Before and After Grief – the Long Good-Bye

As I started to write this post, I couldn’t decide if it was more about my journey through this grief – or if it was more about practical advice for my readers.  That really only matters to me because I’m keeping track of the kinds of posts I write on this ministry site, for variety’s sake.  So, for whatever it’s worth, it’s both!

I want to take a look at two very different kinds of grief, and how they may or may not overlap.  Maybe you’ve experienced this yourself; maybe you’ve been an observer and wondered just how to interact in these situations.

I’m talking about anyone who has struggled through the heartbreak of losing a loved one a little bit at a time.  Maybe it was because of Alzheimer’s or another form of dementia, maybe it was the long, drawn-out pain of dying from cancer; maybe it was a chronic illness or disability that eventually led to their death.

Regardless of how you lose them, the pain is real and deep and often lasts for years.  I experienced this first with my mom who died in 2008.  Fortunately, she didn’t forget who people were, but she struggled with so much confusion and anxiety as the disease progressed.  And I watched my brilliant mom, who graduated at age 16 with straight A-s, struggle with even the simplest of tasks.  It broke my heart.

Ironically, the year she died was also the year that Dale was diagnosed with vascular dementia – and so my next journey with this horrible disease began.  But this was so much more “in-my-face” since it was my husband of 22 years at that point, and the man I’d loved most of my adult life.

In those last painful years, it felt like life was just a series of steps downward and I grieved every one of them.  Every time there was one more thing that Dale couldn’t do anymore, or couldn’t comprehend any more, or couldn’t enjoy any more, my heart broke a little more.

It became a very predictable pattern – take a step down, grieve that loss, “accept” that new normal, wait for the next step down.  Repeat until the end.

So, here’s the real crux of this situation, and the question we must ask.  Does losing your loved one a little bit at a time make the grief over their eventual death any less?  For me, and for the countless others I’ve talked with about this, the answer is a resounding, “NO!”

But I completely understand why one might expect that.  I wondered that myself.  And I have to admit, there was a part of me that actually HOPED I had grieved most of what I had lost of Dale so that his actual death wouldn’t be so hard.

Admittedly, there can certainly be an element of relief that someone’s pain – either physical or mental – is now over.  And I believe that can be a legitimate source of comfort.

As an observer, you might see this as a reason why someone’s grieving might not be so deep.  Or maybe the loved one who died was older, and that’s another reason why the pain or loss should be less.  In my case, I had both.  And yet neither circumstance lessened my grieving.

Honestly, I was shocked by the length and depth of the pain I felt upon Dale’s death and continue to struggle with, despite all the grieving I had done for the years prior to it.

I’ve tried to analyze that a bit, to figure out why before AND after grief must exist.  I don’t have any good answers.  They were different, but they were both grieving.  I know that I’m still living it.  I don’t feel that the heartache I’m going through now was lessened one bit by the grieving I did for years before Dale died.  It’s essentially like grieving TWO deaths.

So, what is the practical advice in this?  Here are a few for your consideration:

• Don’t assume that any relief someone might be experiencing after a long, drawn-out death means that they are done grieving.
• Death after a long illness just means the grieving person has stepped through the door into ANOTHER kind of grief.
• Be careful about making any kind of assumptions as to what this grief should now look like.
• Always err on the side of assuming grief goes on longer than you might expect.
• BE patient and extend much grace.  They are weary from this long, hard journey and the road ahead may look daunting.
• Continue to pray for them – and let them know that you are.

Blessed are those who mourn, for they shall be comforted.

Matthew 5:4