If you had asked me a few weeks ago if I had suffered much grief, I would have said no. I have many friends who've lost parents, grandparents, siblings and even children. I have always felt incredibly inept at knowing what to say or how to help them. Because I didn't know grief.
The obvious experiences of grief are when someone loses a loved one suddenly in an accident or watches them fade slowly with a terminal illness, or loses a child in some way. Another common cause of grief is suicide and I've had too many friends who've dealt with that. I know little personally of these things. My parents are still alive, I haven't lost siblings. Recently, though, I lost a close friend, still can't believe she's gone, and that has become the catalyst for what the Lord was already working on in my life, that I was doing my best to avoid - hidden, buried grief.
Hidden griefs, buried griefs are so much harder to see and recognise, even for the person who has suffered those. And it seems that I'm becoming an expert at knowing about that and not by choice. But then people rarely become acquainted with grief by choice.
In dealing with Anne's death, I found myself just being altogether unfamiliar with how to process that, and terrified of giving in to it. I felt like I was going to drown in it, so it was best to avoid it, only it was now impossible because watching her funeral online brought it down like a tsunami.
But I also found myself withdrawing from people. Withdrawing from people was always my default position in times past, but the Lord has pushed me again and again to change that default, to be vulnerable and honest and to reach out. I recognised the all-too-familiar shame and fear and guilt that has made me inclined to withdraw, and started asking the Lord 'why'. Why am I pulling back, hiding, withdrawing, not wanting to reach out and ask for help to process this? Why am I ashamed of being sad, why do I feel guilty for being upset, and why am I afraid of grief?
You see, I've been avoiding grief, hidden grief, for a while now, years really, but quite intentionally for months. I agreed with the Lord that I would face it, but have found excuses not to actually keep working through that process. Anne's death has become a catalyst for the Lord once again bringing me back around to it. He does that - brings us back around to the same test, the same trial, the same hurdle until we overcome, not to punish but to set us free.
Yesterday, I went for a drive on the guise of picking up groceries, but really I just needed to get out of here for a bit. I cried for two hours and eventually picked up the groceries. The poor young woman at Coles Click and Collect looked at me, but didn't ask. I'm glad she didn't.
I sat at the local lookout and the Lord met me there and took me back to this picture and started to answer my questions.
For years, I could remember going on a long walk to this park one summer's evening, with my Australian grandfather, Fardy, and my brother, Pete. I loved the adventure and just hanging out with him. I remember when we got back to our place, my mother was furious with all of us, and we were never allowed to go again. I'm not sure of her reasons, and I've never asked. I had not been able to locate the park until very recently. Turns out, it's just a block or two from where my daughter and her hubby have just purchased a home.
My mother didn't allow us to have a close relationship with Fardy, not sure why and I knew not to ask. There are many things I could wonder, but I don't know. Fardy was an alcoholic, a very broken man, lost in grief from the loss of his wife, Nell.
But my memories are of a funny man who lived in a dark, almost creepy house, with a talking cockatoo called Kathryn. His relationship with my father was strained but I enjoyed his company. He didn't drink at our house, only in the privacy of his own home. He told us stories of his droving days and let us ride on his old horse, Dixie.
When I was 11, Fardy died after a long battle with lung cancer. Everyone around me was very anxious but it was my first, up-close experience of death so I really had no idea what to do. My mother was anxious and angry, and so I withdrew, as I had learnt to do so many times with her. We were not allowed to say goodbye to him. We were not allowed to go to the funeral, nor to discuss him at all. That was Mum's way of handling things. Her father had died suddenly a year earlier and she couldn't go to his funeral because it was in England. Mum didn't cope well with any kind of emotion and she rarely attended funerals, even of close family members. To be fair, her own mother was a survivor of two world wars, a very stoic and hardened survivor, and not one Mum could lean on in any way.
So, suddenly, I find myself grieving a grandfather, 40+ years later, and all the years we missed out on. He was my last grandparent to go and the only one I really saw much of. Perhaps we could have had a decent relationship if he'd lived till I was an adult. I don't know, but either way, I missed out and that's part of grief I guess - that understanding that someone significant is missing from your life, permanently, and your life is poorer for their absence.
Pete and I were not allowed to be upset about his death, and Mum certainly wasn't someone we could get comfort from. So I buried it, and I guess it set a pattern for how I viewed grief and how I handled the
miscarriages later on. Grief was something to be feared and ashamed of and I felt guilty for anything that caused Mum more anxiety, or anyone else any kind of strain.
And I've felt all those things again over the last week or so, months really, but this time I recognised that they aren't healthy. I have a choice, this time, to reach out for help and to be vulnerable with trustworthy people, and I'm very blessed to have a few of those people in my life.
The Lord somehow, as only He knows how, lifted off that fear yesterday, so that I am no longer afraid of drowning in grief, which was an overwhelming fear. Nor am I feeling shame or guilt over the need to express grief and be comforted.
Blessed be the God and Father of our Lord Jesus Christ, the Father of mercies and God of all comfort, who comforts us in all our tribulation 2 Cor 1:3,4
Once again, His truth has overturned the lies and set me free. Once again, He walked through the storm and held out His righteous right hand and pulled me up and calmed the waves.
Fear not, for I am with you;
Be not dismayed, for I am your God.
I will strengthen you,
Yes, I will help you,
I will uphold you with My righteous right hand.’ Isa 41:10
It doesn't change the grief. In fact, He's opening up more areas of buried grief. But, I've gone from, 'I can't do this!' to understanding that I can walk through grief, with Him, Emmanuel, God with us, who is well acquainted with grief and a very present help in times of trouble.
God is our refuge and strength, a very present help in trouble.
Therefore we will not fear, even though the earth be removed,
And though the mountains be carried into the midst of the sea;
Though its waters roar and be troubled, though the mountains shake with its swelling.
Ps 46:1-3
Do I want to face that grief? No, I definitely do not, but grief IS a part of my story and I need to own it and face it and let it come out from its hiding place in order to be healed. But now I don't do it alone and I'm empowered to actually move forward.
Be of good courage, and He shall strengthen your heart, all you who hope in the Lord. Ps 31:24
The words from a
song that just happened to be the next one on the CD I was listening to in the car yesterday.
You are the medicine
The only cure for everything I feel within
Redeeming what was lost and all that could have been
Oh, this is a healing kind of love
You are the truest Friend
Staying through the night when I was at my end
Comforting my heart till it was light again
Oh, this is a faithful kind of love
Yes, it is
Everlasting Father, Prince of Peace
Immanuel, God with us, You're here with me
Wonderful Counsellor
The government is resting on Your shoulders
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