Free to Grieve

There seems to be a lot of grief around me in the last few weeks. The letter below I just sent out to someone who recently lost a family member. It is not to a close friend, just a recent acquaintance really – someone I prayed with.  Someone who does not yet know all the places grief can take you or leave you.

Recently, I ran across blogger Teryn O’Brien. I like her writing. She has devoted the month of November to the topic of grief. I like her post “5 Ways to Minister to Someone Who Is Grieving.”

November 5, 2013

K,

Grief is a strange thing.  It never happens quite the way we expect it to and it works differently for everyone.  It’s okay if your grief isn’t “normal”.  It’s yours and you are entitled to it.

I read once that the normal period of grief is 18 months to 7 years depending on the nature of the relationship.  The problem is most folks want you to “get over it” in 6 months or less.  You don’t have to “get over it,” you just have to go through it.  And it’s sneaky.  You never know where, how or when it is going to descend on you.  That’s okay.  It won’t always be that way.

I lost my dad a little over 2 years ago and it taught me so much about grief that none of my previous experience or training even touched on.  Not that I have “completed” the process, but I have grown to understand a lot about myself and my relationships.  It’s amazing what will spark a memory or bring on The Sadness.

Fortunately, we do not mourn as those who have no hope.  Though we may walk through the Valley of the Shadow of Death, we don’t walk alone.

I wrote a few things over the last couple of years beginning the day my dad died.  Mostly it was for myself and to some degree my siblings.  You can find it at jimtheyouthguy.com and click on the Grief link.  Sometimes it helps to see and hear that someone else has felt the same way.  When you said, “It sucks,” it reminded me of the letter I wrote to my siblings on the first Father’s Day without dad.

Yes , it sucks.  And it sucks in ways you don’t even understand yet.  It’s okay.  It won’t always be that way.

May our Father supply all Grace and Peace to you and your family at this time of need.

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What My Dad Taught Me about My Dad in Heaven

Wednesday, April 4, 2012

What my dad taught me about my Dad in Heaven

This is a replay from our first trip to Guatemala.  You can read more here.

Friday, July 16, 2010

Up a little early this morning. About to go see if there is some coffee ready. Ian asked yesterday, at the end of the devotions he led in the morning, “How do you see God’s love for you?” I don’t think any of us answered that question. We talked about how we were moved by what we saw and experienced. Several people mentioned being grateful for our ‘stuff’ when we see how others live. We were even awed at being able to serve as Jesus’ hands and feet to touch these lives for this small place in time. But, I don’t recall anyone saying how they saw God’s love demonstrated for them personally.
For me, I think it is in be allowed to work with God. To be there when he does his ‘thing’. To even contribute some small part to his work. To be a part of God’s working, God’s ‘interfering’ in the lives of men, women and children.
My dad did that for me. He let me work with him even when it made things take twice as long to get them done. Even when it meant he would have to go back and redo everything I had done.
God’s an awesome dad. He lets me learn by watching him work. He lets me learn by trying things out. He lets me learn by messing things up. And he’s always there with the ‘great job’ and ‘I love you’ even when I get it wrong.
How does he show you love?

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Dad

Saturday, March 31, 2012

Dad

With mom it was different. The Sadness showed up again when Jacob was born, when Whitney graduated, when I was ordained, etc. – or when I changed some thing that was “hers”. When I removed the hibiscus bushes in the front yard, the empty place where they had been provoked The Sadness every time I looked in that corner of the yard. There is still a hook in my ceiling where her oxygen tubing used to run. It looks silly, but it is comfortable.

With dad, it’s different. He was my greatest fan, my greatest cheerleader, my greatest counselor. He was the first one I went to when I was uncertain. He was the first to hear of my latest “heresy” whether it was a new understanding of God, scripture, evangelism or how you “do” church. He knew all my insecurity when I launched into unknown waters. He was the candle in the window in the darkest night that reminded me where I had come from so I knew why I was going.
The only question a man ever has to answer is, “Am I enough … ?”. Dad was my constant example/mentor on being enough.

With mom, The Sadness was a momentary shadow that clouded my day.

For dad, The Sadness is an ever present ache with a sharp pain in every triumph, every change, every new idea, every insecurity, every failure, every question, every new revelation of God, every time I reach to pick up the phone to ask/tell dad about …
It’s like nothing is ever quite complete since I haven’t told dad about it yet.

: (

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Father’s Day Sucks

(letter to my siblings on the first Father’s Day without dad)

Father’s Day is forever different for us starting this year.

No card to write.  No phone call.  No tie/coffee cup/tee shirt/baseball cap to buy.

If only there were no regrets …

I wish dad were here to see _______________________.

I’d like to tell dad _______________________________.

I wish I had ____________________ with him more.

I don’t know how many times I’ve thought, “I need to ask dad _______________.”  It was such a habit to talk to him about so many things.  It is amazing how an adult can be so dependent on a parent and never even realize it.

Sigh …

To say, “It sucks!” is somewhat of an understatement, but good Christians aren’t supposed to use the more “expressive” words (I’m not even sure if a Baptist pastor is allowed to say, “It sucks!”).  After all, we know he is in “a better place”.  “We don’t mourn today as those who have no hope.”  “We will see him again “on the other side” in the sweet by and by.”  “He’s better off now.”  And so on …

I miss him.

And, it sucks.

Yes, healing is coming, but it only serves to illustrate how pervasive the loss is.  Why does everything have to take twice as long and be three times harder than we expect.

That sucks too!

If there is any solace in knowing you are not alone, then the past few months have provided me with quite a bit of company to love in our mutual misery.  I’m not sure how it helps really.  Except is does give me a couple of people to send this letter to.  Which in turn gives me the impetus to write it.  And I suppose that is another step in healing as I process, consider, wax nostalgic, ruminate, etc …

At least we had a dad that filled such a large part of our lives.  It was an incredible gift.  We were very fortunate that he was so much – so connected, so involved, so proud, so available …

Of course, that left a pretty big hole …

I know it won’t always be this way.  I know it gets better.  I know we have to get through all the “firsts” – Father’s Day, birthdays, Holidays, events and occasions…  And they never end.  There is always one more special moment we will wish we could share with dad, one more question we wish we could ask, one more doubt we wish we could share …

It’s a good thing that we have a Father in Heaven, but boy He better step up to the plate big time!  And He does.  I know in the end we’ll all be fine.  We’ll make it through with the loving support of so many friends and family members.  Our Father in Heaven has never left us and His love endures forever.

I get all that.

It’s just that this is harder than I thought.

It’s taking too long.

And it sucks.

Just sayin’

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