I’m now a full 28 months past Dale’s death. Officially into the third year. What does that mean for me? And more importantly, are there any lessons that can be helpful to you, my readers?
I remember 28 years ago after my dad died unexpectedly, a Hospice volunteer told my mom that she could expect to grieve the loss of her husband for 3-4 years. My reaction at the time was, “Yikes! How can you grieve for that long?” And I found myself being very sad for my mom.
While I clearly didn’t understand it back then, I completely get it now. But I have no expectation that my grieving will be over when I hit a pre-determined yearly death anniversary. As I’ve said many times before, THIS is my forever grief. I don’t expect to ever be the person I was before Dale’s death.
But a reasonable question to me might be (and often is), “Do you feel that your grief is less now than it was right after Dale died?” To which I’m quite sure the answer they anticipate is an unqualified, “Yes!”
It’s not quite that simple, though. I wish I could say that it’s definitely better. But there are some things about this grief that are harder now than they were 28 months ago. So, my standard reply to those who truly want to know is this; “Well, I’m not curled up in a fetal position on the bathroom floor anymore, but I have now been sad every day for 28 months and that has a cumulative effect on a person.”
Yep, that’s exactly how I answer those who really want to know! Glad you asked, right?
Now, I’m not sad and lonely and missing Dale every moment of every day. But every day has sad and lonely in it. And I’m still bombarded with bittersweet memories every day. I’ve learned that this is what my life is like as a widow. One of stark contrasts. The sadness and loneliness are exhausting.
AND YET, I’ve learned so much about myself and God’s character and promises in these 28 months, and I still enjoy countless blessings in my life, not the least of which is this ministry. To feel and see such a clear calling from God at this stage of my life is seriously mind-blowing.
So the much shorter answer to the previously posed question is, “Grief morphs.” The shape it takes on is clearly different than it was on October 16, 2017, but it is still unquestionably grief.
What are the lessons for all of you? Not that different from much of what I share through this ministry.
- Education – If this is a new revelation to you, tuck it away in that compassion toolbox you’re filling. Don’t be surprised if and when you find this phenomenon to be true in the life of one of your friends. Consider yourself informed now!
- Acknowledgment – This is one of the most powerful and comforting gifts you can give your grieving friend. Acknowledge that, of course, they’re still grieving.
- Assumptions – Simply put, don’t make them. I’m sure most people, while observing my life today, would ASSUME that I’ve mostly moved past this deep grief. I can laugh with friends and appear pretty much the same as before this life-changing death. It’s what we must do, but it doesn’t mean that, in the privacy of our homes and hearts, we aren’t still hurting and still shedding tears.
- Reach Out – Certainly it’s not expected to the degree that we saw early on, but checking in on special days, or for no reason whatsoever, will always be a huge blessing that warms our hearts.
THANK YOU for the opportunity to share these messages with you. This ministry that God has blessed me with would not exist without people like you who continue to walk with me and learn from my experiences. I’m eternally grateful for you!
I thank my God in all my remembrance of you…
Philippians 1:3