AND NOW AS PROMISED, A VERY INTIMATE VIEW OF GRIEF AND LOSS. Thank you Rosalie Needham Hi Graham and Michelle I have come to understand that theres no road map to grieving well. But grieving does mean feeling every wave as it crashes on top of you, holding on for dear life, wondering if each breathe will be your last, and being as real as you can possibly be. Ironically, instead of pain being something Im running from these days, its become an unexpected friend that Im turning towards in the process of healing. Ive found something, or someONE, who not only holds me inside of the blackness, but always cries more tears than I do. Psalm 34:18: “The Lord is near to those who have a broken heart.” Or as The Message bible puts it — “If your heart is broken, you’ll find God right there; if you’re kicked in the gut, he’ll help you catch your breath.” For me Graham, the grief of losing my son Shayne has been the biggest ‘kick in the gut’ I have ever been asked to endure. God is closer than Hes ever been with this loss, and heaven is so tangible in Shayne’s death. My mothers heart longs for an eternity where Im reunited with my boy again, but for now, as I wrap my heart around the unfathomable anguish of burying my child, my God who also watched His son die, wraps His healing arms around me. I can see why people turn to all sorts of addictions in order to pacify their pain. A quick fix, anything to silence the ache that cries out in their heart and the grief that slashes their heart like a jagged knife. There are some ‘givens’ that make grief and loss the same for everyone. Some ‘bits’ are exactly the same: Their loved one is not going to walk through the door anymore. They will not hear their voice anymore. They will not receive phone calls, gifts or affirmation from them anymore. They will not see them smile anymore. They will have to come to terms with receiving a coroner’s report and read the words “Death Certificate”. But then one needs to unpack another layer of grief where in fact it becomes more definitive and each one has its own unique set of circumstances which make it difficult for other people to relate to exactly. This is why, I believe, grief can be a very lonely journey. There are so many different grief circumstances: Families coming to terms with their loved one having suicided Couples experiencing countless miscarriages Nursing a partner or loved one to a slow and painful death I have a friend whose daughter vanished when she was 14 and she has never seen her again Burns victims who lose their identity In my hometown there was a tortured man who walked non stop every day, after he was forced to watch while his wife and children were shot in front of him in WWII Children who have been abandoned Parents who have been divorced by their children Loss of livelihood Loss of innocence from childhood abuse And so the list goes on and on… I do know that every grief journey is a unique one and there is no-one in the whole world who can fully understand what you are going through, which is why we need to learn how to just be loving and supportive in someone else’s grief journey. Without placing timeframes and constraints on what is acceptable or non-acceptable grief. There is no way of knowing how long it will take for a person to come to terms with some of the massively difficult changes that have taken place in their lives. Learning to live without that person and being allowed to stay in the comfort of memories for as long as it takes to move forward when they are ready, not when somebody else decides they should. I do know what it is like to bury a child and I have also spent many years now, being the stepmother of estranged children. I cannot begin to give you advice as to how to handle the problems in your extended family, except to just share with you how we have chosen to deal with our own situation. We made the commitment a long time ago, that we would continue to love them and refrain from giving them any unsolicited advice. We would not become co-dependant and would maintain an appropriate distance for them, and for us to be as emotionally healthy as possible. And above all, we daily bring them to Jesus and ask Him to ‘do whatever it takes’ to save them for eternity. We can never truly know what is behind the sometimes thin veneer that covers a person’s grief, which is why I believe that we need to validate their grief and not be too hasty to sweep it aside. Even though I know what it is like to bury a child, I still don’t know what it would be like to bury a child who had suicided, or who had a slow and painful death. Those circumstances are unique to that individual’s grief journey. Just as my journey is also unique. No-one know what it was truly like for me, unless they have had a journey that parallels mine in every way. Barely 28 years old and becoming a brand new widow, through no choice of my own. A sole parent to three little ones under 5. A bleak and black future that darkened every part of my being. Followed by one little boy lapsing into a diabetic coma, holding onto life. The months and years of coma’s, doctors, hospitals, ambulances, judgement and parenting — alone! And I mean alone! Disillusioned and bewildered with a God I didn’t really know or understand. Countless times I found my boy unconscious through the darkness of the night or in what should have been a bright and sun filled morning. So many times I was his human physical lifeline. So many times I watched and waited by his bedside, in hospital or at home, waiting for him to breathe, waiting for him to emerge from a state that was foreign to him and to me. A place of confusion, blankness and frightening disconnection from his world and mine. One occasion I sat alone with my three children in the middle of the College church and I looked across to see Shayne who was 10 years old at the time, looking blank, confused and his face beginning to distort. To try and keep his dignity in tact as we sat amongst many of his school peers, I quickly and awkwardly scooped up this big, strong, handsome boy, who was groaning loudly and frothing at the mouth, in a full blown ‘fit’ and carried him, struggling up the long aisle, to a safe place where he and I could deal with this debilitating disease. There are way too many incidents to ever put into spoken or written words. Which contributes to the lonely grief that I still walk. The parent-child journey that I travelled for 26 years with my Shayne, because of his three medical conditions, created a bond, a special bond that I don’t have with my other children. That is of course, not to say that I love them any less - it’s just different. I have added the following link for you to check out which may help you get a broader understanding of just some of my own grief journey, I just happen to agree very much with the process on this site. When Shayne died, I joined an exclusive club. No-one asked if I wanted to join, I never imagined I would find myself here, but now that I am — I am in it for life. A life sentence. From the outside looking in, no one can never understand and from the inside looking out you can never explain. wikihow/Survive-the-Death-of-Your-Child Sometimes I feel that if Shayne were to scream at me, at least I would hear the sound of his voice, which would be so sweet—even the tone of his voice is now but a distant memory. I would love to hear him, smell the after-shave on his skin and rub my cheek against his unshaven stubble. A child who loses a parent is an orphan. A man who loses his wife is a widower. A woman who loses her husband is a widow. However, there is no name for a parent who loses a child, for there is no word to describe such pain. Hope this has made just a little sense of grief, as I see it anyway. Of course it is a huge subject and this is only scratching the surface. Blessings to you both for the week ahead.
Posted on: Sun, 14 Sep 2014 00:43:22 +0000
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