I had someone tell me yesterday that in the first couple of
years after Mandy died, I was a “horrible mess”. To be perfectly honest, this
hurt my feelings terribly. However, as I have mulled this statement over, I’ve
come to some conclusions I’d like to share and to have your thoughts on, too.
First, let me say that this came from someone who I consider
a dear, precious friend, a person who has never been anything other than
supportive of me, David and Matthew. We had not been friends for very long
before Mandy died, so she was thrown into the fire, so to speak, before she
really had a chance to fully know the “before Mandy died” Betsy. She is a bit
older than me, and her friendship has been constant and unwavering for the last
11 or so years. She is one of the finest, wisest Christian women I’ve ever met.
I value her opinion, which is why her words initially hurt so much.
As I’ve pondered the idea that I was (and some days still
am) a “horrible mess”, it’s made me look at our society’s response to grief
with fresh eyes. Quite frankly, we seem incapable, both individually and
collectively, to effectively minister to those who grieve. We are completely unable (or perhaps
unwilling) to accept that grief, even though it evolves and softens over time,
lasts for as long as we live. I just read a pastor’s blog in which he talks of people
he recently observed who were so impatient that they could not stop just long
enough for a funeral procession to pass, instead cutting into the line of cars
and honking, etc. I see this as a metaphor for the much larger issue of
expecting people’s grief to have a brief, set time frame, after which point, their
lives return to “normal”. For most of us, we attend the funeral, say a few
words of condolence to the remaining family, and get in our cars to go have
dinner. For the family and friends of the deceased, “normal” is completely
different than what is was just a short while ago. Normal looks, sounds and
will forever be nothing like it was before. Why is it that we have people
coming to us less than a year after the tragic loss of child telling us that we
need to “get over it” and that “people don't want to deal with you” if you
continue to grieve? Really? Are we truly so emotionally inept and shallow that
we cannot allow people who are supposed to be our friends the time and space
needed to at least get their feet back under them after a major loss? Being a
"horrible mess" is exactly what a person who has lost someone they
love deeply should be, and it is wrong to expect otherwise for a very long
time.
Grief is hard work,
and being a friend to someone who is grieving is extremely difficult and
emotionally draining.....it's not for the faint of heart. The griever’s behavior
is unpredictable at best and downright bizarre at its worst, sometimes swinging
wildly from moment to moment. However, if you were willing to do the hard work
of friendship before that person experienced loss, why wouldn't you be willing
to do the same when grief comes, as it inevitably will? Be willing to stand in
that gap and be the buffer between them and the world, the protector from those
who aren’t willing to understand, the advocate when they just can’t make
another decision. Be the person who is there to let them wallow in self-pity
for a bit, but also there to drag them out the bed and make them get dressed
and go out for a few hours, just so they don’t forget how it feels to live. Be
the person who patiently listens to the sometimes crazy rantings of a
grief-stricken person for hours on end. Be the person who doesn’t put a time
frame on their grief and understands that even though they are a “horrible
mess”, and are forever changed, they are still worthy of your friendship and
love. Reassure them that you will forever be a part of their “new normal” even
if that means your place in their lives has evolved into something new as
well.
That I was a horrible mess should have come as a surprise to
no one, yet it did to even the kindest and most compassionate of my friends.
This speaks volumes about how we, both personally and as a society, are so
poorly prepared to cope with those who grieve. I am thankful for my dear friend
and her perspective, and I want you to hear the rest of the story, the really
important, redeeming part of our conversation. She went on to say to me, “I had
experienced loss in my own life, of course, yet I had never been so close to
such unspeakable tragedy. Walking these last 10 years with you has taught me so
much......while I still cannot empathize as someone who has lived it, walking
with you has given me the insight to be more patient, sympathetic and
understanding of others who’ve lost a child in a way that I could never have
been otherwise. I’ve been grateful and honored to have shared this experience
with you. ” I was so humbled by her words, because I wouldn't have ever
considered the possibility that my grief could be a learning experience for
anyone except me.
If you live long enough, you will lose someone you love; we
all know that’s inevitable. Those who have not yet experienced great loss can
have no real concept of the sorrow, the pain, sometimes the tragedy of the
situation. Be the kind of friend now you want walking alongside you when that
day comes.
