In the liturgical year, November is the month we remember our deceased loved ones in a special way. November 1 commemorates All Saints, while on November 2 we remember all the faithful departed–not just the canonized saints. It is fitting, then, that we reflect on the experience known as grief, that is, the emotional pain or suffering that can accompany a significant loss in our lives. Here are a few things I know about grief.
Grief cannot be measured. But we are forever trying to measure it. A friend was burying her 94-year-old father who had lived with her the last three years of his life. At the wake I overheard someone say to her, “But, Ruthie, you had him so long!”–implying that Ruth’s grief should be lessoned by that fact. Ruth responded with, “I know, I know. But that’s what makes this even harder. Every day he gave me another reason to love him!”
Who can compare one person’s grief to another’s? And yet we say things like, “But my husband was so young,” as if losing an elderly husband is easier. Or “But he was my only son,” as if losing one son when you have two is less painful. And we try to convince ourselves that our grief really isn’t that bad after all. We say foolish things like, “I know I’ll get over this.” Or “At least she’s not suffering anymore.” These are all attempts to reduce our pain, to diminish our suffering. But they seldom work for very long.
Grief is grief. It is not despair. It is not hunger. It is not paralysis. It is not fear. Yet it can sometimes feel like all of these things. But grief is unlike anything else in the world.
People grieve differently. Some weep profusely. Others barely. Some want to be alone. Others want to be with other people. Some become very angry. Others become calm and mild. Some throw themselves into their work. Others sit and stare out windows. Some hate God. Others become more religious.
Grief finds us–sometimes when we least expect it. A few months after my dad died, I was using the drive-thru in the bank one day. While I waited for my transaction to be finished, I listened to the classical station. That’s when I heard the opening strains of “Poet and Peasant” by Franze von Suppe. Suddenly my eyes filled with tears–and I didn’t know why. It took me several moments to realize what was happening. “Poet and Peasant” was one of my dad’s favorite classical pieces. He played it often as I was growing up. My heart was grieving his loss even before my brain figured out what was going on. We can be flooded with grief anytime, anywhere, anyhow. The book, A Grief Observed, is a poignant journal C. S. Lewis wrote after his wife’s death. In it he says that grief “is not local,” that is, it is not restricted to one place. He says of his wife’s death: “Her absence is like the sky, spread over everything.”
Grief changes us. After the death of her father, Ann Lamott wrote: “I don’t think you really ever get over the death of the few people who matter most to you. It’s too big. Oh, you do, the badly broken leg does heal, and you walk again, but always with a limp.”
Grief is the underside of love. Perhaps there’s no greater proof of love’s greatness than the pain we feel when the object of our love is taken from us. I appreciate what Winnie the Pooh said about grief and love: “How lucky I am to have something (or someone) that makes saying goodbye so hard.”
For reflection:
Was there anything in this reflection that resonated with your experience of grief?
Is there anything else you know about grief that you’d like to share with us?
Was there anything or anyone who helped you during your time of grief? How?
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PS: Let us continue to pray for God’s blessings on our upcoming national and local elections. This prayer is loosely adapted from a prayer posted by our congregation’s “Justice, Peace, and Integrity of Creation” office:
Wise and loving God, you desire only good for all peoples. May our upcoming elections help to promote the common good of all of us. Give us a renewed appreciation of truth, honesty, and kindness. Free us from fear, hatred, and violence. Help us to choose leaders who see a political office as a form of service to others. May those who seek public office be willing to work with one another to promote human dignity, to correct injustice, to reach out to those who are poor and in need, to care for your beautiful creation, and to work unceasingly for lasting world peace. Good and merciful God, may we never take our freedom to vote for granted. Guide our politics as you guide our lives with your wisdom and love. Amen.
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Our video is “Eye Has not Seen” by Marty Haugen. If earth is this beautiful, and love is this strong, then we can barely imagine what heaven must be like…
I invite you to share a comment below!
21 Responses
My deceased husband’s 75 birthday is tomorrow. His 1st since his death. This message offered me great comfort. He was very ill & I was reminded that my eyes have not seem what God had prepared for him. Thanks be to God🙏❤️
Beautiful prayer for our upcoming election. Thank you Sr. Melanie!
Love the comment by Ann Lamott: But always with a limp.
Thank you for your insightful and profound reflections on life. I look forward to your postings
Thank you Sister. Beautiful. Grief also comes when relationships end, or people move away, not just in death. My mom was my best friend and though she passed 16 years ago I still miss her everyday. Thank you for your reflection.
Sometimes we are made to feel guilty when we want to talk about the loss of our son. Because he suffered addiction we are told we are in a better place. Your article helped clarify the grieving process as natural and without feeling guilt. We feel his loss every day. And thank you for the beautiful election prayer. This has been a difficult political climate and we need prayer.
Dear Melanie, thank you for the beautiful reflection on grief. It’s a reminder of how each one’s grief is different. Also, thank you for the election prayer!❤️🙏🏻😊
I have always enjoyed singing this song as it has so much to dwell on that gives you a piece of mind. this is a beautifu time of the year for this. Thank You!!!
I lost my husband eight years ago, and 2 cousins (both sides of the family) last week. Grief is unique to everyone who experiences it, and the “limp” persists. I pray that my family also experiences peace at the losses.
I feel pain because of people I have lost, but I also feel the joy those people brought into my life. I would not want to lose that joy in order to be free of pain.
Dear Sister Melannie, We lost our son four years ago to leukemia. A dreadful and fierce beast. At the age of 44 he left behind twin daughters, 2 years old, and an 7 year old son. His wife is left to cope as a single mother bearing all that as well as the grief she does not have time to recognize in her own heart. My grief is still fresh and often overcomes me. I do experience the spirit of my son in many ways. I will often recognize something that happens or something someone says that I know is him reaching out to me. You just have to be open to receiving those signs. Grief is a difficult thing. I appreciate your thoughtful posting.
There is no recipe for grief, no timeline, no right or wrong way to grieve. It takes its own path .
Thank you for the prayer. I put a copy in our chapel for people to use as they are at adoration.
I lost my beloved spouse, Frances, of 72years 2weeks ago to the.day. Only recently she joyfully reflected (. even quoted) on Winnie the Poo. Ptovidence? Sure. How Lucky I am! Please pray for us.
Thank you, Sr. Melanie. Grief is very personal and I agree with the beautiful thoughts you sent us today. Losing my husband one of Dietrich Bonhoeffer’s quote on Grief put my heavy sadness into perspective perfectly. Have a blessed week and am praying for the upcoming election and holding on to those who realize the sanctity of all lives.
Several things came to mind from your blog today. Someone once said that the church celebrates the saints on the first, poor souls on the second, and everyone else on the third – all sorts. I have celebrated it in my heart since!
I resonate with C.S. Lewis’ image of his wife’s absence as being like the sky ‘spread over everything’. Someone recently said that the pain from my sister’s death and Tyler’s absence from my life should be getting better because it’s been three months. I “see” it everyday. Sometimes it’s dark and ominous like storm clouds and at other times it like a clear blue sky that spreads endlessly. The sky (my grief) will always be there until I’m called to my eternal home. It won’t affect my life as deeply as it does now but it will always be a part of who I am because they both have loved me and been loved by me.
Thank you and the community for your election pray. I need to remember that even though I don’t know what tomorrow brings, I know who holds all my tomorrows in His hands.
God bless you, Sr. Melannie and all your readers!
Good afternoon, Melannie…
Good afternoon, all…
Thank you for this beautiful albeit poignant reflection on grief. When I was six years old, back in 1963, my mother died of lung cancer. She was 46 years old, and I was the youngest of five. As a six year old, I had no idea what “forever’ meant. Yes, I knew my mother had died, but surely not forever. It wasn’t until I was about eight or nine, and my third grade class was about to go on a field trip, that it finally registered that Ma was not coming back. All the boys had brown paper bags with sandwiches made by their mothers. They kept asking each other, “What’ja mother make you?” Then one turned to me with the same question. That’s when I knew, and that’s when my grieving began — crying jags, acting out in school, fist fights. It wasn’t pretty. Over the years, of course, my grief evolved into something more manageable, but even now, sixty-one years later, I wonder what could have been.
Beautiful and poignant reflection on grief, thank you Melannie. Yes there is no time table for grief over any kind of loss. But the grace of God does see us through it. My parents have been dead for almost 30 years and I miss them every day. But I take heart in the Lord’s promise that we will be reunited with passed loved ones in eternity.
Thank you too for sharing the prayer for the coming election.
Everyone experiences grief in different ways and I’m glad you pointed that out, Sr. Melannie. My Mom passed 20 years ago and my life is divided into two times – before Mom’s death and after Mom’s death. I have been lucky and still have my husband of 51 years, 4 children and all their spouses and my grandchildren. I cannot imagine what the loss of any of them would do to me. I love the quote about the “limp”. So true. We do go on living/loving/laughing but always wishing we could share those emotions with the one who resides with our Heavenly Father vs. physically, on our earth. Love your posts. So real.
What was very touching for me is “Grief is the underside of love” working with grievers at times I would tell them “you grief as much as you love”. I also love another quote from -Winnie The Pooh
“If there ever comes a day when we can’t be together, keep me in your heart, I’ll stay there forever.” Thank you Sr. Melannie
When my Mom was dying, we had just moved back to town and in with my parents. I knew I would soon be needing a dress for her funeral. My Dad said he would take care of my Mom while I ran to the mall. With tears streaming, I found a suitable dress. I stood at the counter waiting to pay. The beautiful sales clerk took one look at me and came around the counter to hug me. When she found out why I was crying, buying a funeral dress for my mother who had not yet died, she took my face in her hands and said, “Oh baby! Don’t you know, the earth cries no tears that heaven can’t heal!” That was almost 25 years ago and I have thought of her profound words not just in grief, but in so many situations through the years. If she only knew the impact her words had on my life! I will never forget her exuberant faith and kindness.