ForgottenWoman

A Weekend of Personal Reflection

The reality of true grief is that it can emerge from every pore of your body at times, can seem to lie silent for days, may look like anger, overreaction to others, extreme sadness or overwhelming and dibilitating paralysis. Comparing one’s grief with that of another, or comparing types of grief is not today’s focus; though we’ve touched on that a bit in the past. We’ll probably explore some of that more deeply in the future: but today, I’m sitting here alone, after making a quick trip to visit my mother and father-in-law Thompson with mine and Jonnie’s sons and their families. For those unfamiliar: I was widowed at 23 with baby boys: 20 months and 8 weeks old at the time.

We weren’t expecting to make this trip this weekend and made the decision quickly after a phone call; and this evening I’m thinking over the past 48 hours and it seems important to just let the words flow. I pray they will be helpful to some.

Driving into the town that Jonnie and I shared, the roads we traveled together daily, remembering the spots where we ran out of gas and walked together, driving past the little used car lot where we purchased the very vehicle he lost his life in, seeing the signs to the hospital where our second son was born, seeing the very spot where early one morning we saw children waiting for a school bus and decided that we would be homeschooling our sons, (now that is a crazy memory!) driving past the McDonalds where our eldest had his first McDonald’s cheeseburger and fries: all of these things work together to tie knots in the gut, cause my eyes to sweat (this is what my granddaughter and I decided was happening) and put a lump in my throat. I was wanting to speak up and point places out to my family, but in the back of my mind I questioned if they wanted or needed to hear those jumbled thoughts. So, I mostly sat quietly in the back seat and looked out the windows thinking my own thoughts.

Making the rest of the drive to the road we actually lived on, seeing the entrance to the camp and then pulling up the drive to the home of my in -laws: well, how do I describe those emotions? The familiarity is comforting and yet brings such pain. While driving up the camp drive I was flooded with memories: memories of Jonnie on the tractor with Joey strapped on his back while he mowed, memories of me on the tractor with Joey strapped to my back while I mowed. Memories of getting stuck in deep snow while trying to plow the driveway with the same tractor and walking up the drive with Joey in tow. Memories of my push mowing the lawn of our home there on the camp property the morning that Josh was born – and remembering the details of yelling across the camp property to let Jonnie know we needed to get to the hospital. Those cherished memories of life with my little family that now are precious and painful wrapped up in the reality of what was lost. Memories of hiking from our home to the camp with both babies so that we could have lunch with Jonnie during the camp season. Looking across the property around the camp and reliving the afternoons of my working in the mobile canteen while Jonnie hid from others; lying in the floor of the canteen so we could talk uninterrupted. Memories of our last week of camp together: details of the Friday night and Saturday before his death… even being able to hear the sound of the vehicle as he drove quickly up the drive to check on me and the boys after we had to leave the campfire because they were both sick… and hearing his steps as he ran up to the door after coming home early from his speaking engagement on Saturday because “He needed to be with me!” It’s been 36+ years and those memories, sounds and emotions are as clear as if it were yesterday. Grief cements some things in our minds and blurs others.

When my mother-in-law wrapped her arms around me and kept expressing her love for me: well, the pent up emotions had no choice but to turn into soft sobs. Looking into the eyes of my father-in law and wondering if he really knows who I am – well, that was heartbreaking. And yet, while I watched our sons visit with the family, introduce their own children to aunts, uncles and again to their grandparents; the grief was mixed with a strange, quiet joy. This is my family: a group of people who became my family when I married Jonnie – a family that his death suddenly separated me from and made me feel like I no longer belonged in. It’s difficult to explain what happens when the link is suddenly gone. Grief can separate because each family member is affected in a unique way and in struggling to survive; we often miss how others are affected.

While I won’t compare pain or grief in a way that diminishes the love and pain others feel; I will try to explain how the effects do differ. A young widow, while grieving because of the love she has for her husband, is also facing every detail of her life being uprooted and changed. She feels and will feel the “grief” and effects of the death of her husband for the rest of her life. I will be sharing details of the moments, days, weeks and months following Jonnie’s death in my blog titled “Defining Moments” but when speaking of grief and the lasting effects – one of the things I felt most deeply then and still feel today is an “aloneness” that cannot be put into words. My father-in-law grieved deeply the loss of his son; but my mother- in- law was his constant companion and source of comfort and strength. Jonnie’s siblings each felt deep grief and each was wrapped in the arms of their spouses and children and one another. I felt that alone-ness again 3 years later when my own father passed away. The family stood around his deathbed and each of my siblings was wrapped in the arms of their spouses, my mom in the arms of her parents and I stood alone. Alone in the moment and alone in the long nights that followed. In my case, I lost my husband; but due to the nature of our work, I also lost our home, our income, our church family… I was forced to pick up my little boys and start a new life in a new home, a new state. In the blink of an eye; all of my dreams and plans were gone and the one that I longed to spend the rest of my life with – he wouldn’t be there for any of it. This is a grief that one can easily sit in and wallow in and never crawl out of. But: for the sake of two little boys, I had to. Getting up and creating a life for them – THAT was my reason for walking through the grief and finding strength to keep living. I took on a life motto at this time “Get your mind out of time and into eternity!” and this basically meant – don’t think about what you are missing and facing in the here and now. Live your life so that your boys will want Christ and accept eternal life! There is so much more that can be said – but today, I simply want to open the door for understanding, empathy and compassion for others who face true grief.

Grief: Unexplainable emotions and physical pain are both a part of this thing we call grief. Opinions and memes are seen and heard everywhere saying things like: “Time heals…” “It will hurt less over time.” “You will get to the place where you won’t cry every day.” “You’ll forget the sound of his voice.” “You shouldn’t talk about him anymore – it’s been many years!” “What’s your problem? Get over it!” “It’s unhealthy to think about the past: move on!” “You can’t have a future if you won’t let go of the past!” My answer to all of these is this. Deep grief is a part of my life. It is something that has molded who I am today and cannot be set aside as something to move on from: it’s effects flow through my being and create both negative and positive responses. It is what makes me tender and it is also what makes me sensitive to others. It may emerge as tears and it may bring forth laughter in memories. The love for those I grieve will never die but it will also never lessen the love I have for those in my life today. Love isn’t like that!

Grief looks back. Grief looks ahead. Grief mourns what was and is no longer. Grief mourns what you believed would be, that will never happen. Grief mourns sweet memories that highlight who is now missing. Grief mourns difficult memories that highlight what can never be made right. Grief mourns missed opportunities. Grief replaces hope with a deep sadness. Grief leaves an emptiness where once life felt full. Grief lingers after years have passed. Grief asks questions that cannot be answered.

But grief also gives a perspective to life that cannot be gained any other way. Grief teaches us what is important. Grief teaches us to prioritize people above things and personal goals. Grief teaches us to set aside differences and embrace qualities. Grief teaches us to set aside our pride and express our love often. Grief teaches us to cherish every moment with those we love. Grief teaches us to humble ourselve, to seek forgiveness and give forgiveness for the health of relationships. Grief teaches us to communicate while we can. Grief teaches us to value the good we see in others and tell them! Grief teaches us to appreciate the beauty around us. Grief teaches us to make the most of every moment. Grief teaches us to listen when others speak. Grief teaches us to recognize when another is hurting. Grief teaches us to smile through the tears. Grief teaches us to keep moving when it hurts. Grief teaches us that only through walking through the hurt will we be become strong enough to walk beside someone else when they are feeling the deep hurt. You’ve probably heard it said that those who love deeply, hurt deeply. It is true. I believe it is also true that those who have hurt deeply, love deeply.