On Grief and Loss

Dealing with grief and loss can be a tough subject; when we talk about grieving the death of someone, we are entertaining two realities.  We have to deal with the idea that our loved one is no longer suffering, or found a peaceful way to go, but we are also looking at how our lives and roles will change now that she is gone.  I have met a lot of people that have advice on the topic, but no one has really clear answers.

Last night my maternal grandmother died.  She was only forty years older than me, and even though she was sick for some time, the shock still hit me.  Needless to say, I had a lot of strange dreams and a fairly sleepless night.  This morning I woke up and went to the doctor. I needed to get my mind off what happened, and figure out what I needed to do.  When bad things happen, I like to keep busy. I'm sure it doesn't do anything else than distract me, but my nervous energy can exhaust others.

When I came home, I asked my mother if I could do something. She had pulled out a picture of my grandparents to take with her on the trip, and I remarked that I liked the old black and white photos from my grandparents' wedding better. My mother agreed, but there was a problem: the wedding photos were on the wall at the cabin (2.5 hours away)...

Sounds like a distraction for me! I put Alex in the car and told him we were going on an adventure!  We headed off down the road, and it was a peaceful drive.  We talked about grandma, and about death.  He asked a lot of questions, and I gave fairly truthful answers.  We talked about memories of me growing up with her, and things I learned from having her around.  The conversation proved to be very therapeutic for me- I needed reminders of the good times.

After a while, he fell asleep.  I started thinking about my life, and about the fact that her illness consumed most of my memories.  She had good times, but she endured a lot of rain as well.  I guess I just knew that no matter how hard it is to say goodbye, knowing there is no more rain in heaven seems like a good ending.

When I drove up to the mountain, Alex was still asleep.  I had something to do before retrieving the photos...

I pulled up to the boat dock and got out of the car. I looked in the backseat, and Alex had his head resting on the door (he was OUT!).  I took my phone with me into the frigid air, and walked up to the water.  No one was there, because it was WINTER, and I knew I'd have some peace. I cued up "Good Riddance (Time of Your Life)" on the iPhone, and stared out at the water.  It was so peaceful and serene, as I listened to the lyrics:

"So take the photographs and still frames in your mind,

Hang it on a shelf in good health and good time.

Tattoos of memories and dead skin on trial,

For what it's worth, it was worth all the while.

It's something unpredictable, but in the end it's right.

I hope you had the time of your life."

I picked up a stone and attempted to skip it out into the water, but it made a giant PLOP instead. I chuckled out loud, because even I could make a peaceful moment seem awkward.  I think Grandma might have appreciated the humor more than the overall gesture.

For as much rain that happened, there were good times too. I remember she taught me how to cook, and enlisted me to help make French toast every time I came to her house. That was a memory I was very conscious of when I taught Carly how to crack an egg for the first time.

And I remember reading a Mother Goose Rhymes book with her at her house. A few years ago, I stumbled across an old copy in a used bookstore in Hendersonville, TN, and squealed with delight.  This is something I could pass on to the next generation.

I was talking with someone on the phone today, and he mentioned traditions, and how we lose them with each generation.  He was right; that is probably the saddest part of losing someone.  Sometimes the legacy isn't carried on, but sometimes there is room for new traditions.  Sometimes we teach our children French toast recipes and nursery rhymes, and sometimes we invent new holiday traditions.  These moments draw on the good memories and help us feel close to our family line, and to the ones we've lost.

"So make the best of this test, and don't ask why.

It's not a question, but a lesson learned in time."

Yes, I am moving backwards in the song, but it is for a reason. Part of my evolution as a human being and as a whole person involved my grandmother. I really don't need to get into details, but I can say that I started out with so many more questions than answers.  While we don't want to lose people, perhaps it happened at the right time.  I'm finally at the point where I have learned the lessons, and where I am at peace.  I feel that is the same with a lot of family members, and maybe this is the way it needed to happen.  And I will be forever grateful that my mother shared last night (hours before her mother's passing) that she had a wonderful conversation with her mother that day.  Moments of closure are worth so much, and I know that this will provide my mother a lot of comfort in the days ahead.

Please say a special prayer for our family tonight.  It's always hard to simultaneously entertain those two realities of the relief of suffering, and missing a family member.  I brought the photos home to hand to my parents, and was thanked for my efforts.  I was thankful for the opportunity to help out, but I would say the closure I received today was most valuable of all.