Grief comes like an unwanted and unvited companion. . . like a distant cousin you really don't like but have to tolerate. Of all the emotions, we dislike the most, grief surely tops the list. Who, after all, wants to cry and lament? Who wants to be paralized inside? Who wants to feel the convergence of anger and passion in such messy ways?
My grief is complicated because I not only have lost my father--the most influential man in my life but my siblings are having to deal with my Mom who is feeble and frail at 87. I escorted her to see my father at the funeral home and heard her private sobs and moans of having to accept the inevitability of losing her companion of 67 years of marriage. My grief in losing my own dad seems like it has had to be on hold until I can return home to Colorado. Every waking moment of this past week has been filled with details and clutter of lists of what has to be done. There's been very little--if any time to allow what has happened to sink in.
Time will be needed and Gwen is coaching me about how not to negate time in this journey. She's pulling up memories of losing her Mom 8 years ago. It's all helpful to remember. I've cancelled so much I fear what people will think but it seems right to have done.
I'm glad to turn yet again to Lazarus. I need his help now. It's helpful for me to remember that even his name, Lazarus means, "God helps us." Lazarus has been a steady friend and mentor to me and now in my grief I sense him calling to me yet again that there are still things I must learn in the life of Lazarus that I might have glanced at or felt irrelevant as I was writing the book. Surely, Lazarus, and his two sisters knew much about grief. I want to read that story again today and see what I might see now in light of my own jarring reality.
It seems fitting to really begin the blog on The Lazarus Life about a jarring, uninvited incident that has happened in my life. I need to turn somewhere to process my feelings and why not here--to this blog to allow others to coach, help and cheer me on. Let the BLog begin. Let Grief do what only grief can do...transform me.
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3 comments:
Steve, I don't even know where to begin. There is no way anyone can understand what you are going thru; I'm trying to only because I know you pretty well and I lost my Dad too altho I was a little younger than you are now when my Dad died (He was only 67)Here are 2 thoughts that I'm praying will offer even the smallest amount of comfort. 1) Time really does heal. I admit that years later the smallest thing could trigger a grief response BUT with time it did get better and 2) Since your Dad believed in Christ (I'm pretty sure I met him in Holland) you absolutely know you will see him again and enjoy your relationship once more. I'm thinking of you and praying with you often my friend. Mike
Steve,
I am reading. And I am calling you to mind and heart in these days.
Scott S
Steve, I only met you and your wife once when I drove up from the Springs to see your place (a year or so ago). I have not lost a parent but lost a brother to suicide nearly 30 years ago, and am still dealing with some issues related to that; how I need His grace for a breakthrough. A scripture that I cling to is Isa. 53:4 "...surely He has born our griefs and carried our sorrows." May the Lord cover us all with His grace. Barb O.
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