baby into this world. It's not fun to do, we wouldn't intentionally choose it if there were other options, but it is a necessary part of life.

I learned that people have "grief bursts" where a particular song or picture or scent brings their loved one immediately back to the moment. Those are nature, normal, and to be embraced.

Life after losing a loved one, Laurie said, is like picking up a million shattered pieces of your "before" life, one at a time, and putting your "after" life together. No, it doesn't look the same as before, but the after can be good. It can even be great.

It takes a lot of time. It takes persistence. It takes discipline. It takes intentionally grieving. But, there can be THANKS in Thanksgiving and blessing in Christmas.

So, I enter this holiday season ready to cry or laugh or hug someone to almost fainting when I need to. I'm daring myself to do what others won't: to be me; to feel deep feelings and let them overflow into life. To stop worrying about what the kids or neighbors or complete strangers think. I'm giving myself a gift by letting grief move in my life.

And, as a result, I'm moving into the holidays without worry about what others will think or react or say. I'm ready.

Sure, grief is my sidekick. Sure, it may decide to rear it's head over turkey pot pie or at the Christmas Eve service or when we sing Auld Lang Syne. And, you know what? That's perfectly, A-OK.

So, to you, if you are in a period of grief, know you aren't alone. Know that not everybody gets it. Know that some are going to try to fix it. Know that others are walking down the same path at a different pace as you.

But know that, in taking care of yourself by expressing what you are feeling when you are feeling it (or not expressing it when you are feeling it), that you are honoring a process created by God to help us miss those we love who have gone home to Him.

And, if God saw fit to create grief for me? I'm going to grab it and hold onto it for all it is worth.



*I'm so glad to know this because I have stoics in my life who I've worried about. And, I've been in conversations with people who also thought this was a problem. Now I can confidently say that "everyone grieves differently and no type of grieving is better than any other".