“Grief is like a long valley, a winding valley where any bend may reveal a totally new landscape.”
― C.S. Lewis, A Grief Observed
Grief seems to me a confusing, unpredictable thing. You cry over someone’s death, then laugh about the memories you shared. You have moments of soaring hope, and longer moments of bone-weary depression. You celebrate your loved one’s journey to heaven, and then despair that they are there and not here.
It’s one of life’s more painful roller coasters.
Losing someone is a heart-wrenching phenomena that does not discriminate. We have all lost someone, or several someones, and if we are lucky to not have lost yet, we will in this lifetime. Loss touches us all, young or old, rich or poor, religious or not religious. Perhaps the reality that it is shared by all should be comforting. And in a way, it is. At least in suffering, we are never alone.
Whether we are grieving ourselves, or watching someone else grieve, you can feel so confused and helpless at times. It may leave you wondering when this will end, how long must we live this way, or what can I do to make it stop?
“I thought I could describe a state; make a map of sorrow. Sorrow, however, turns out to be not a state but a process. It needs not a map but a history…”
― C.S. Lewis, A Grief Observed
And that’s just it. Grief is not a singular event in time – as if our love for the departed would just disappear as if they were never part of us! Grief is a process. It is not segmented into stages that you accomplish one by one. Sure, you may experience the anger, depression, denial, and acceptance. But then you may loop back and experience them all again. And that’s OKAY. That’s normal. I find comfort in this because to me, it shows how exquisitely intricate our hearts are. How beautiful it is that we can experience a love so fierce, that it aches for our loved one until we are reunited with them in heaven.
Our lives have become irrevocably intertwined with their’s – we see them in everything. We remember them at every major holiday and event. How wonderful it is to have part of their heart merged with ours – and yet, it is bittersweet because that same sweet reality that we have such a love, is darkened by our very human desire to have them physically with us. And the grief goes around again.
“For in grief nothing “stays put.” One keeps on emerging from a phase, but it always recurs. Round and round. Everything repeats. Am I going in circles, or dare I hope I am on a spiral? But if a spiral, am I going up or down it? How often — will it be for always? — how often will the vast emptiness astonish me like a complete novelty and make me say, “I never realized my loss till this moment”? The same leg is cut off time after time.”
― C.S. Lewis, A Grief Observed
But despite all of this, there is hope. So much hope. Though we may feel that no one has ever felt the way that we do, there is one person who has felt that way, and more.
God’s beloved Son, suffered and died for us. He knows your grief, just as he knows mine. He not only knows it, but feels it as acutely as you do. He feels the entire world’s grief. He took it upon himself, carried it on his back, and died a horrible death so that we may have LIFE, despite death. He died that we may have HOPE ETERNAL.
So when you feel you are at the bottom of the worst grief, know that you only fall as far as the cross. He is there to catch you, to comfort you, to hold you until you can walk again. You may not feel him, but he is no less there.
“Knock and it shall be opened.’ But does knocking mean hammering and kicking the door like a maniac?”
― C.S. Lewis, A Grief Observed
It’s okay to bring your grief to Him, kicking and screaming, angry and hurt. He’ll take that, too. He’ll wait patiently, loving you all the while, until you are spent from emotion, and you collapse into his grace. He’ll hold you there, safe and sound, while your loved one and all the angels and saints pray for you, waiting for you to rejoin them in heaven. And in this, you will find healing. Over and over again.
“I need Christ, not something that resembles Him.”
― C.S. Lewis, A Grief Observed
So go to mass, or have your family and friends go for you and offer it up for you. Pray, even if your prayer looks like you lying in bed, staring at the ceiling, asking God “WHY ME?!” over and over again. Go to adoration. Go talk to a priest or other spiritual director. Spend time in nature. Surround yourself with the reality that God is bigger than grief, that this will not conquer you, because He already conquered it.
And over time, little by little, you will feel less heavy, you will cry less often, you will breathe easier, you will regain your desire for food and friends and fellowship. Slowly, on your own time, when you’re good and ready, you will begin to honor your loved one by living and loving fully.
“I know the two great commandments, and I’d better get on with them.”
― C.S. Lewis, A Grief Observed
