some hard words about grief (from a Christian perspective)

first, i am a Christian.  i believe in the divinity of Jesus Christ and i believe that i will spend eternity with him in heaven.  i believe the Holy Spirit lives inside me.  i believe God is my Father and wants a relationship with me.

second, i believe that grief HURTS and that doubt is okay.  i believe that pain is real and that anxiety is not an affliction of the weak. 

third, i believe that as Christians we are guilty of using trite, feel-good expressions of support that undermine the grief people feel when they lose a part of themselves. 

in august 2015 my father was diagnosed with stage 4 lung cancer.  he lived 8 months and left this earth on april 14, 2016.  a little background:  i’m 42, single, never married, a college graduate, a small business owner, an animal lover, a music lover, a book hoarder (i own a used book store) and a terrible guitar player.  i’m a loner, a near-hermit, i can go days (weeks) without other people and as long as i have my pets and my books i’m fine.  this blog is my clumsy way of working though some of the things in my life post-flood, post-PTSD diagnosis, post-learning to live life with sometimes crippling anxiety.

daddy was my all-time favorite person.  i’m southern and we southern girls are born and raised to worship our daddies.  he wasn’t perfect but he was sure wonderful. he had 4 kids and he lived his life so that he could be there for us whenever and however we needed him. 

when he died i felt, and feel, utterly lost.  this world, which makes little sense to me anyway, makes NO sense now.  i was in the process of opening my bookstore in the last months of his life.  he wanted to see me open.  he didn’t but he did get to see the space and be there as we painted and prepared.  he saw pictures and was so thrilled for me.  i postponed the opening but was open about 3 weeks after his death. 

i now work 3 jobs.  since he died, i spoke at his memorial service, opened the store, moved, filed bankruptcy and finally had a break down.  a couple of weeks ago i had numerous panic attacks in a 3 day span and couldn’t get out of bed let alone get to work.  i spent those 3 days crying in bed and avoiding everything and everybody i could.  when asked, i told people i missed daddy so much i was physically sick.  what i heard was:  "he’s in a better place", "he was a Christian", "he was in pain – you wouldn’t want him back in pain would you?", "he loved you", "you’ll see him again", etc, ad nauseam. 

i know all these things.  what i want acknowledged is this:  when someone precious dies the person left behind grieves in their own way.  what i want people to hear is that all these things (while true) DON’T HELP ME AT ALL.  see, his pain in over BUT MINE ISN’T.  he’s in heaven, BUT I’M STUCK HERE IN THIS COLD, HARD WORLD WITHOUT HIM.  my grief is for ME.  yes, there are times when i grieve for the things he will miss – seeing his grandchildren grow up, seeing the new peyton manning commercial, seeing hillary clinton wipe up the floor with donald trump in november – but what i really grieve is what i lost. 

if i ever do get married, he won’t be with me, when i’m sick he’s not here to take care of me, when one of our favorite M*A*S*H episode is on I CAN’T CALL HIM!  I DON’T WANT TO HEAR how selfish i am to grieve.  grieving is not selfish, it isn’t weak.   it isn’t something to be glossed over by saying things like “it gets better.”  maybe it gets better for others but right now i can’t guarantee it’ll get better for me.  he’s only been gone 5 months and i have every right to feel how i feel. 

again, if you don’t know what to say, just say, “i’m sorry.”

i will glory in seeing daddy in heaven but while i’m still on this hostile planet i will miss him every day.  i will grieve for what i lost. and i damn sure won’t apologize for it.

grace and peace and grief

watch your mouth

just can't help but write about an interaction i had with a lady in the bookstore today.  she was talking to her friend and me about a trip she took and the friend asked, "when?"  she responded, "the same time as the nashville flood.  when was that?"  i said, "may, 2010" and she looked at me like i had 2 heads.  i said, "i lost everything in that flood."  she then looked at me with pity and said, "at least you were able to rebuild." 

now, how she knew i was able to rebuild and why she thought it was okay to assume such a thing is baffling.  i said, "it's only stuff, right?"  she quickly agreed and then sensed i was being facetious and added, "i'm sure it's more involved than that."  i replied, "if only it were as easy as replacing things."  she quickly went on with her story and talked about a few books, etc.

after she left i realized i was angry.  i've mentioned ad nauseam that the physical things aren't the hard things to replace.  i've not mourned one tangible thing i lost in the flood.  the things i mourn are intangible:  my safety, my sanity, my very self. 

the point of this post is a reminder that words matter!  please, if someone you know is going through something: something big, something small, something you've endured, something you find unimportant, please think before you speak!  the clichés:  "i know how you feel", "it's only stuff", "it'll get better", "you'll be fine", "they're in a better place" are unnecessary, unfeeling and sometimes downright untrue. 

if you don't know what to say, say, "i'm sorry."  simple.  say, "i don't know what to say, but i'm here for you."  perfect. 

more on words about grief tomorrow.

grace and peace