navigating the sorrow of loss with purpose
While we have many pre-fabricated concepts of grief and sorrow, the truth is that we grieve anything we lose; and, nothing is as certain in this world as the inevitability of loss. Despite this, perhaps because of our natural fear of our finiteness or our unwillingness to acknowledge our limited control, grief is quite possibly our most avoided discussion. Most of us have heard of the stages of grief (far better named: experiences of grief): denial, bargaining, depression, anger, and acceptance. This knowledge, however, does not bring comfort or direction; it simply validates the confusing ebbs and flows of our sorrow. Make no mistake, validation is essential in the struggle. But, it is not enough to help us navigate our experiences. What is needed, then, is the hope of being able to grieve with intentionality, purpose, and direction. This lack of intentionality is perhaps one of the influencing factors for the experience of denial. While we cannot, in a moment’s notice, wrap our consciousness around the frailties of life, we also actively run toward passivity; we seek distractions, avoid discussions, dodge others. We deny. We do not know where we should go and, therefore, make every effort to remain.
Again, we grieve anything we lose. And, with this basic perspective of grief, the encouragement is to avoid comparing one’s grief to another. While, of course, it can be objectively said that losing a loved one is a greater loss than losing a coveted job opportunity, the lesser loss may still register as experienced grief which, if unanswered, may fester into neuroticism.
Two things need to be understood. First, grief is not neurotic; it is a healthy, natural response to loss. This means it is good to grieve. The danger, rather, is when it remains unrequited. Second, whether we like it or not, ready or not, grief will be answered to (eventually). It will come. Inhibited grief will seep into our emotional, mental, physical, spiritual, and relational wellbeing.
I picked up a tool nearly a decade ago that has stuck with me. I attended a training led by a local grief therapist and was introduced to her use of “The Four Gifts.” Unfortunately, I did not write down her information and have forgotten her name. I have over the years attempted to find her for the purpose of giving the praise and credit she so rightly deserves. Regardless, the tool has proven over the years to be extremely effective. The activity is primarily based on the concept of interactive journaling through which one can grieve at whatever pace and experience grief so requires. The goal is to express anything and everything (no rules or formatting requirements because the phenomenological experience of sorrow refuses to be contained by arbitrary guidelines) as it applies to the identified “gift.” For a powerful example of honest grief, read Lament for a Son by Nicholas Wolterstorff. In each stage of the grief exercise: say it all, take your time, then leave extra pages—most find out later that there was more that needed to be said. Through your writing, allow yourself the opportunity to experience—including, the experience of confusion. The direction offered by the gifts allows for the resolution of various unfinished business including the shame of regret, the in-expression of gratitude and love, as well as the opportunity to seek closure. The four gifts of this exercise are: (1) I’m Sorry, (2) Thank You, (3) I Love you, and (4) Goodbye.
The goal through all of this is to experience the confusion, pain, sorrow, disappointment, anger, and shame without becoming directionless and tormented. Also, the goal is not to eliminate grief, pain, or heartache because this would invalidate the significance of the loss and what was lost. What was lost deserves to be grieved. The goal, then, is, through it all, to experience peace.
While it may feel far from possible, there is an opportunity for peace. And, it must be stated that this peace is found in presence of Christ. It also must be said, through it all, to remain present with the God of Sorrows, the Suffering Servant, the God who joins us in grief because He grieves. He’s there. He remains pleasant especially when it gets uncomfortable. In C.S. Lewis’s novel, The Magician’s Nephew, there is a beautiful scene in which the main character of the story finally unleashes his grief upon the Christ-figure only to notice tears pouring down His face suggesting that perhaps His grief was even greater. The response was that they both knew grief, and knew it well; therefore, be good to each other. He won’t leave you.