A Grief Transformed*

In the beginning, the heaviness of sadness pulls me down.  My heart is broken, and I am physically exhausted from the tears that are continually on my face.  I cannot see light and there seems to be no life left in me.  My world is dark.  My natural impulse is to avoid the darkness, to run from it, but with courage that I cannot comprehend, I open my eyes in this darkness.  I cannot make out anything but shadows.  There is no form and no substance.  There is a great emptiness.  This place of grief is formless and void of anything except itself and darkness fills the depths of my sorrow.  But as I sit in this place, there is breath.  Yes, my own breath as I continue to breathe, though some days I despair even of this, but in this darkness, I also sense Ruach, the breath of God that sweeps across my face and there is, in that moment, a glimmer of light.  As I feel God’s breath in this place, I begin to see that there is light and there is darkness and they exist, each in their own time; one day at a time. As I continue to sit with the periods of light and darkness, life begins to transform around me; very slowly at first.  I begin to find a firm footing on which to stand.  In the moments of light standing on this new ground, I begin to see the shoots of new life straining through the earth.  The hope of a new beginning.  Not a beginning that comes despite the sadness and the darkness, but because of it.  In this moment I begin to hope in a future that is shaped by the comforting and creative breath of God that brings life where there was not life.   That brings warmth where it was cold.  That sheds light on a path that I could not see.  I look around and realize that God has not rescued me from the darkness, but brought me through it to a of place enlightenment, wisdom, and even joy. 

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* This writing was inspired by a paragraph in the paper, “Recovering Grief in the age of Grief Recovery”. In that paper, my friend, BruceRogers-Vaughn, describes his own journey of grief over the loss of his son.  In one paragraph he wrote:

How might joy emerge from such an experience? I do not recall when I first noticed this, but as I mustered the courage to suffer my own grief something very subtle began to happen. I discovered in the chaos, at the edge of the abyss, an unnamable creative energy. It began to dawn upon me that Genesis 1 is not a commentary about some primeval era: "In the beginning God created the heavens and the earth. The earth was without form and void, and darkness was upon the face of the deep." This is where anything that deserves the name life must begin—in the void, in the darkness of chaos. It is into this darkness that we descend whenever we mourn. And if we keep our eyes open in this darkness, we find there what the text of Genesis 1 asserts: That the breath of life, the Spirit of the Creator, is moving around in there: "and the Spirit of God was moving over the face of the waters."   

Grieving is Part of a Joyful Holiday

In his paper, “Recovering Grief in the age of GriefRecovery”, my friend, Bruce Rogers-Vaughn, describes a “Dialectic of Grief”.  He says that grief is indistinguishable from love.  The process of grief, therefore, is the act of learning to love in the condition of absence.  So, when we have moments (memories, events, experiences) that connect us to the person that is lost, we feel simultaneously connected to them and aware of their absence at the same time.  I believe this idea can be extended beyond physical loss to more intangible losses (like the loss of hopes, dreams, and ideallic expectations.)  Perhaps this is why the holidays with their joy and gatherings of friends and family can be difficult for so many people.  In the moment that we are experiencing the presence of those close to us and the joy of the season, we are simultaneously reminded of those who are no longer with us.  For some, it is a painful reminder of those who have left voluntarily.  For some it is a reminder that they have been hurt deeply by a family member who they may or may not have to spend time with during the holidays.  For others, the joy of the holidays rings empty because depression or other emotional struggle has robbed them of the ability to experience it. 

Dr. Rogers-Vaughn says that grief is not something to recover from, but something we simply need to recover.  Too often our thoughts about grief have to do with ways to diminish it or avoid it.  Overt or subtle attempts to bypass the grief process or to avoid grief altogether, can lead us to avoid meaningful attachments in a misdirected attempt to avoid loss.  Attempts to bypass grief become twisted into psychopathology, addiction, and even violence.  The only way to get through grief is to go through grief.  What lies on the other side is not the absence of grief, but the acceptance of it.  A grief embraced can open us to a new way of seeing the world, becomes a foundation on which we construct hope, and transforms our love and faith.  Being able to accept grief as part of life is a fundamental part of being able to experience true joy. 

So, this holiday season, rather than seeking to avoid grief by changing your plans or anesthetizing your pain.  Allow yourself to grieve what losses you may have.  Create ways of remembering the person that is no longer with you. (For a good article on creating personal grieving rituals, click here.) Make time to feel your feelings and share them with trusted others.  It may be helpful to write those feelings and reflections in a journal.  Many congregations offer services of hope and remembrance or so called, “Blue Christmas” services.  These services can be a good opportunity for remembering and connection with our grief.  Others may find it helpful to talk with a professional therapist about their grief.  I pray that in this season, you will find the true joy of grief embraced.