Denial...Anger...Bargaining...Depression...Acceptance.
Oh, is that it? I will simply travel this road called 'The Stages of Grief' and find myself whole on the other side, at peace with the loss I have experienced. My personal experience with grief has never been so cut and dried. It looks a bit more like: denial, anger, depression, tears, more tears, tears over seemingly unrelated events, again with the anger, a bit of isolation, and then maybe some numbness to finish off the process. Maybe you can relate to this, maybe yours looks much different. One thing I have seen very vividly in the last month is how differently each person processes an experience of loss.
In my church family, in my marriage, and my extended family as well right now, there is grief that abounds. We are in the middle of the holiday season as I compose this entry, a time to be full of cheer, thanksgiving, awe and wonder. I am full enough to offer those things as well, but there is a deep part of me that is lost in sadness and grief at this time as well.
I read the post I published just prior to this one, it speaks of being surrounded by beauty, and thought to myself, "Wow, a lot can change in the time it takes leaves to fall in the Willamette Valley." In actuality however, not that much is different. But as with any grief process, emotions ebb and flow. This month the depression is more prevalent than the acceptance. Our pastor is leaving, and my father-in-law is fighting a battle with renal cell cancer. My dad is hopeful, as am I, but I have been shaken to my core nonetheless. While our pastor's leaving is safely in the palm of God's hand, and I am eager to see what He has in store for our church in this next chapter, I am also grieving much in this time.
How do you do grief 'well'? What does that mean or tangibly look like? I can't say that I fully know. Unfortunately, I know more about what it looks like to do it poorly. I have accomplished that for years. Among the highlights are the time I hid in the basement, snuck out quietly, and yet another time I busied myself to the point of exhaustion. It doesn't come naturally for me to move in and out of each phase of grieving. Even more difficult is for me to honor the emotions that come up again when I thought I had finished feeling that way about the loss. Anger? Again? I try to convince myself there is no need to be angry, but that seems only to make it worse. The same is true for my tears. I feel as if I am floating on a river without paddle or oar to guide my small vessel. What I hope for myself is that, with compassion as my companion, I would let the current of this grief process take over, without fear of the path that lies ahead. My fighting it is only hindering the process. I have a sense that healing will come as I embrace the natural, if unpredictable, path of grief. Let my boat drift this meandering river, finding healing in each whirlpool of denial, snag of anger, and flow of tears, in which I currently find myself.
