Grief and Gratitude: The Sun will shine again!
“Your sun will never set again, and your moon will wane no more; the Lord will be your everlasting light, and your days of sorrow will end.” Isaiah 60:20
Grief is no joke. It’s suffocating, and debilitating and the confusion it brings can affect every aspect of life. In its wake lies destruction, like a tsunami it consumes, devours, and turns everything upside down.
I know because I’ve lived it. I know because I’ve talked to others who have survived it. I know because I see it in the faces of those who are in the midst of it now.
And my heart goes out to them. My heart burns for them. My heart yearns to help them.
They say time heals all wounds, but I don’t know if I believe that to be true. That would insinuate that the pain would lessen as time passes by. But I have not found that to be true in my life, in my experience with grief.
In psychology, they talk about the four stages of grief. I’ve done workshops about grief. I’ve been to therapy, group sessions, talked to friends and family. Cried more tears than I can count.
I’ll never forget being in a group session while living in San Francisco. It was 6 years after my Dad passed. 6 years. You’d think I’d be over it all by then. But in the middle of meeting, it all became crystal clear. What I had been experiencing, all those years of roller coaster emotions, uncertainty, deep soul pain, inner chaos and turmoil… it was grief. I had never truly seen it before. I decided to throw all the “I should be better by now” or “what stage of grief am I in?” or “what am I doing with my life?” questions out the window and stare straight at the realization that grief isn’t the same for everyone. Just like there is no one right diet for every human, which I learned in nutrition school, there is no one perfect, singular picture of grief. And right then and there, something shifted inside of me. I came to accept grief as I experienced grief.
At the beginning, I was numb, in shock, total disbelief. His death came out of no where, and I was not in a stable enough place in my personal life to handle the aftermath. My nature has always been to help and serve others. To give all that I had to help others achieve their dreams. This is not a bad thing to do as long as the person has a cup that runs over with extra energy, love and resources. But when that cup is dry and the habit of serving and giving is still being extended, then we have a problem.
I didn’t know how to not help others. I wanted to help my mom, my brother, my grandmother, my family. After the funeral, I attempted to go back to Los Angeles to work, which was chaotic and stressful and overwhelming. I tried to stay strong and continue to be all that I could be to those I felt responsibility for and those I loved. It proved too much; I collapsed under the pressure. Every aspect of my life fell apart. And grief would. not. quit.
It wasn’t until years passed that I began to realize what happened. I am big on learning the life lessons the first time, when possible. To take inventory of myself, my life, my habits, where I messed up, what I did wrong, how I can avoid making the same mistakes again.
The biggest takeaway was that I did not speak up, ask for the help I needed to clearly define what was going on inside of me. I did not ask for help.
Looking back, it would have been vital to take a time out from life, even for a month, and regroup. Dissect my life and see what was working, not working, what I wanted, how to heal. In hindsight, I would have used more of the tools and the education I had accumulated along the way to heal myself, or at least found healers and mentors around me to hold me accountable to my own healing process. Accountability is key, especially when grief is involved. Because on those days when everything turns black, we need those select few people in our corner who will be there no matter what. Those people who we have appointments with, those appointments that will get us out of bed in the morning and into the world again.
And voice. In the suffocation of grief, I felt like I lost my voice. Like it was snuffed out, my fire reduced to a tiny ember. I knew if that ember died, I would too. I was down to my last breath. What is it about being at the very end of the rope that somehow activates the only power we have left inside? That’s what happened to me. It was years after his death, but there came a day when I knew I was almost dead. And if I didn’t do something quick, it would be lights out forever.
I’ve often wondered what is my motivation in life? What is that thing that keeps me going? I look back to this moment of darkness and realize it wasn’t vanity that kept me going or harm to my body; it was doing all I could to simply not die. And even though I wanted to give up so many times, it was always this deep, strong will to live that brought me out of the darkness and into the light.
Growing up, my Dad was my everything. I’m a farmer’s daughter, a Daddy’s girl. I remember riding on his shoulders while moving quickly through crowds, getting a bird’s eye view of everything and everyone. Feeling so special and loved when in his arms. I remember him throwing us really high into the air as a child and into the water, whether it was at the lake or the ocean. Either way, I felt so happy and free and safe and content. And he was so funny too. Always making the simple things fun and full of adventure. I loved that about him.
I’m sure I hid behind him, even as an adult. I grew up feeling his protection when around him and relied on him to help me make the big decisions in life as I grew up. Especially in college. I needed his help and guidance in every area of my life, it seemed, and he was always there to listen to me and guide me as best as he knew how. We always ended the conversation with “I love you”. I’m so thankful those were my last words to him that day when I was in Los Angeles on a lunch break, and he was in Arkansas with a horrible headache. The last words we said were “I love you. I love you, too.”
Over the years since his death, one of the hardest things I’ve had to learn was to stand on my own two feet. I’ve had nothing to hide behind. No career. No marriage. No father. Nothing. Absolutely nothing. Everything was swept away in one huge wave it seemed and nothing was left except me, whatever was left of me- and that was what I had on the inside. I had no choice but to stare at myself in the mirror and investigate. What do I see? Who am I without that career, those people, living in that place, or having those things? When it’s all gone, what is left? I felt like I was nothing, had nothing to offer, had nothing to give.
Returning to the home where I grew up, returning to my family was beautiful and incredibly hard at the same time. Reminders of my mistakes were all around me. Reminders of my Dad left and right. It was almost too much to bear. Some days I have no idea how I got this far down the path. No. freaking. idea. But honestly, I do know. I know exactly how I got here. And that is God; by the Grace of God. There is no other explanation.
I feel so blessed to have a father who treated me with such care, tenderness, strength, lovingkindness, honesty, adventure, and pure joy, tons of fun. The way he loved me was a great model of how my God loves me. Because of the way my Dad loved me and treated me, after his death, I latched onto God. It was like a veil was torn in two and I was able to see into the unseen. I often wish I could put into words the spiritual experiences I have in daily life, and if I could put them into words, I would share them so generously with all the world. Anyone who would listen!
Because I know my life is evidence of the existence of God. I know. Otherwise I would not be here. God is my very Breath. I cannot breathe without Him. And I know others feel the same way about their lives. I’ve met so many of them along the way. We always seem to find one another at just the right moment, saying just the right things. So magical this life can be when choosing to look through the lens of gratitude.
What grief has taught me:
- God is all that truly matters, all that is real.
- Humans are stronger than we think. There is great value in learning to live again, in a brand new way. Using food as medicine to not only heal and strengthen the physical body but also the mind and the soul. Finding ways to move the body is key; this circulates the energy, the emotions, preventing stagnation and therefore additional pain.
- Sometimes things are taken away to create space for something more profound and lasting to be given.
- Without pain, we would have nothing to offer the world. We are here to develop our character to prepare us for our true Home. This is not the end. This is the beginning. This world and this life is not it. This is not our end destination.
- Those who pass away are still with us. We are not all that we see with the physical eye. What is real is alive in the unseen. Those who encounter, endure, survive the darkest nights are then given eyes and access into a higher realm and brighter light. So do not stop. No matter what dark days are upon you, know the best is yet to come. Never give up.
- Learning to stand in transparency and vulnerability is not easy. To not hide behind work or money or people or places or material things takes great courage. But as soon as we do, we are truly free. Find people who live like this and connect with them. There is so much more for us to do here than what meets the eye.
- The harder we fall, the less we judge others. The less we condemn. The less we rage. The less we point fingers. And the more we see through eyes of love and compassion. The more we give others the benefit of the doubt. The more generous we become, not just with material things but with our time, love, attention and energy. I went to the bottom of the pit and somehow came out alive. Very few things upset me or can cause me to get my feathers ruffled. But when they do, I can use my voice and speak up today. And know when to bite my tongue, pick my battles. Something about staring death in the face will do that to you.
- Fear can be a great teacher. So can sadness and despair. They can open our hearts out of desperation to a world of compassion and kindness and grace (unmerited favor), compelling us to generously give and help others who are still in the grieving process.
- Unmerited favor. God’s Grace. This is real. And here for you. IF you choose to receive it.
- I learned a huge lesson over the years and that is how to gracefully receive. For one who has always been the giver (feels so good, doesn’t it?!), it was a completely humbling process to receive, especially when I knew I did not deserve what was so freely being given to me. But through learning to receive from others, I’ve learned to fully receive blessings, opportunities and gifts from God. I’ve come to hear The Voice in my very own heart loud and clear. And no one can take that away from me. And no one can take that away from you.
Today I reflect on this because of the Bible verse in Isaiah I read this morning. The last line saying that God is my light, brighter than the moon and the sun, and my sorrow will end. And when I read that, I felt a shift in my heart. A shift I had never experienced before. Like God was speaking directly to me. I had read verses like this before and somehow they seemed written for others but not for me. But this morning was different.
And so I felt compelled to share this with you. Maybe there is someone out there who is struggling with grief, loss and pain and needs to find this message of hope. If you know someone who is in a dark place and feel this post will help them, please share. I would love to connect with you and encourage you.
With all my love,
TBA
2-18-2020 @ 8:20pm CST
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