From Grieving to Thriving

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I remember the first time I saw a dead person. I awakened to answer the phone and heard the voice of an older woman, a member of my small church in rural Oklahoma. “Pastor! He’s dead! John’s dead. Come help me!” I hurried through the dark streets to her house. The man lay in the bed, pale, cold, and still. She explained he had gone to bed not feeling well and when she checked sometime later, he didn’t respond. Dead, the spirit of his life departed, he now lay quiet as in sleep, but silent. As we waited for the police and mortuary workers to arrive, I formed a circle of prayer with the stunned widow and the deceased. One of my hands touched warm, moist flesh, while the other hand touched cold and immobile skin. My prayer thanked God for his life and the promise of eternal life. An hour later the body left the house. His widow stood shocked and quiet. What was ahead for her?

What is grief? We use the word “grief” to name the complex of emotions we feel when a loss occurs. In the immediate days after loss physical sensations sweep across our body provoking muscle weakness, shortness of breath, tightening in the chest and hollowness in the stomach. Then we think differently, maybe not believing it is real, or being so confused we can’t remember things. We experience a mix of emotions unique to our own personality that may bring anger, guilt, loneliness, sadness, or numbness. Our behaviors change as we have no appetite, withdraw from others, or lash out with rage.[1]

It may be a comfort to know that Jesus experienced the darkness of grief. The Scriptures describe how Jesus was “troubled” standing at the grave of his friend, Lazarus. The adjective conveys a physical shuddering of anger, anguish, and sorrow as Jesus sobbed in grief with his friends. As I left the new widow that night long ago, all of this and more was settling on her mind. And most of us have felt this way, too. The shadow of loss and grief comes to every human heart.

Does what you believe about the afterlife affect how you grieve? Of course it does. Psychology is unanimous in teaching that our thought patterns about any issue shape the way we feel and behave.

T he Apostle Paul wrote, “we do not want you to be uninformed about those who sleep in death, so that you do not grieve like the rest of mankind, who have no hope. For we believe that Jesus died and rose again, and so we believe that God will bring with Jesus those who have fallen asleep in him” (1 Thessalonians 4:13-14). The Apostle offered comfort by asserting these believers had experienced a new way of living in Jesus, therefore they could expect with certainty God would provide new life after death.

I believe we should be honest, though, that such peace after the death of a loved one does not come easily. After the acute phase of grief that I described earlier comes the long process of adjusting to life in the absence of that beloved person. This is the reality of the empty boots at a military funeral or the empty chair at the Thanksgiving table. The strong arms or the bright smile of the friend is gone. Our memories are the only place we can find to share what once was a vital presence.

I don’t believe the word “closure” should ever be used to describe the goal of our grief. That implies our feelings are finished, that we’ve put them in the past. How ridiculous! We don’t close our memories in some storage unit and forget the one we miss. Forget about “closure” and replace it with the truth of adjusting. Over time, our grief experience can move towards adjustment to a new normal. We process the pain by reflecting, talking, praying, and letting go of the old shape of life. We begin to tell a new story about our identity and relationship in the absence of our loved one. We discover and hold to the good memories, the legacy, and the honor granted in the life we shared. Across many days and nights, the Spirit of God does a work of mercy which brings comfort and hope.

This adjustment process is supported by research. Dr. Bonanno in his book, The End of Trauma, reports that most people do adjust after some time has passed. There is a period of moderate to severe disruption with the mix of feelings we know so well. In this process we should be flexible in our mindset with confidence in our ability to cope and willingness to meet the challenges we face.  The ways to cope will vary with each personality and that’s okay. We do get better as the night passes and new days dawn.[2]

The work of David Kessler provides guidance for our work of grieving.[3] Kessler suggests we are working on two fundamental questions. One is “Who am I without him?” The second is “What is my new relationship with him?”

The first question is focused on the absence of our loved one. “Who am I financially… socially… sexually… or spiritually?” Part of our identity was bound up with the deceased. Now that context is gone. I was a husband but now I am a widower. Or, I had a secure income but now there is no money coming in. In the work of grief we must come up with the answers to our new identity, status, context, and future.

I counseled a middle-aged widow who faced these questions after her husband’s sudden death. He had done all the financial work for the couple. She was an educational professional and had steady income but struggled for months with understanding what to do with the bills, the investments, and the property. She felt like she was thrown into a swirling sea of confusion with her hands tied by grief.

T he second question is “What is my new relationship to my loved one?” This is a question of meaning. The bereaved is forced to adjust to the reality of a different connection, one of memories, unfilled plans, or holidays without the hugs that meant so much. The loved one is absent from active interaction but so very present as a dynamic emotional presence.

The widow I mentioned a moment ago was faced with a 2,000 square foot garage her husband had filled with his hobbies, tools, and equipment for some projects that would never be done. Weeks after his death she opened the door for the first time and collapsed in tears with the memories and overwhelming work ahead. She was angry at having so much to do and divided on what he would want. Her relationship to him was overcome with the relationship to these things of his.

What are ways to forge a new relationship to the absence and yet the presence of the one we’ve lost?

We take a vital step when we turn from isolation and lean on the people we trust. It’s normal to feel lonely, isolated, and unsure how to relate to others when we are grieving. We should not stay in this private world, however. A healthy life has rich social connections. Pushing past the isolation to reengage with our network of family and friends creates positive neurochemicals that make us feel good again. Choose to call a friend for a dinner meeting or drive to the ball game where you both used to attend

A second action comes when we reshape new ways of relating to the one who is no longer with us. What use the memories we have and the possessions of the loved one to create new patterns of life going forward. Perhaps we create a picture book of special moments we shared. Or we place some items our loved one treasured in a curio cabinet. We might plan a special dinner with family on the birthday of the one who is gone from the table but alive in our emotional life everyday. These actions embrace the reality of a new normal to build a different kind of relationship that lasts for years to come.

The widow with the huge pain and large workshop worked diligently on her broken heart. She found support in wise friends about money management. She enlisted the adult children to work with her in the barn, offering items to non-profits, keeping some sentimental items, and bonding with them in this sacred task of honoring their father. The pain diminished as the seasons rolled on.

Dr. Kessler offers a thought I’d like to leave with you. He taught, “We heal from grief when we remember the loved one with more love than pain. We build love around the pain and make it a part of the love.”

May your grief be building a thriving new life with deeper love than ever before.

[1] C. Carr, C. Nabe, and D. Cobb. Death and Dying, Like and Living. Wadsworth Thomson Learning, 2000. P 214

[2] George Bonanno, The End of Trauma: How the New Science of Resilience Is Changing How We Think About PTSD

Basic Books, 2021

[3] “Finding Meaning: The Sixth Stage of Grief” Seminar. David Kessler. Personal Notes by author