Tuesday, March 31, 2015
It's a tidal wave of emotions, a pool you can't seem to swim out of. You seem to have forgotten your life vest, and you do your best to just float.
Some days are good. You accept things, you realize why things are that way and the hurt is minimal. But other days...it hits you like a ton of bricks. It's so incredibly difficult and no matter what you do, you can't seem to get out of your funk. You question why repeatedly, and you just can't seem to understand. The hurt cuts so deep that you would do anything to get away from the pain.
I was watching Grey's Anatomy a few weeks ago they said a line about one of the characters who was undergoing a surgery and not expected to live.
"She's in my head, but I'm not ready for my head to be the only place where she exists."
yeah, that. Do you think anyone is EVER ready for that? I can make a safe assumption here to say that in most cases, no. People aren't ready for that. I can think of all of the friends, family and co-workers of my dear Andi, and I can tell you in that instance? Beyond a shadow of a doubt, NO. Definitely not.
I've done a lot of reading lately, Bible devotionals, books, really anything. A few on the specific topic of grief and healthy grief. One thing that seems to come up repeatedly is that if you don't talk about it and deal with it from the beginning, it manifests in unhealthy ways and will continue to be a bother for years, even messing with your own personal health.
I read this particular exerpt in one of my Bible reading plans on YouVersion. It's called Deep Grief and is by Lysa TerKeurst:
I stood at the side of a casket too small to accept. Pink roses were draped everywhere. And I watched my mom as she lay across the casket. Within that casket laid part of her heart, so quiet and so still. Her little girl was gone.
It was the type of loss that cuts a heart so viciously it forever defines you. A loss called "deep grief'.
I remember standing paralyzed at the funeral. Just days before we were doing everyday things; suddently it all stopped. People were everywhere. Soft chatter filled in the gaps of our stunned silence. Eventually people went back to their own lives, and we carried on with ours, bound in deep grief.
I desperately longed for God to fix things. To take away my bloodshot eyes. To take away my anger toward him. To take away my guilt for being the one that lived. I felt I didn't deserve to be happy, ever.
This is the reality of deep grief. Even when you love God and believe in his promises, healing takes time.
It takes wading through an ocean of tears.
It takes discovering one day that the sun still shines and it's okay to smile.
It takes prayer, and a decison to stop asking for answers and to start asking for perspective.
Then one day you take off the blanket of deep grief. You fold it neatly and tuck it away. You no longer hate or resist it. For underneath it, wondrous things have happened. Things that can only come about when Divine hope intersects with a broken world.
And finally you can see years stretching before you once again. You look up, blow a kiss, wipe a tear and find it's still possible to dance.
I just love how she worded this. It is so honest and true. Those are all of the initial feelings that one might feel, and it is just so hard to accept. She goes on to the part where she talks about taking off the blanket of deep grief. The first thing I noticed is that she didn't mention a time frame. Because, there is no time frame. It takes as long as it takes. You may wear that blanket for a LONG time. It may take a while before you feel comfortable without it. You get to a love/hate relationship with that blanket. It's almost like a security blanket, but at the same time it's not healthy. Because what grown adult takes their blanket with them everywhere? But that doesn't mean that it's a bad thing. In that moment, at that time, you do what you need to do to cope. To grieve. She gives hope, saying that eventually one day you will be able to step away from it. You won't have such a love/hate relationship with grief. The part where she mentioned that you will "see years stretching before you once again"? That part is SO comforting to read. When you lose a loved one, and especially unexpectedly, it seems like you can barely see until tomorrow. The thought of looking ahead is an impossible task. There is just no way to even think of seeing years ahead. It is just unfathomable.
It's good to know that one day it will be.
Even in the Bible, Jesus wept over the death of his dear friend, Lazarus.
It says in John 11:33-36; (we pick up where Jesus is speaking to Mary - who was the sister of Lazarus)
When Jesus saw her weeping, and the Jews who had come along with her also weeping, he was deeply moved in spirit and troubled. "Where have you laid him?" he asked. "Come and see, Lord," they replied. Jesus wept. Then the Jews said, "See how he loved him!"
How beautiful is this scripture? Jesus wept right along with them. Jesus was not above the painful and crushing emotion. Jesus wept. And so can we. It's perfectly normal. God wants to hear your heart, and by letting it all out he can slowly begin the process of helping you heal. God weeps along side us as we grieve our loved ones. He feels our hurt and knows our pain. And when we start to heal, he can give us hope and comfort. We may begin to realize what a beautiful place our loved ones have reached. To have all the things the Lord can bless them with in heaven, and to be perfectly healed and well, and rejoicing in His greatness.
But for now, it's okay to cry. Its okay to hurt, to be mad and sad. To be homesick to join those loved ones in heaven. Because they are experiencing one of the most beautiful things that anyone has ever been given, and to join them one day in heaven will be a glorious meeting. Our time will come, but for now we must carry on their legacy here on earth. And what an honor it is, to have the chance to do that!