In experiencing the sudden and unexpected death of my spouse and never facing significant loss in the past, I’ve discovered grief as a horrible game that none of us wanted to play. A game with no rules and definitely no winner.
Grief is a melancholia of sorts. It doesn't seem to want to go away. I describe grief mostly with that word and red colors... jig jags.. scribbles all over the page because it makes zero sense half the time.
I got this newsletter today as I've been struggling with my mother's death today and wondering how bad the holidays are going to be for me this year. I pray not too bad but it's been hard. Off and on it comes and goes, ebbs and flows... like waves. Guess I'll find out.
Katie, I appreciate your thoughts and work around grief.
As a pastor I have had the honor of working with numerous people around grief. Recently, (July 30) my dad passed and so grief has visited me in a very personal way. The grief journey is so very personal and unique to each individual. Reading your blog, I began to wonder how can a person find the strength to begin to move into a new phase of life? Not in a way where the grieving is now somehow complete, but where it takes on a new dimension. I am thinking of a friend who lost a spouse a few years ago. Recently they told me that, "What we had was good and they were thankful they had that time, but now was a new phase and it was time to move on. They were not talking about a relationship, but a phase where they determined to create something new. For this person they decided to move out of grief. I wonder how and when that happens?
Dave, this is such a great question. And I'm so sorry that you're dealing with the grief of your dad's death. I am mulling on an answer and am planning to write about it in Friday's post (which you'll receive, I saw you just became a subscriber—thank you!). So stay tuned for some thoughts :)
Amen! You just reminded me of this gorgeous quote from Jamie Anderson: “Grief, I’ve learned, is really just love. It’s all the love you want to give, but cannot. All that unspent love gathers up in the corners of your eyes, the lump in your throat, and in that hollow part of your chest. Grief is just love with no place to go.”
Perfect! The explanation I was brooding about finding. I am the last survivor of my immediate family. They are all gone and I've never experienced grief. For us love was unavailable. There was an ongoing pretense that it existed. Nope. I have begun to develop that ability, I believe and hope, largely due to example from my third wife. I'm grateful for the love I now feel for some others. I've come to recognize an important difference between love and being IN love. The latter is wanting to spend the rest of your life with your target, but love on its own is exactly that and nothing more. It requires no commitment, though it may offer it.
Lately I would describe grief like the wind. I'm outside and there's a light breeze blowing. It's my grief, I feel it but it's almost comfortable. I know it's there but I am ok. Then almost without warning the wind begins to pick up. It's now uncomfortable. I feel fear, I want to run to get away from it. I beg for it to slow down... but it can't hear my voice.
In experiencing the sudden and unexpected death of my spouse and never facing significant loss in the past, I’ve discovered grief as a horrible game that none of us wanted to play. A game with no rules and definitely no winner.
Oh, it’s the worst game! You’re totally right. I hope grief has been relatively gentle with you this week, John.
Grief is a melancholia of sorts. It doesn't seem to want to go away. I describe grief mostly with that word and red colors... jig jags.. scribbles all over the page because it makes zero sense half the time.
I got this newsletter today as I've been struggling with my mother's death today and wondering how bad the holidays are going to be for me this year. I pray not too bad but it's been hard. Off and on it comes and goes, ebbs and flows... like waves. Guess I'll find out.
Oh, Laura, your description is so evocative! And the holidays can be so, so tough. I’ve been thinking about that too. Sending you love ❤️
Thank you Katie. Right back at you with the love. ❤
Katie, I appreciate your thoughts and work around grief.
As a pastor I have had the honor of working with numerous people around grief. Recently, (July 30) my dad passed and so grief has visited me in a very personal way. The grief journey is so very personal and unique to each individual. Reading your blog, I began to wonder how can a person find the strength to begin to move into a new phase of life? Not in a way where the grieving is now somehow complete, but where it takes on a new dimension. I am thinking of a friend who lost a spouse a few years ago. Recently they told me that, "What we had was good and they were thankful they had that time, but now was a new phase and it was time to move on. They were not talking about a relationship, but a phase where they determined to create something new. For this person they decided to move out of grief. I wonder how and when that happens?
Dave, this is such a great question. And I'm so sorry that you're dealing with the grief of your dad's death. I am mulling on an answer and am planning to write about it in Friday's post (which you'll receive, I saw you just became a subscriber—thank you!). So stay tuned for some thoughts :)
Grief… exposes our broken heart 💔… our brokenness and as we heal we realize Grief is, …❤️ Just LOVE 💗
Amen! You just reminded me of this gorgeous quote from Jamie Anderson: “Grief, I’ve learned, is really just love. It’s all the love you want to give, but cannot. All that unspent love gathers up in the corners of your eyes, the lump in your throat, and in that hollow part of your chest. Grief is just love with no place to go.”
Perfect! The explanation I was brooding about finding. I am the last survivor of my immediate family. They are all gone and I've never experienced grief. For us love was unavailable. There was an ongoing pretense that it existed. Nope. I have begun to develop that ability, I believe and hope, largely due to example from my third wife. I'm grateful for the love I now feel for some others. I've come to recognize an important difference between love and being IN love. The latter is wanting to spend the rest of your life with your target, but love on its own is exactly that and nothing more. It requires no commitment, though it may offer it.
Lately I would describe grief like the wind. I'm outside and there's a light breeze blowing. It's my grief, I feel it but it's almost comfortable. I know it's there but I am ok. Then almost without warning the wind begins to pick up. It's now uncomfortable. I feel fear, I want to run to get away from it. I beg for it to slow down... but it can't hear my voice.
This is beautiful, Janet! What a great description.