ANOTHER KIND OF GRIEF

 Another kind of grief

 

       BY THE TIME we reach middle age, most of us have lived through the death of a loved one. When each loss occurs, we learn something about the process of handling death and grief as a part of life.

    Although I’d experienced that kind of grief before, nothing prepared me for the sorrow I experienced when my wife broke her back for the second time and had to quit work. I didn’t even recognize the torrent of emotions like grief. 

    I knew about the grieving stages first outlined by psychiatrist Elisabeth Kubler-Ross (in her 1969 book On Death and Dying), but I didn’t think her theory applied to me as a caregiver whose spouse was still alive. Though the stages—anger, denial, bargaining, depression, and acceptance—are most often associated with death. I learned that Kubler-Ross applied them to any catastrophic event in a person’s life. And anyone who has a family member with a degenerating genetic ailment knows how catastrophic that is. 

    In the wake of a life-threatening diagnosis, both the patient and the family are likely to go through some or all of these emotional stages of grief from mealy anticipating the impending loss. I found myself continually thinking. How will I handle Marian’s death? Will I spend the rest of my life alone? Will this sadness ever leave me? Even if the disease isn’t terminal, there’s still a tremendous loss—loss of health, loss of occupation, loss of shared activities, loss of intimacy.    

    I didn’t think I had a right to my feelings. After all, I wasn’t the one who was sick and or hurting.  I was immeasurably depressed and afraid, but guilt plagued me whenever I felt like complaining. I scolded myself over and over like a cruel coach: Stop this self-pity. You should be able to handle this. What kind of a wimp are you? Where is your faith? 

    I’ve since learned that all those emotions are, in fact, valid. Whether we are grieving the loss of a parent, a marriage, our job, even a beloved pet, our pain matters to God—Scripture is clear on that. But it also shows us how to handle emotions resulting from loss so that they don’t control or paralyze us.

    Here are some (Note: some not all by any means) of the simple actions that make all the difference for me throughout Marian’s ongoing illness. The pain keeps on keeping on 24/7.

 

IMMERSE yourself in God’s Word. In Psalms 119:28, David cries to the Lord, “My soul is weary with sorrow; strengthen me according to unto your word (NIV). We can’t find strength in Scripture if we don’t know it. Read from the Psalms if you are unfamiliar with the Bible; these transparent prayers reveal God’s heart and character and can often give us the words to pray when we are at a loss ourselves.

 

PRAISE God for who He is. Psalm 147:3 says that the Lord “heals the brokenhearted and binds up their wounds” (NIV).  But immediately before that, we read David’s words, ‘How good it is to sing praises to our God” (v.1). Choosing to honor God and willing ourselves to take e joy in who He is open the door that allows receiving His comfort fully.

 

THANK Him for His past faithfulness.  Philippians 4:6-7 tells us that to attain real peace, we should come to the Lord with “Thanksgiving.” Often, it is the very times we feel least grateful that we most desperately need to give thanks; thanksgiving opens our eyes to God’s ever-present goodness. At first, the words got stuck in my mouth, but as I forced myself to sing worship songs, gratitude began to flow more naturally. Then I made a list of everything I was grateful for—which amazingly wasn’t as difficult as I’d imagined. I thanked the Lord for doctors, who had found Marian’s impairment, for our loving family and friends, and for the countless ways God had provided for my wife and me during our 25 years of marriage. And then I thanked Him in advance for the good He would bring out of our situation. 

 

    It was during this time of seeing her suffer so much that I finally came to understand what Paul says in 2 Corinthians 12:9: “Most gladly, therefore, will I rather glory in my infirmities, that the power of Christ may rest upon me” (KJV). My grief didn’t disappear overnight, but when I chose to look unto God each time I was downhearted, He comforted me profoundly. To experience joy amid trial seems like a paradox, but joy and sorrow are arms extending from the same emotion. And when emotions are raw, our senses are sharpened so that both extremes are far more acutely felt. Marian and I discovered a deep joy possible only when sorrow is hovering close by. We feel worse if we miss our devotions each day. We try to have communion together; which is a real source of joy for both of us. And we do a lot of reminiscing of the way it used to be.

    So if you would by chance, read this, and your heart is breaking, choose to inject your grief with hope in the one who will never leave you. When you take that step, you become aware of how His Spirit has come to walk alongside you through this valley. And miraculously, you’ll find that His grace and peace beyond human understanding are, indeed, truly enough. 

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