“It’s so much darker when a light goes out than it would have been if it had never shone.”
—John Steinbeck
In the past few months, I’ve received a plethora of encouraging text messages, phone calls, emails, and letters. I was numb in the weeks after my dad passed away. It was an accident, and I barely had time to process it all. Of course, “How are you?” was the bane of my existence, and sometimes still is. There are so many of these phrases that are stored in my all-too-familiar memory bank. Although the vast majority of people who used these phrases had no ill-intent, and a lot of the statements/questions have merit and truth to them. Some of them should be avoided altogether. Straight from someone who is grieving in her own way, here are 10 things grieving people are tired of hearing.
1. “Grief is grief.”
While it’s true that many people experience grief at various points in their lives, not all grief is the same. Losing a child is different than losing a parent, a brother or a friend. Even if someone has lost a father, their grief is not the same as mine. I have friends that lost their dad at six and many who didn’t lose them until they were in their fifties. It just isn’t the same.
2. “There are 5 Stages to your grieving process.”
The stages of grief are complete nonsense to me. As much as I’d love to be able to know when I’m done grieving, it’s not possible to smack a label on what I’m feeling. I’ve jumped, skipped and been stuck in different stages. The day my dad passed away, I was in the acceptance stage; weeks later, I’d regressed to denial; the next day, I was depressed. Some days were a strange mixture of grief emotion, joy, faith and confusion. Grief doesn’t make sense, no matter how much we’d like for it to be measurable or coherent.
3. “Time heals all wounds.”
You can’t put a timeline on my pain. For me, I don’t think my pain will ever lessen. I’ll always miss him and love him. As C.S. Lewis says, losing a loved one is like learning to live with an amputation; the gaping wound may scar over, but it won’t ever be the same. Accepting that is part of healing for me. I think the true meaning of this phrase is this: time passes and you learn how to cope with the pain, you build a tolerance for it.
4. “I know how you feel.”
Unless you’ve lost your dad, you probably don’t. Death is something that none of us can avoid. It’s a comfort to know that my dad is with Jesus, but it doesn’t change the fact that the circumstances of his death were tragic. I didn’t lose him after I got married, or had kids, or after he saw them graduate from high school…I lost him before I celebrated by 21st birthday. By that same token, a family friend passed away, leaving behind small children, far younger than I. I have no concept of how they must feel.
5. “God won’t give you more than you can handle.”
Trust me, God gave me way more than I was capable of handling, but graciously extended strength to endure the eight-day hospital visit that could only effectively be described as a living hell. There were times I thought I was losing my mind. Two days before we took my dad off the ventilator, he appeared to open his eyes, trying to breathe or communicate. I screamed for help; I almost didn’t make it through that moment. The night I spent with him in the hospital, with the monitors buzzing and beeping and seeing him lay there, I felt like my heart was being ripped from my chest. When I held his hand, praying for a miracle, when I realized that God wasn’t going to give him back, I thought that it would kill me to let him go. God’s grace was and is and will continue to be sufficient.
6. “You need to talk to someone about this.”
I don’t always feel like talking about it, but when I do, I find someone. Sometimes sitting in silence is the best thing for me to do. Sometimes I shock people when I mention his name or say, “My dad used to…” In those moments, I don’t mind talking about him at all. Sometimes I need people to listen.
7. “Your dad wouldn’t want you to be sad.”
I disagree. I think my dad would understand how sad I am; he would understand how much I miss him. Being with God in glory, I don’t think my dad is conscious of the fact that he left us. There’s no weeping or sorrow in heaven. I think he’s worshiping the Lord. But had the roles been reversed, had I been the one to be taken home, I think my dad would be intensely grieved. It’s ok for me to be sad; that, too, is something I’ve had to realize. I cry when I need to cry. I laugh when I need to laugh. Just let it be.
8. “Just cherish all the wonderful memories.”
As much as I love looking through pictures, I constantly grieve the memories I won't have. My dad will never dance with me at my wedding, walk me down the aisle, hold his grandchild, see me graduate college, hear my new CD. Sometimes lost experiences add to the already existing sadness.
9. “He isn’t suffering anymore.”
This is something I know. It’s not something I need to consciously need to be reminded of. Remembering he’s not, just reminds me that he was trapped in his own body, unable to move or speak or remember or breathe on his own. Selfishly, we could have kept his body alive. But we knew what he wanted. I’m glad he will never know pain or heartache again.
10. “Just call me if you need anything.”
I speak for myself when I say that, if I need anything, I probably won’t call you. Sometimes I don’t even know what I need. Most grieving people don’t like asking, especially if they didn’t ask before they experienced a loss. A text message, a card, an email to let me know you’re thinking about and praying for me can really go a long way. Sometimes, random, small gestures can mean the world to someone who is grieving. It let's us know that we haven’t been forgotten.
“Tis better to have loved and lost than never to have loved at all.” —Lord Alfred Tennyson
Don’t misunderstand me. This is not supposed to be a depressing list. To the outside world, I’m sure it seems rather morbid. For me, it’s how I’ve learned to cope with loss. I live in the hope that there will be a day when God will wipe ever tear from our eyes. Until that day, I can choose to be joyful. I’m struck down, but not destroyed. When I have been through the fire, I will come forth as gold.
