Well, a million might be an exaggeration, but it opens up a topic I don’t often see addressed in great depth. It seems several of my posts lately have been multi-purpose. My original ministry focus was on helping the support system of a grieving person to know how best to walk alongside them compassionately. And that remains a desire of my heart.
Maybe because “The Honest Griever” focused on my own widow journey, and how to help others in the same club – and the fact that I’m working on a digital course looking at this topic, I find myself ALSO drawn to the needs of the grieving person.
So, this post will provide food for thought (unintentional pun) for BOTH groups, with different goals. I want the grieving person to feel empowered to share their realities whenever and wherever it feels appropriate. And maybe even more so, I want them to know they are not alone, and they are not losing it.
For the support person, I ask you, once again, to hear my heart on this subject and take me at my word when I share my story and my insights. It’s important that you know these “inside scoops” if you desire to be as compassionate as possible with your hurting friend.
Enough of the intro! Let’s get to the story.
I was recently on a getaway vacation with a friend over the third anniversary of Dale’s death. It’s a date when I need to be away from my home because it can be so very lonely on these hard days. I need a bit of a diversion. So, on the evening of October 16th, my friend and I were enjoying a wonderful meal at a great steakhouse in West Palm Beach.
When the salad arrived, I was reminded of all the times I gave Dale my peppers or onions or even tomatoes in exchange for taking his croutons. Routine event every time we ate out. And rather than keep it to myself as I always do, I shared the memory with my friend.
I soon heard a crash from somewhere near the kitchen and was reminded of what Dale always said when something like that happened. “Put it down anywhere you want.” It made me smile and, again, I shared the memory with my friend.
When our main course came and I sliced into one of the best filet mignon steaks I’ve had in a long time, I was reminded of Dale’s response whenever a server would ask him if he wanted any steak sauce on his steak. “Not if it’s a good steak.” And I shared my memory with my friend.
Even the baked potato she received with her entrée reminded me that it was Dale’s go-to potato choice whenever we ate out – with lots of butter and sour cream of course.
I don’t know if it was because this was the anniversary of his death, or if I knew she would understand my need to share these memories with her, or some combination of both, but I felt compelled to talk about them rather than ponder them just in my heart, as I always do.
But the point I want to make is that, for those of us grieving the loss of someone dear, our lives are inundated with memories, some completely mundane like these meal memories. If you’ve lost a spouse, the opportunity for memories is exponential.
Dale and I were together for over 35 years. There’s no one in my life that I have had more moments with than him. So of course the potential for memories, both large and small, is nearly inexhaustible. And these memories work their way into our lives ALL. THE. TIME!
It’s a double-edged sword, for sure – one I’ve written about often. The sheer volume often feels like a bombardment, but the precious memories are what sustain me through the long days and nights. And sometimes, they bring tears.
So, if you’re grieving a spouse or close loved one, please know, dear friend, that any memory onslaught you “suffer” through, is so normal and mostly out of your control. Embrace it and see it through a lens of gratitude that you have some happy memories, too. I genuinely believe it’s one of the gifts God bestows on us through this season of loss.
To those of you wanting to support us, please extend a little grace and understanding if we sometimes share our memories more often than you would like, or would consider “reasonable.” I guarantee the percentage of shared versus unshared is pathetically small. Almost always we experience them privately, in the depth of our souls.
One final word of caution – it can often be our normal inclination to dwell on unpleasant memories, which are likely a regret more than just a memory. REMEMBER that God forgives us when we humbly ask, no matter what we’ve done. So don’t camp out on those regretful memories, but look for the ones that bring gratitude to your heart. Or even just a little smile as the memory of the mortified waiter dropping a tray of dishes did for me.
I remember the days of old; I meditate on all that you have done;
I ponder the work of your hands.
Psalm 143:5