Grief 4: Life and Death

 

We had a glorious Easter—Alleluias, soaring music, sunshine, flowers, and warmth. I was reminded, though, that in order to have Easter, you must have Good Friday first. As CS Lewis famously said, "The pain I feel now is the happiness I had before. That is the deal."

My readers are probably aware this has been a difficult year. You may not know I lost both one of my daughters and my Beloved of 54 years in a space of three weeks at the beginning of the year. It is a lot to swallow. It will take a good long year of mourning before I can approach normal, if then.

This weekend I discovered the concept of "widow brain," a state that includes brain fog and fatigue. there is a growing body of science about the impact of loss on brain function. My whole brain is building new pathways and struggling with old ones. It explained a lot. Every thing I do from the time I get up until i go to bed (and especially then) is new and different. Expected stimuli are missing, new ones forming. No wonder I'm exhausted.

I continue to write daily, or try at least. This week I'm flying off to visit family. They live at an airport in a condo facing a pond visited by migrating birds. It will be a good break. This morning, I have to pack. And write. But first, coffee!

(This was originally posted on Caroline Warfield's blog. Caroline is Carol's pseudonym for novel writing.)

Death and Aging

Jesus, who destroyed death and brought life and immortality to light through the gospel...
2 Timothy 1:10

I look at the skin on my hands and it is withering, like the leaves that are turning brown, curling up and falling to the ground. Death is heavy with me this Autumn. Is it delayed reaction to my father's death last winter? He took with him the last buffer between me and the next world. Is it the whisper of the Holy Spirit? He whispers, "Life is temporary, let go of attachment to it."

My natural reaction is rage. We are called to be more than that. Only in Jesus is there strength in the face of bodily death.

Memorial Day (or, Mourning Again)

I went about mourning as though for my friend or brother. I bowed my head in grief as though weeping for my mother.

Psalm 35:13-15

Here's to those fallen in battle, may we revere their memory always. Here's to the mangled and maim who come back to us, they deserve our care and thanks.

Here, also, is tribute and respect to the living dead, the walking wounded, the ones who left their life on a battlefield somewhere, and filled out the rest of their days in a kind of grey half life, never quite the husbands or fathers they were before, never living the lives they would have led. Long before modern psychology named it PTSD they were among us.

Here, above all, is a salute to those who got back husband, brother, friend, father but never really got him back. I weep for my mother.

Mourning

For my days are vanishing like smoke
my bones burn away like a fire.
My heart is withered like the grass.
Psalm 102

April 4

There are losses that can never be replaced. Sadness and loss can swamp you unexpectedly long after you thought you were healed. Are you letting God down?

There are losses that make you acutely aware of your own failures. There is death, and there is the failure to give life. Can you refuse God's forgiveness and healing?

April, always April. "Breeding flowers in a dead land." MLK died April 4, 1968. Many perished in Xenia April 4, 1974, and one died a distance away at the same time. All deaths are equal in God's eyes. All life is from him. Can you refuse life?

No. Before you there is life and death. Choose life, with all its cyclic pain and rebirth, joy and sorrow, death and resurrection.

It's the blight that man was born for. It is Margaret that you mourn for. (cummings)

Listen Don't Talk

when I called, you did not answer,when I spoke, you did not listen
Isaiah 65:12

Oh how I hate silence. Once there is emptiness in my life, I rush in with goals and plans. For years I believed that to be virtue. I've come to see it as refusal to listen. It is no different than rushing to fill every lull in the conversation with talk, leaving those I'm with no room to speak.

It has been six weeks since my father's funeral, and there have been days well occupied with business associated with the aftermath. There are many more, however that are wide open, many more such days than at any time in my adult life. They are frightening. My first instinct was to begin to scan the want ads and to engage family in discussion about whether or not we ought to move near the grandbaby. Only belatedly did it occur to me how horrid for my daughter and son-in-law it would be if we did indeed make that child the center of our days (he is already the center of our heart).

After thrashing around I concluded that the year off I chose began January 1, 2006 not June 1, 2005. Only with some time and space can I begin to understand what is going to be my "third act." For now, I have an opportunity to finally learn to listen. I am avoided complex goals--even extensive prayer goals--in favor of praying as much as possible always, and making much of that a prayer of silence into which God may speak.

In practical terms I reserve "planning" as much as possible to one day at a time. Every day I
> Begin with an offering prayer as I'm rising out of bed.
> Ask Greg what he needs for me to do that day, both in terms of what he wants me to do and in terms of his reliance on me for driving him places.
> Think out a general schedule that accomodates Greg's needs, plans dinner for the two of us, includes writing at least three new pages and either a walk or bike ride.
>Wrap prayer around it like a blanket.

Other than that, two key outside forces, Church and Family, impact my schedule and activities. In these things I believe the voice of God is present. It is undoubtedly elsewhere but I need to learn to listen very carefully.

If I let Him, He will teach me.