Loss

This afternoon I read a posting on a friend's blog that revealed she and her spouse have experienced their second miscarriage in less than a year. Her poetic prose makes it all seem so real. The reader feels the edge of the pain to a very small degree in relation to the pain they are facing. I know the grief will be an arduous process to negotiate. I am sure that God has a vision for what life will look like for the couple on the other side of the grief, but living in it has to be an all consuming event.

I cannot claim to feel what my sister in Christ is feeling, but hearing her suffering in her written voice brings back memories of walking through the fire of grief.

It was a nightmare.

It was lonely.

It was overwhelming.

It seemed pointless.

Life was gray and listless.

Fair did not exist.

Peace was a fallacy.

Justice was illusive.

In reality, the list is endless.

But one thing comes to mind as I witness my dear friend's trek through the confusion and fog. My role and that of all who love her is to purely love her. Platitudes, reasoning, acting normal, "praying for yous," "move ons," "let me know if I can do anything," and avoidances are not so helpful.

Having become an introvert throughout my marriage, I thought being alone was all I wanted so I could pray, read my Bible, and journal. However, the reality was I needed people to love me deeply so I would start to learn that I am loveable no matter what might happen in life. I needed people not to judge and offer advice, I just needed them to let me be silent or rail at God and the betrayers in my situation. I didn't need people to show me how to be strong, I needed them to let me cry until I could not cry anymore. And then I needed all of that the next day and the next day and the next day, until the need started to dwindle.

Over the past four years, acquaintances and friends have expressed that I should share my story. In fact, several stated that in the midst of all my turmoil and nothing offended more. Why would someone think it would be helpful to a freshly grieving divorcee that someday my story will help others. What about "today"? What is going to help "ME today"? is what I would scream in my head.

So, the advice I would like to offer to those of us who have grieving loved ones is as follows.

1. Do not avoid contact!

2. Love deeply and show it as often as possible.

-hugs

-a single flower

-bring a meal

-listen

-send notes

-send a favorite song

-go for a walk together

-do a hobby together

-cry together

-look in the eyes and say, "I love you!"

3. Do not offer advice unless asked or you know God is instructing you to do so.

4. Do not wait for the griever to ask for help because it won't happen. Try stepping into the griever's shoes and take the risk to offer something. (Clean house, pay bills, take the kids, cook dinner, wash clothes, etc...)

5. Do not be perpetually present. The griever does need time to process.

So, there you have it. Advice I try to live by now that I have experienced a heart-wrenching loss of my own.

Much love to all of you who have guided me through my fire-walk!