So here's my contribution.
Dear Grief,
They say your presence is cleansing, cathartic...a severe mercy that allows the soul to recover from loss, and move forward into a diminished world with the confidence gained from having once had that which has been lost.
Or something.
But there's a problem. Change and loss are a part of life, and grief is thereby sorrow at not being able to hold on to something or someone...the sorrow that attachment does not work.
And it doesn't. We have to let go gracefully, because we can't, under any circumstances, hold on.
That makes you, Grief, something like a second cousin to greed.
Everything in life is loaned to us. Everything will pass in the temporal world.
In the eternal, it all comes back, and we'll see that we never really lost it at all.
So, Grief, why are you here?
To give us the wistful sentimentality that sad songs engender? Are you here to inflict pain that we justify because "it makes us feel alive"?
Perhaps I see you differently now, because I have lived with death at my elbow, and am now close to death myself (or so the doctors say).
I don't need you. I never did, because God saved up everything good. It was never lost.
My wife does not need you. I will be waiting for her. Her life should be full, and you, Grief, have no right to tell her it's diminished.
So, Grief, no offense, but take your sad songs and sentimental slogans and wistful cards, and take a hike.
If you have the chance, won't you drop by my other blog, "Starting the Day with Grace"? It's a quote and short commentary that I hope will bring a touch of light into your marriage and your life.
Andrew, my heart aches that death is near you. Prayers for you all! That last line resonated with me. I think there have been times in our lives when we just wanted grief to "take a hike."
ReplyDeleteThank you, Tara - I am fighting on, and will take some killin' yet, as my wife's family says. They're from Kentucky.
DeleteWe do appreciate the prayers. Tennyson write that with prayers the whole world is bound 'round the feet of God with chains of gold. That's not a direct quote, but the image is from "The Passing of Arthur", the last poem in the cycle "The Idylls of the King". Worth a read if you have the chance.
I wish you grace and love, this Christmas.
My prayers and thoughts are with you Andrew. Yet, grief will visit your wife and it will sustain her for awhile. And then her life will still be full!
ReplyDeleteWow - you just rocked my world, Paula. "Grief will sustain her"...I suddenly saw the truth in that.
DeleteThank you. And thank you. And thank you once again.
I think you just made me a better man.
This line took my breath away: "That makes you, Grief, something of a second cousin to greed." I think understand what you mean -- I find that I want to horde up all the memories and all the information I can, maybe in an attempt to keep vivid the one lost to me. I wonder if you'd agree that grief is also a thin gruel in comparison to the feast of the eternal? Until we're able to recalibrate ourselves to the eternal, it's almost impossible to avoid the visit of grief after loss. I'm so sorry (too small a word) that you're facing into your (possible) last years and that you have to deal with this in a deeply personal way. None of us gets an exemption, but it'd be nice to get a deferment. Praying for you today.
ReplyDeleteI absolutely agree that it's a thin gruel, in comparison with what lies ahead in the eternal.
DeleteIt's hard to avoid, and to a degree it may be necessary, but we really can't have it both ways; we can't be believing Christians (or Muslims, or Buddhists, or Sikhs...) and hold onto grief,forever picking on the scab on the heart.
We either accept that we're citizens of eternity, and accept that our passport requires us to leave drama at the door, or we place our hearts into the grip of tragedy and loss as a permanent truth.
And thank you for your kind comments about my situation. What I have learned is not to look at myself with sentimentality. Yes, when I die I'll be missed, but I would hate to have anyone build a monument of sadness in their lives, to mark the place where I once walked. That is not a desirable legacy.
And thank you so much for the prayers - more is wrought by prayer than we dream of.
God bless,and Merry Christmas!
Andrew, the concept that grief is sorrow over attachment lost resonates much with me. Thank you for putting into words what I wasn't able to! I too have been sick for a while and the idea of letting go gracefully is so hard.I'm sorry you're so sick. Thank you for sharing your thoughts and heart.
ReplyDeletend thank you, for taking the time to be here, and comment, and for your kind words.
DeleteI hope your condition improves, and if I may - I shall pray for you.
Fight on my friend, fight on. Rest assured when it is time for you to move to heaven, I will be a virtual shoulder for your wife to cry on and help make sure she lives a full life - telling grief to take a hike.
ReplyDeleteMichele, thank you - I will pass on the message to Barbara. That means a lot.
DeleteThank you, my friend. And if I can ever help you, with words, prayers, or dog stories as distraction (we have 26 - it's a sanctuary), please let me know.
Can I just say, I love reading the comments almost as much as the post ... AND I've been so very encouraged to see your name, face, and words appearing on nearly every letter to grief that linked up as part of this exercise. Thank you for participating, and for being such a strong source of encouragement to so many through your words.
ReplyDeleteKate, thank you so much for putting together this linkup (and for working so hard to make FMF the blessing it is).
DeleteI hope that "Letters to Grief", both the book and the post, get huge readership. They deserve it, and we need the messages.
andrew - thanks for giving me a new clear perspective on grief. sometimes i think we hold onto it because it's what we have left. when my dad died, it was a beginning in a lot of important ways. and i would rather cling to that than the sadness. prayers for you on your journey.
ReplyDeleteThank you for the prayers, and my prayers for you, Meghan, in your loss. No matter how many years pass, it's never easy.
DeleteAndrew, I am sorry to hear you are suffering and God may choose to take you home soon. As far as grief, having lost my 32 year old daughter 6 years ago, it never really goes away. I do not want to continue to feel grief, but it is constant--less intense as the years pass by, but a permanent part of me now. Someone wise who also lost a child told me two things: having a child changes your life forever; so does losing a child. And I would walk again, but always with a limp. I found both of those to be true. Life goes on and I continue to live it, and live it with joy and enjoyment. The best part of losing Kimberly is how God has used it, as He promised, for good in my life. I am a much more compassionate, caring, patient person. One who is more willing to give grace than I did before Kim's passing. Two blog posts I wrote about the difficulty of grief in a post you can read--if you're so inclined--called The New Normal at http://debbieputman.com/new-normal. And one about helping others when they are in the midst of grief, especially new grief, called Help for the Grieving at http://debbieputman.com/help-for-the-grieving.
ReplyDeleteMay God fill your heart and mind with His peace and joy. And may He make His presence and comfort known to you and your family in tangible ways as He leads you on this journey.
Debbie, thank you so much - your words mean something special, coming from the place you have to be in every day, forced there by the loss you've experienced.
DeleteI did visit both posts you mentioned - thank you for including the links. They moved me deeply.
Thank you for the prayers; please know that you are in mine.