Last Christmas, our daughter gave Mindi and I a free night of babysitting that we used to catch a concert at one of our favorite venues. I wasn’t expecting a new insight into grief as Johnnyswim walked out onto the stage that night, but that’s what I got.  The husband-wife duo talked about how they had lost his father and her mother in the span of a year. The pain left them reeling. They struggled with how to process it all. They received well-meaning advice from many friends and family members. The one piece of advice that stuck out to them the most was simple and direct. It was, “suffer…they were worth it”.

The sixth thing I’ve learned about grief is: they were worth it.

When people that we love die, it’s unbelievably painful. But the joy, experience, and impact of that love is worth all of the pain we feel and more. I wouldn’t trade my time with my brother to avoid the pain that I felt when he died. It was hard, but he was worth it. It still is hard in many ways, but now I am able to more freely remember all of the good he brought into my life. I remember him letting me beat him at basketball to boost my confidence. I remember going hunting on cold mornings, soaking up everything he told me about how to handle a gun, feeling so lucky that he would take me along. I remember sitting on a large outcropping of rock looking out over the mountains of western NC as they sprawled out beneath us. Both of us were stressed and struggling that evening. The therapy we found in our hike was simple yet profound. We shared sandwiches and chips, healing together in the silence. Words weren’t needed, presence was enough. C.S. Lewis captured it best, when he wrote,

“To love at all is to be vulnerable. Love anything and your heart will be wrung and possibly broken. If you want to make sure of keeping it intact you must give it to no one, not even an animal. Wrap it carefully round with hobbies and little luxuries; avoid all entanglements. Lock it up safe in the casket or coffin of your selfishness. But in that casket, safe, dark, motionless, airless, it will change. It will not be broken; it will become unbreakable, impenetrable, irredeemable. To love is to be vulnerable.”

So, if you are in the throes of grief, take solace in the fact that only a great love could have produced the pain you are feeling. The pain will eventually fade, and when the dust clears you will be left with a changed life and full heart. Grief is temporary, the impact of our best relationships is unending.

The post 6 Things I’ve Learned About Grief (Number 6) (The Final One) first appeared on Michael Ramsey.

In the years after my brother died, I began to interact with a lot of people who were facing loss. As a counselor I sat across from more and more people in the gray days after someone’s death as they tried to pull the pieces of their life back together. I noticed something in them that I had seen in myself. After the initial pain begins to subside, many people feel a burst of panic. The weight of loss can be so constant in the early days that when it begins to lift, it’s easy to feel that something is wrong. That’s when we scramble to find some way to keep their memory alive. I was in college when my Dad died. He loved to find and collect Native American artifacts in his free time. When fields around our home were plowed up, they would unearth shards of pottery, scrapers, and arrowheads. So, I felt that a way to keep my father with me would be to make a necklace out of one of the arrowheads he had found. It didn’t take long for me to realize that wearing a chunk of rock around your neck was a very uncomfortable way to remember someone you loved. Also, it’s a look only a few people can pull off, and I am evidently not one of those people.  Over time I realized what is now the fifth thing I’ve learned about grief.

You don’t have to fight to keep their memory alive.

Just because you aren’t hurting as much as you did before doesn’t mean that your Dad, brother, or wife no longer matters. You aren’t letting them down. You don’t have to actively think about someone daily in order to remember them. I know several people who have unintentionally punished their family that was still living by choosing to live almost totally in the past. That doesn’t honor the people we have lost.

We don’t have to fight to keep someone’s memory alive, because they are already a part of us and of our future. I can’t imagine who I would be without the encouragement and example of my brother. I am a totally different person today than I would have been if I had never known him. I carry that with me every day and into every relationship. I don’t have to worry about keeping his memory alive, because he is a living part of me.

So, when you are ready, it’s ok to pack up their bedroom or to give their clothes to Goodwill. You aren’t pushing them away. You are who you are because of them, and living life is the greatest possible celebration of their memory.

The post 6 Things I’ve Learned About Grief (Number 5) first appeared on Michael Ramsey.

I remember one afternoon a couple of months after my brother had died. Things were really busy at the time. I was serving as Interim Pastor at an amazing church in addition to my counseling job. After work, Makena and I flew to dance practice or looked over homework. I got to bed late every night and woke up early every morning. I was consumed with the need to get everything done at the highest level possible. I think that somewhere deep inside I believed that if I just stayed busy enough I could avoid the pain of this epic life loss that I had just faced. So, I was driving down the interstate that afternoon, my head in a thousand places at once. I grabbed my cell phone, punched in my brother’s number and was about to hit send, when the reality of his death crashed down around me all over again. He was gone and I couldn’t call him to talk about life anymore.

Lesson number 4 that I’ve learned about grief: you can’t control grief, only endure it.

You can’t control grief. You can hide from it for a while, but it won’t go away. Grief is a roller coaster ride of emotions, and it’s best to let it play out however it will. Trying to hold back or ignore the pain, or trying to manufacture emotion when you are numb doesn’t work. You may hold things back for a while, but sooner or later, just like a pressure cooker that never releases any steam, you will explode in a way that is unpredictable and painful. Here are a couple of things that will help you avoid controlling your grief:

Let it out.

Emotions will rise to the surface at random times in the weeks and months after you lose someone you love. Finding an old card or riding by a favorite restaurant may trigger emotions that you weren’t expecting. It’s ok. Cry if you need to. For that matter, get angry if that is what is called for. I know that there are moments when you need to hold it together, but those should be rare. Whenever possible, be emotionally honest with the feelings rising up inside of you.

It’s ok if people don’t fully understand what you are going through.

Grief looks different for everyone. So, set aside what you think it’s supposed to look like. It’s ok if the grief of losing your mother is different than the grief of losing your father. It doesn’t mean that you loved one less than the other, or that you are somehow not honoring their memory. Grief doesn’t have a predictable pattern and can be different for each person experiencing it. Beating yourself up for how much you feel or don’t feel is counterproductive. Just because someone doesn’t understand what you are going through, doesn’t mean that it isn’t valid.

Avoid hiding behind Christian sayings.

Embracing the truth about God’s love for you and the person you lost is very important. It’s easy, however, to hide behind Christian sayings as a way to avoid dealing with the loss we have suffered. “She’s in a better place” and “God is in control” are great thoughts and very true. I knew that my brother was “in a better place”, but the fact that he was no longer in the place where I was left me feeling depressed and alone. It’s ok to think or say, “I know that God is in control, but everything feels so out of control.” The psalmists were masters of this sort of honesty. God is ok with your honesty. He already knows what you are going through, and cares more than you can imagine.

Grief can’t be controlled, but it can be endured. Grief is a healing process and over time we will become stronger and whole once again. If you are in the middle of grief right now, hold on, things will get better!

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