Befriending My Grief

Grief comes, a giantess, with strength to bind;

She grips our hand and glares into our eyes;

If we but kiss her mouth, she daily dies,

Fades into air, and leaves a flower behind.

William Wilsey Martin, "Grief"

Thinking back on my early weeks, I marvel at how far I have walked (and sometimes crawled) on this journey.  I remember very distinctly thinking in that first week that I would not make the same mistake I made when my father died.  I was resolved not to push my grief aside and “move on” with life.  I had not yet fully appreciated the decision I had made for Bill, my sons and I.  It had no “title” nor was it concrete in my heart.  I just knew I would not walk through the same dark corridor.  Bill loved the sun and I wanted to grieve for him there.

A little over a week after Bill died (or maybe it was a couple of weeks – time takes on a new meaning when you are grieving), I received a visit from two wonderful people.  I was just beginning to look at myself without Bill because the numbness was no longer as effective at protecting me. 

They were familiar with the pain of losing someone so dear, they had lost their son.  They sat quietly for quite a few moments and simply looked at me in all my grieving glory, and I could read in their eyes that my pain was not unfamiliar to them.  They sat closely next to each other and I kept thinking that I did not want them to hurt for me, that they had their own pain and I did not want to add to it, but I was thirsty.  I needed to make sense of things and the understanding I saw in their eyes was refreshing.  Up until then, I had not sensed that deep perception from another.  So I gulped and filled my reserve, hanging on every word they had to offer, every piece of insight they could and did share and became drunk with their kindness and wisdom.

They had given me the “title” I had been seeking and had made supposition concrete in my heart. 

They said:

·         Take your time.

·         Allow your grief to surface and live through what it offers.

·         You will one day be comfortable in your grief.

·         Walk with your grief.

·         Try to remember just one moment in the day that was okay!

I drank and I drank and I drank ~ up until then, I had heard all of the well-intended statements and always felt alone, frustrated.  I had now found a safe place; that safe place was inside me where I had given myself permission to befriend my grief. 

How much easier it became for me to set the parameters of my new world.  I had given myself permission to allow adequate time to grieve, not adhering to anyone’s grief timetable.  After all, it was my relationship with Bill that would set this timetable.  I was no longer ashamed about feeling sad, angry, and confused or any other feeling for any length of time.

Reflecting back, I can see that I didn’t acknowledge it then, but I knew deep down that I would be okay.