Grief is Sneaky

In case you were wondering, it should be noted that grief is sneaky AND a jerk. Like I said, just in case you were wondering. Most days now I walk around getting on with the business at hand. It’s not that I don’t think about mom; it’s not that I don’t miss her; it’s not that I don’t feel her loss. It’s just that most days, I’m “okay” with it all. I truly view death as a part of life. For those living in Christ Jesus, death is the sweetest part of this life. I work in an industry in which I see death first hand every… single... day…

That doesn’t make dealing with death easier; it just makes it feel much more normal. So, when I’m walking around, minding my own business, and grief comes strolling up all like “hey, how you been?” it has the tendency to really catch me off guard and tick me off just a little bit. I’m in my groove. I don’t cry all of the time. I’m just doing my thing.

Grief clearly finds that to be unacceptable behavior at times. Twice in the past week and a half, I have found myself the recipient of grief’s unexpected company. The first time was the day before my mom’s birthday. I had a doctor’s appointment with one of her doctors for some follow up. Easy peasy, no big deal, I’ve known this doctor for years, and I love her. Oh how we deceive ourselves. I find myself on the way to my appointment literally crying so hard I can barely see out of my windshield. Then I get in the building and a sweet older mother / daughter couple need help finding their oncology office (mom’s other doctor). Let’s detour by the bathroom to pull our self together AGAIN before actually going in to OUR appointment.

Appointment done. Went great. Acknowledged grief. Acknowledged “why” this bothered me. Birthday, doctors mom had seen, in the same office again after all these months. Blah, blah, blah. Okay grief, you got me. I’m not over it, I get it. Moving on for now.

Today I found myself crying over my mom because of something a friend is going through with their mom. Wait! What? This is not about ME. This is about her and her mom. However, in this moment, it is about me. Grief that I’m still dealing with. Grief that surfaces as someone else’s situation reminds me of what mom and I walked through.

I don’t like grief. I don’t like it at all. I don’t like the touchy feely emotions of it all. I don’t like the crying. Most of all I hate the inability to stop the crying when I so desperately want to stop the crying. Wait, did I mention I hate the crying?

After saying all of that, grief is a teacher. A great teacher – if we only accept the teaching. No one wants to be taught by grief. Human nature fights against loss. Nonetheless, it’s inevitable. Grief teaches compassion. Grief teaches us to feel for our brothers and sisters in life as they travel similar roads and journeys. It allows us to at least sympathize with their pain. Grief teaches us sensitivity. It teaches us to be sensitive to others and to ourselves. Once we’ve experienced the true heartbreak of grief, it allows us to at least understand the pain others feel. Grief teaches us of God’s mercy. God shows us mercy as He comforts us in our loss. God shows us mercy in His permanent healing of our loved ones. Grief teaches us that regardless of gender, race, religion, sexual orientation, financial status, etc. that at the beginning of life and at the end of life, we are all the same. That doesn’t mean I have to like it. I’m just at a place of allowing the teaching and honoring and accepting my own grief.