The Honest Truth About Grief

My pastor sees me after church and instantly knows I'm not doing well. It's one of my dark days, and I know everyone can see it. I've already been asked by somebody if I'm sick...because I'm quiet. The pastor asks me if I'm okay. I'm honest with him - I tell him I'm not really okay. He then tells me it looks like I could nearly cry. Frankly, I'm close to it most of the time. It doesn't take much. Because grief heightens everything and you're an internal mess and it's truthfully awkward to feel like you're wearing the effects of something most people don't understand unless they've felt it too. 

The stack of programs from all these memorial services seems to grow by the week. In the last fourteen months, having lost fifteen people I know in that span, I've come to learn a few things about grief. Although I'd been through some very hard times before, I didn't realize until this past year just how poorly we do grief in our society. We think we know how to grieve and what to expect or how to help somebody else who is bereaved but the truth is, we actually don't. And our false expectations of what the grieving process looks like can make for some difficult discoveries along the way. We anticipate the tears and the sorrow - who wouldn't be sad for awhile after losing somebody they love - but we don't anticipate the sleeplessness, the awkward impact on our social life, the brain fog and inability to remember information, the lack of concentration, the headaches, the muscle tension, the irritability, the depression, the triggers that "bring it all back" to us. We don't expect that we (or the person we know) will still be experiencing the side effects of grief months or even years after the loss. 

Statistics show that the grieving process can often take up to five years to work through. It's a fact that we don't realize it can take so long for a heart to mend. We tell others or ourselves that "time heals" but deep down, we hope and expect the one who's grieving to be back to themselves in a few months, failing to grasp that things often get much, much worse before they begin to get better. Once the initial numbness wears off following the death and the subsequent memorial service or funeral, the days and weeks after often yield darker and darker days as special occasions and anniversaries roll by and the loved one is no longer there. Reminders are everywhere of what life used to be but is no longer. People often treat grief like an illness - give a little time and, after a little while, you'll be back to normal but the reality is that, after somebody has lost a loved one (or in my case, several loved ones), they're never normal in the exact way they were before the loss. Because loss changes people. It's true they learn how to move forward with their grief after awhile, but they never "move on" or "get over it." For them, healing isn't so much a return to life the way it was prior but rather an adjusting to a new normal - a life without that special someone as part of it. 

This adjustment is often more cyclical and less progressive than our society makes it out to be. We want a set formula - a gradual process by which we can monitor how we're doing and if things are improving over time. But truth is, grief doesn't follow a process. It comes in waves, often unexpectedly. You may be having a decent day today and your mind may have created some distance between you and your grief but tomorrow, you may have a very hard day where it all hits you and you feel helpless to do anything about it. In the roller coaster that is the grieving process, friends and community can play a very vital role in providing stability and love for the person who is grieving. Those who grieve want their friends to come alongside them in the adjustment and assure them of their support and commitment as they transition. 

But let's be honest here: the grieving process does take a significant toll on the relationships around the person who is processing their personal loss. As much as friends and family want to help ease the pain and make things better, it can be frustrating to figure out how to help the person in their time of sadness. While meaning well, words can be said awkwardly and come across to them as insensitive or uncaring. Sometimes it's easier to distance ourselves from the hurting because it's too uncomfortable to walk the journey with them. But in so doing, the grieving are denied what they most need at this time in their life - community. 

One of the most striking realizations I've come to in the last year regarding grief is that often the community support for the grieving fall into three separate groups: 

1. They care and desire to console but they're so afraid they'll say or do the wrong thing or are so concerned to bring up the loss for fear of upsetting the person, they don't say anything at all. They are simply silent. 

2. They do express compassion and sympathy and make it clear they want to help but, in order to respect the person's space, they just tell the person to "reach out anytime" or tell them "what they can do to help." 

In these first two groups, the response is wrong. In actuality, the grieving person wants to talk about their loss. Their missing loved one is often all they think of and talking about them keeps the memories alive and allows them to process. They are also so absorbed in navigating the grieving process that they don't know what will help and often don't have the emotional energy to reach out or to initiate contact with others unless it's a super close friend. 

The third group is the one you want to be in, however: 

3. They instinctively know the situation and they know the person and simply act without being asked. They call or text to "just check in" or they invite you over to dinner if you're up to it or let you know they're picking you up for coffee. But they know you, so they don't need to ask or place the burden of initiation on you. In recent months, I cannot tell you how touching it's been when a friend has dropped a note to me in the mail expressing their sympathy and prayers or texted just to make sure that I'm holding up okay. Or, like my boss's wife did, ordered a book for me she'd found helpful because she'd been there. When you're hurting, it truly is the little things that sometimes speak more than all the platitudes and words in the world. 

If you're going to help somebody through their grief, be in it for the long haul and get to know the person well enough before the grief hits that you don't have to be prompted to show your care. And when words fail you, just give the gift of your presence and your love. The grieving person will tell you when they need space and quiet. They will create distance if that's what is most helpful at the time. But to just assume they want to be left alone when, in reality, they are the most lonely is to misjudge what they need and desire the most. 

Don't be afraid to move into the pain and show your love. Sometimes it's a simple text to let the grieving person know you're thinking of them or a phone call to just ask them how they're doing and listen. The thing the grieving want most is the gift of your time, your love, and your presence. They don't need you to offer solutions or try to "fix" their situation. They just need you to show up and tell them you're there for them. 

If you're the one grieving, let me just leave you with a word of encouragement: be patient with yourself and the process. I feel your frustrations and your discouragement on the days that are tough. I'm dealing with many of those days on a regular basis. I know it's hard to function sometimes, but keep telling yourself that this won't last forever. It may feel that way for a time, but things will get better eventually. But until then, give yourself permission to feel the way you do - it's okay to not be okay because it's only proof that you're human and that you loved deeply. There's nothing wrong with you for feeling this way. Keep finding those things that offer you some peace in the process - certain music, time out in nature, reading, artwork of some kind - whatever it is, find your therapy and keep the faith, knowing that God will pull you through. 

Life is not easy, and grief is proof of that. But through it all, God's goodness and love for humanity still remain and there is never a day so dark that His light is not present. Hope on, hurting ones, and keep living large and loving deep. This season of hardship will pass in time and we can be better people, better friends because of it.