Can you “get over” grief? Can you recover from the loss of a child, the loss of a spouse, or the trauma of an attack so that it no longer bothers you?
There’s been a twitter fight going on recently between Joel Osteen, a motivational speaker who says “yes, you can get over it, God wants you to, and if grief lasts more than a few months you’re wallowing” (okay, I’m paraphrasing), and those who say that some hurts just stay with you. The latter camp believes firmly that Osteen is being insensitive to those who have endured something huge like losing a child, and does not understand the grief process.
Personally, I fall mostly into the second camp, too.
The grief process isn't simple and straightforward; Grief isn't something that you just get over. Click To TweetYes, it’s true, as Osteen supporters say, that “we don’t grieve in the way the world grieves” (1 Thessalonians 4:13), but that doesn’t mean that we just get over a huge, aching void.
Nineteen years ago I lost my baby boy.
At 9:30 p.m. on September 3 he was looking like he had turned a corner. The crisis post-surgery had passed. So I kissed him on the forehead (the only place I could reach without tubes), and said, “Good night, Christopher. Mommy loves you. I’ll see you in the morning.” And Keith and I walked out of the Intensive Care Unit and walked home.
At 1:30 a.m. the phone rang. We had better come now, the nurse said, because he was crashing.
When we got to the hospital they were still working on my baby. Fifteen minutes later they brought his body out to us. He was swaddled in a blanket, and the only thing we could see was his little face, with his little tongue sticking out a bit.
We held him and cried over him, and then I kissed him on the forehead and I said, “Goodbye, Christopher. Mommy loves you. I’ll see you in heaven.” And I handed him back to the nurse.
Over the next few days it hurt to breathe.
It felt like someone was stepping on my chest. I had to concentrate to force myself to eat, to force myself to pick up Rebecca (our daughter who was 18 months old), to force myself to shower.
But then, I remember about two weeks in, I had a good day. I didn’t cry much at all. And I felt guilty about that. What was wrong with me? How could I be “over” such a loss?
I shouldn’t have worried, because a week later I was a mess again. But slowly but surely those horrible days got fewer and farther between. They still came, but there were good moments, too.
About a month after he died someone shared with me this truth about grief which helped me so much:
You don’t “get over” grief. Something will set you off–a song, the back of a stranger’s head, a movie–and you’ll be thrown back to that ICU room, feeling everything with the same intensity. But those moments will come less frequently, and they won’t last as long. Instead of a whole day of not being able to function you may just have an hour when you sob and journal.
And those times are random. Sometimes they may be at anniversaries, but often it’s when we’re stressed about something else, or when we’re by ourselves just thinking or even enjoying life. And then it will come–what we’re missing. And it will be so, so sad.
The person who told me this also gave me these words:
When you have good days, do not feel guilty for them. The good days do not mean that you have forgotten the person you loved. They just mean that you are still able to enjoy the good things that God has given you. That love is still there, and there will always be times, unbidden, when that love will manifest itself in tears and in aches and even in rages. But those times will be less frequent. Laughter will return. So enjoy life when you can, and give in to the tears when you must. This world is broken, and God understands our grief. It’s okay to feel it–but don’t feel badly if you feel it less frequently than you once did.
Those words meant so much to me, and now, every time I have a friend who suffers a great loss, like a miscarriage or a death in the immediate family, I share these truths about the grief process with her, too.
In the discussion on Twitter about Osteen I was sent a lovely article by a grieving mom that tells the same story–how she still grieves, but there is also light in her eyes. And that’s okay.
And so I wanted to share that concept of the timing of the grief process with you all today. Joel Osteen proves that even those who are Christians don’t really understand grief. Grief is not unChristlike or self-focused. Jesus Himself grieves. But Jesus also laughs. And one of the most amazing things about this life is how laughter and grief can often co-exist.
Grieving is not ungodly; covering up pain and not speaking Truth, on the other hand, is.
So let’s extend grace to one another when we grieve, and let’s extend grace to ourselves, both when we have a hard time dealing with grief, and when we seem to be able to laugh too early. Neither is a sign that we are far from God; they are both simply signs that we are human. And that, after all, is how God made us.
If you’re walking through grief right now, you’ll appreciate my book How Big Is Your Umbrella: Weathering the Storms of Life. It’s all about the things that we yell at God when life is difficult, and what He whispers back. And it talks about how the reality and promise of heaven can make the grief process easier. The ebook version is really inexpensive, so if you’re having a hard time–I hope this can bless you.
Will you do me a favour? Will you share the chart about grief on Pinterest (or on Facebook) so more people “get it”? To make it easy, you can just repin my post here. Thank you!
Sheila Wray Gregoire has been married for 25 years and happily married for 20! She loves traveling around North America with her hubby in their RV, giving her signature "Girl Talk" about sex and marriage. And she's written 8 books. About sex and marriage. See a theme here? Plus she knits. Even in line at the grocery store.
Thank you Sheila! I am currently studying to become a clinical counsellor, (yes, a later-in-life career switch) and my focus is on grief counselling. I have suffered many losses, and I am always struck by the fact that even as Christians with the hope of being reunited with our loved ones, we do a terrible job comforting those in grief. I have found, as you write so beautifully, that grief does indeed come in waves, even years later. It is not something you ever ‘get over’. It is something where the painful moments become farther apart, leaving more space for remembering the good times without such a terrible ache. But you are so right… a favourite song, a visit to a familiar place, seeing that person’s favourite chocolate bar… any of these can cause another wave. I’ve learned to embrace the wave as a reminder of how many people I was blessed to have loved.
Yes, exactly! And I love that word “wave”, because that’s what it feels like–it comes over you when you don’t expect it and envelops you. But it usually is temporary, and it’s honestly okay.
The wave is very strong, sometimes it is best to just ride along with it, where’s fighting that current can take you under.
I keep my surfboard handy.
My grandma lost her first child, he was forever referred to by name and counted as a blessing. Pain helps us know joy. I lost three pregnancies, lost my firstborn at birth. Somehow I was blessed with two children, but I still had holes. Forty years ago my best friend and roommate died in her sleep. Twenty years ago my Mama died. There are holes, but there is so much light around those holes that I find it best to allow myself the pleasure of remembrance, but it comes with pain. Feelings, emotions are our gift from God and to acknowledge this is a good thing.
No, it does not go away, but it can be held – at times- in soft focus.
I like that–held in soft focus. That’s beautiful.
My sister lost her son just before his 23rd birthday – after years of his struggling with Schizophrenia. She described her grief like this: “It’s like having a hole in the floor of your living room. At first, you step into it all the time, but eventually, you know it’s there, but you don’t want to have to show it to everyone to come by. So you put a throw rug over it. It’s there, just not the first thing that you see. And because you know it’s there – you walk around the edge of it. Somedays, you forget or choose not to be careful, and you step right into the hole. But because of the rug, you don’t fall as deeply as you did without it. You are still in the hole, but getting out is much easier.”
I think there is a lot of wisdom in that, and after mom’s sudden death last year – I now know it to be true. I never know when I’ll step into the hole again, or what will trigger it. But most days, despite my missing her desperately, no one would know what my “hole in the room” is…
Greig never goes away – it just changes.
That’s such a neat word picture, too! And so very accurate. I’m sorry about the loss of your mother. I know how much that will hurt me when the time comes, too.
It was worse than any pain I have ever been through, I actually couldn’t breathe as I heard the news. Each morning leading up to the funeral brought the reality crashing in again. I “knew” it was coming – she had been trying to prepare us all, and none of us took her seriously, nor did we think it would be so sudden. Yet, it’s overwhelming at how graciously God brought her home. It might have been once of the most grace-filled deaths I have ever known. I can’t imagine how I would have walked through it not knowing the truth of her salvation. All the traits of her’s that I carry and once fought, I now treasure…
It certainly brings a whole new perspective of empathy as I encounter those who are grieving.
I love this word picture. I think that is exactly what grief is like.
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Thank you so much for this story…I just lost my mom suddenly 3 months ago. I feel like I am on a rollercoaster ride….some days are fine then wham…..it hits you hard and the tears just flow. I have come to realize that people don’t really know how to treat someone in the grieving process….so they either back off and don’t come around or say things that should never come out of their mouths. No one wants to take the time to just listen….I know ….I have people tell me….don’t spill your guts….but I am not talking about because I do know that people don’t want to hear the whole ball of wax…but it would be nice to be able to say…I am having a bad day…and someone really care…
I lost my mom 14 years ago, and the hole is still there, and always will be. It’s all about finding your “new normal.” In my experience, people think that you should be “over it” by now. But you never get over it. And I have had friends fall by the way side, and I think some of it maybe because they don’t want to get too close and see that pain, especially if they have never been through it before. It’s nice for someone to just acknowledge your pain, and ask how you are doing, cause personally, that is all I need. We won’t go into a long discussion, but thank you for asking.
I really don’t believe you get over everything – some things, yes. But, not everything. As long as one is free to live life with the abundance Jesus promised us without guilt or the specific event holding you back, having those moments of grief are actually good. It reminds us that we’re human, that we’re frail and that we are in dire need of our Creator to come and save us. And it reminds us that one day – in Heaven – we will be reunited with those that have passed on. I am convinced that my first baby that I miscarried is waiting for me in Heaven. And I am dying to meet him. And I still get sad at all that happened, because that is life. And life can be sad. But, it isn’t holding me back from moving forward or enjoying where I am now. And it certainly makes me grateful I believe in a God who stepped in when I needed Him the most to show me just how much He truly loves me.
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Yes! I was talking to my daughter about what healing really meant, and that’s the definition she gave, too: that you can move forward in abundance. It doesn’t mean that you aren’t sad anymore or that you don’t have those moments. It just means that the grief isn’t preventing you from living your life anymore. This idea that we will somehow stop being sad and that that’s the definition of healing is really off-base and so totally unrelated to reality, in my opinion.
Perfect, as always. ❤️
I would have said I was pretty well “over” the loss of my baby until my appointment to check on my current pregnancy two weeks ago. I was crying on the drive begging God to just let there be a heartbeat. I was 11 weeks, we’d seen the heartbeat 3 times compared to none at all with the baby we lost, so there wasn’t much reason to be scared, except that I’d already lost one. I should have been 38 weeks now with the baby I lost, and the baby I’m carrying now helps me not be a mess approaching my due date, because there’s someone else who is depending on me, but it’s still hard. The other thing that helps is knowing that pain and suffering is not because we have a vindictive god who plans each individual’s pain, but a loving God who in spite of sin entering the world helps us through the pain and suffering sin causes and grows us from it and allows us to support others through it, and one day will restore everything that was lost at the resurrection.
Melanie, I was the same as you. I was a mess during my pregnancy with Katie because we’d had one miscarriage and one baby die. I was so paranoid all the time. I’m still so grateful for God’s grace that He held me during that time and that Katie was healthy, but it was HARD.
I am at the beginning of our grief journey. Our 4 1/2 year old son passed away unexpectedly in his sleep in January. I feel like I’ve been thrown into the deep end of the pool of grief, but as the months go by there are more and more days where I find myself coming up for air. I don’t think I will ever ‘get over’ losing my precious Mikail to heaven so early, but I pray that joy continues to come in the mourning. I am so thankful for our heavenly Father who carries us in all things. I will add your book to my wishlist of books to read.
Oh, Iris, how absolutely tragic. I am so, so sorry. Yes, I will pray that joy does come, too, and that you will be able to remember with laughter and not only with tears.
I lost my husband and 6 yr old son Isaiah on the same day. Oct 12, 2007. I am truly sorry for your loss. I will keep you in my prayers! I know you are just in the beginning and it feels as though you can barely get a breath of air. When yiu have a child you find the meaning of love and that love reaches into the deepest parts of your soul. When you loose that child, you feel pain in the deepest part of your soul. Places in your heart that you didn’t know existed are in deep agony. My heart breaks again just reading your post. But this article is true. There will come a time that you will be able to grasp a bit of air, then a little more and a little more until one day you actually go a whole day…..and you may feel guilty then that you actually did breathe and smile and laugh. But even that heals a little with time. But this graph is true. The truth is that it never goes away but that you will get more and more days in between and it is true that you can enjoy life here, and laugh, dance, and grieve all at the same time. I remember in the beginning, so desperately wanting to fast forward because i believed time heals all wounds. True and not true!!! I dont like that terminology anymore. It lessons but never completely heals. Just 2 days ago i found homework of Isaiahs from the week before he died and it took me back to that hole but the wave was less caotic. Oh, i cried. It hurt. But i was able to get up off the floor and finish the rest of the day….and hug my now 2 yr old son and smile and laugh with him. There have been several several moments like these throughout the last 8 yrs. But there have been more good days then bad. Prayers for you love! Fall into our heavenly father as he grieves with you and catches every tear .
I loved your graphic to illustrate grief. My husband and I had a miscarriage 8 years ago. That, along with some other things going on in our lives, sent me into a deep depression. It was a dark time for me. I now have 2 beautiful and healthy children, a strong marriage, and frankly, life is good. But just yesterday while driving to work I thought of that baby. What would our lives be like if our first child had been ours to hold? And suddenly I couldn’t stop the tears. That happens so infrequently now, but there are still those times. But I think as Christians we can later (or maybe simultaneously?) rejoice too. Maybe that is what Mr. Osteen is getting at??? I don’t know…either way I loved your post.
Yes, I know what you mean about rejoicing–I rejoice that Christopher is still alive, and that I will see him again. I’m glad you managed to pull out of the depression. That must have been such a dark time in your life.
I, too, will agree with you on this one. I sometimes wonder if we are failing to appreciate the power and importance of these experiences to shape who we are. When I think to our first son’s stillbirth (about the same time as your Christopher), yes, it makes me sad and it hurts, but I also feel a certain “satisfaction” from remembering his brief sojourn on earth. I still feel a fondness for that little boy that, if I may be so bold, brings me a certain “joy” amidst the sadness.
We recently went to see “Inside Out”. One of the aspects of the movie that I noticed was how Joy did not want, and tried not to allow, sadness to make the memories sad. When Riley creates a sad core memory, Joy creates all kinds of problems by trying to block the installation of that core memory. As the movie progresses, I think the filmmakers try to show, in part, how sadness is not necessarily an emotion to avoid, but how sadness also impacts who we become. Part of that means that the pain never truly goes away, but that pain and grief also become important parts of who we are.
Now, we do need to be careful about “wallowing” as he puts it. Grief should not take over our lives for extended stretches of time. But I don’t think that mental or spiritual health requires us to completely forget our grief and pain.
I’ll have to see that movie, Dave! I haven’t heard of it before but I’ll look it up.
And yes, I think the pain does become a part of who we are, and that’s honestly okay.
I tell people the grief doesn’t really get easier, just different. I lost my mom suddenly eight years ago, and there are still times it feels like a punch in the stomach, but it doesn’t last as long and I can move on easier than I was able to at first. I can talk about that day and not dissolve into tears most of the time. It still isn’t easy, but different than it was eight years ago.
I have found that I am much more understanding when talking to someone dealing with grief than I was before. To say or even imply someone is wallowing in their grief because they are unable to move on after a few months is insensitive, and shows a vast misunderstanding of grief and how it impacts someone for the rest of their life. To grieve hard shows you have loved much.
Loved what you had to say. Meant a lot to me. I just lost my mom suddenly 3 months ago.
Sheila,
This was so wonderful for me to read. It makes such sense in my life and for the hurting wives at Hopeful Wife Today. Often our husbands don’t “get it”. It’s not that we aren’t letting God restore our marriage or that we’re not extending forgiveness. It’s just that some days we are grieving the losses in our marriage. And you are exactly right. That sadness is not gone. It just grows further and further apart. I think this article will help a lot of husband’s understand why their wives can have sudden sadness when everything seems to be going great. God bless you and thank you.
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Sheila,
Thank you so much for sharing your story and writing about this much needed post. I definitely fall in the latter category. Most people do not understand grief. Everyone is different in how they grieve or for how long. I grew up in a home where when someone passed away, they were not talked about anymore. It was like they ceased to ever exist. I never knew my birth mom, she passed away when I was 15 months old. Thank goodness, for my sweet aunt who has shared stories about her.
My dad passed away 14 years ago. This past June he would have been 84. On his birthday, I was so overcome with sadness, it was overwhelming. With my husband and son, I always try to share happy and even funny memories of our family members and friends who have passed away. By sharing memories it helps so much with the sadness and for keeping them “alive.” Yes, grieving gets easier but you never get over losing a loved one.
I love that perspective on how grief works. I think that’s very true, Sheila.
Also, I’d point out that those times of grief look different for different people. For instance, someone might be grieving enormously even if they aren’t crying.
We’re often uncomfortable with people mourning, and we just want them to get it over with and be happy again. But it’s okay to weep, ache, remember, grieve. It doesn’t make us weak; it makes us real.
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I think there’s something worth question here apart from the grief process — without in any way wanting to detract from that issue. Some Christians believe that to not ‘get over’ a whole host of traumas is unChristian. Christ had ‘the Victory’ and therefore we should not suffer the way people who don’t have ‘the Victory’ do. That’s the assumption. It is one of the many ways some Christians try to seem superior to non-Christians. We-lost-our-child-or-had-an-abusive-childhood-etc-but we ‘got over’ it a lot more quickly because we are Christians kind of thinking. There *is* a sense of course that as Christians we have resources of hope and faith non-Christians don’t have and thus we are a lot less likely to lapse into cynicism or worse as the result of trauma — but we still suffer the same way. When we break a leg or have abdominal surgery Jesus doesn’t wave his wand and make it as though we don’t need pain meds. Of course, sometimes miracles do happen but to expect the miracle — to see the miracle as evidence of being a ‘faithful’ good Christian is really destructive thinking — I believe. It makes people with disabilities or people who have mental illnesses or PSTD etc. as the result of enduring a trauma feel like failures when the miracle doesn’t happen. If only I’d prayed harder or better or used the right words or quoted scripture etc. or — worse — if only I hadn’t sinned — or well you can fill in the blank — then I wouldn’t be suffering. This ‘grief shouldn’t last if you’re a Christian’ thinking is like that — as though we should be exempt from the pain the rest of the world suffers. If we are — then we have little to offer the world. Our pain — like Christ’s — is the source of our authority. In fact – that is what being a disciple means — being disciplined by the pain of the world and thus ‘drawing all men to [us]’. Jesus’ story is our story and that — for me — is the main consolation of the good news. The cry of dereliction is for us and the resurrection is for us — Good Friday *and* Easter — both — and finally — the ascension. But it is a process and suggesting it shouldn’t hurt ‘that much’ — is like telling Jesus to ‘buck up’ in the garden of gesthemane and be consoled by the fact that he was going to the Father. He *was* consoled by that but it didn’t detract from the terrible pain he had to endure. What was true for him is true for us. We’re not saved from suffering — we’re saved from sin. Anyway — I felt I needed to suggest that such beliefs need to be questioned vigorously. They cause more pain than they alleviate.
So true.
Jesus, the most perfect and most real man there ever was, cried in front of Lazarus’s tomb. He knew he was going to bring him back to life in a few minutes. But he still cried. Because death is sad and horrible and it wasn’t part of his original plan. He knows this more than anyone. He didn’t tell Martha and Mary to “get over it”. He cried with them.
Jesus also wept over Jerusalem. He wept over out pain and sin and struggle and anguish and all the other things we brought into the world by rejecting him.
In The Magician’s Nephew (the first Narnia book), there is this scene:
But when he [Digory] said “Yes,” he thought of his Mother, and he thought of the great hopes he had had, and how they were all dying away, and a lump came in his throat and tears in his eyes, and he blurted out:
“But please, please—won’t you—can’t you give me something that will cure Mother?” Up till then he had been looking at the Lion’s great front feet and the huge claws on them; now, in his despair, he looked up at its face. What he saw surprised him as much as anything in his whole life. For the tawny face was bent near his own and (wonder of wonders) great shining tears stood in the Lion’s eyes. They were such big, bright tears compared with Digory’s own that for a moment he felt as if the Lion must really be sorrier about his Mother than he was himself.
“My son, my son,” said Aslan. “I know. Grief is great. Only you and I in this land know that yet. Let us be good to one another.”
I don’t think we can try in minimize grief and pretend that it doesn’t exist when God Himself, the source of all joy in the universe, wept.
I just love C.S. Lewis. One of the things I’m looking the most forward to in heaven–after seeing Jesus and my loved ones, of course–is sitting at C.S. Lewis’ feet and just talking to him. What powerful truths he communicated in such simple ways. God gave him an amazing gift, and he is missed.
I don’t think anyone gets totally over a loss. I still miss my step-daughter that we lost at age 10 when her grandmother & her were hit by a pickup. It nearly 24 years ago. It gets easier, but you never fully get over the loss.
So incredibly, incredibly true. I’d also recommend a picture book called, “Tear Soup,” it’s a great book on the grieving process, it helped me so much when my Dad died right before I got married. I remember finding it in a Barnes and Noble and sitting in the store and crying as I read the book. Now when I have a friend dealing with grief I give them that book, it’s one you can share with a young child or a full grown adult.
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Thanks so much for sharing this from your own painful experience, Sheila. I think that the advice given to you, that you are now sharing with others who are grieving, is perfect. For Christian “leaders” to suggest that they can prescribe how and how long others should grieve really astonishes me. (Well, to be honest, no it doesn’t.) While it is true that Christians don’t grieve as the world grieves, because of their ultimate hope in Christ, that does not mean that we don’t grieve painfully and often over an extended period of time. I think that the process of moving through grief and it easing in some ways over time is really spot on.
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Thanks, Gaye!
What a slap in the face to those who have suffered horrible losses. Just another reason to NOT follow him. Grief. Ugh. It’s sort of like a stalking tiger. You never know when it’s going to pounce on you and take you down, even just for a moment. I’ll never forget you or your Christoper because you lost him on the exact day my oldest son was born. Since I started following you a few years ago, I always remember to pray for you on my Chad’s birthday. Hugs. Thank you for addressing this lie. Grief should never be shamed by others.
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Oh, thank you for praying for me like that! That’s lovely. I really do appreciate that, Mel.
Sheila:
I am thankful for your ministry! I appreciate this article about grief and I pray for the Lord’s constant comfort for you and your family as you continue grieving with hope. My dad passed away about five years ago and I have written a few articles also reflecting on the grieving process as followers of Christ. I am including the links below with the hope they can be of encouragement for those who have suffered a loss.
Grace,
Octavio Esqueda
My Dad: http://www.bpnews.net/32601/firstperson-my-dad
Pain and Hope: http://www.bpnews.net/34890
Blessing and Vandalism of Shalom: http://www.thegoodbookblog.com/2012/feb/28/the-blessing-of-shalom-and-the-vandalism-of-shalom/
My Dad: Five Years later: http://www.thegoodbookblog.com/2015/mar/16/my-dad-five-years-after-he-passed-away/
Why anybody even listens to Joel Osteen is beyond me. He is a false teacher and a false preacher. I agree with you on the grief issue. Time, time and more time. And even then, somemore time. Great article.
Sheila,
I’m so sorry for your painful loss. I will say prayers for you, your family and your little Christopher in heaven. I truly believe our loved ones can see, hear and feel our prayers in heaven and that helps me with the grieving process, though it still isn’t easy.
(((Hugs)))
How ignorant and arrogant to assume there’s a one-size-fits-all way of grieving! How can that be if we’re all different? Why should we grieve the same? Finally, who has the right to decide how we should grieve?
We all have areas in our lives to mourn/grieve yet it does seem to me that there are those among us who are more affected than others. I have a friend who was raped on more than one occasion beginning in her early childhood. She was also abused by her father in various ways. As an adult, she was attacked and left for dead. All of this horror paled in comparison to two of her three children passing away suddenly. Tell me, how can someone like her just move on? The reality is that she can’t. She tries mightily. She struggles daily and that’s the key. She takes it day by day. She carries her grief and her PTSD with her each day and she moves through it. She certainly doesn’t get over it and I Imagine she won’t until God heals her in the resurrection.
People like my friend need to be allowed to grieve their way and not be made to feel guilty for not doing it someone else’s way.
I agree with you. PTSD especially, is something people don’t understand unless they are walking through it. And you NEVER get over PTSD. You can learn to cope with it, but it never ever goes away. Grief, as well, can be coped with, but does not go away. I am so sorry your friend had to endure such pain. And Sheila, I can’t put to words how I feel for your pain of losing your baby boy. I can’t sleep well at night for fearing over my Ayla. I am so afraid she’ll be taken from me.
I don’t agree with not do I approve of Joel Osteens preaching. I think he preaches to the masses and some of his stuff is not biblical. God warns us to not follow man like that. I personally believe he is a false prophet and I don’t listen to anything by him, not TV, Twitter, FB, absolutely NOTHING. I knew for sure when he did his interview with Pierce Morgan about gays. He is a “feel good” preacher not a biblical one. Of course, this is just my opinion.
AMEN!
Thank you for being open and real about your grief. Our son went to heaven at 19, in his sleep. We are thankful he did not suffer, but miss him terribly. We have met so many people in similar situation. Life can be hard, God is good.
You are spot on in what you shared! As I read your article, I wanted to shout “EXACTLY!”
Grief is not something you “get over”! After the sudden death of my 27 yr old son in a horrible accident 11 years ago – 2 months and 2 days before his wedding day, I described the waves of grief initially as tsunami waves. Grief would come crashing over fiercely! Eventually they lessened a little to what I described as tidal waves – a little less intense. As time went by, they become more like waves from a fierce storm, then eventually lessening more into gentle waves which would wash over me when I least expected. Occasionally the larger waves would occur, but in time less frequently, and lasting less time.
The most important thing to remember is that grief is different for everyone…..even those who suffer a like loss, or those grieving the loss of the same person. Our personalities are different, as are our relationship with the person who has died. Our life experiences are different, as are other stresses in life, for each one of us. One can’t be expected to grieve, or for their grief to last the same length of time as someone else. It has been over 11 yrs since my son’s death, and there are times when emotions rise to the surface. But, I have learned that even in grief, one can experience joy and peace.
To expect one to “get over” grief, is not realistic, and is not being fair to those grieving. One is not “wallowing” if still grieving after a few months! They are being human! God gave us emotions and tears, and to expect one to “move on”, and a broken heart to mend in a few months…..or even years is totally unrealistic. I used the word picture of a wound such as an incision or terrible cut. In time, the wound heals but never totally. It will never “go away”. The scar will remain forever. So it is with grief. As time goes on, our wound – the loss of our loved one – will continue to heal….. but it never goes away. The hole in our heart will forever be there. Only when we enter into God’s presence in heaven will we be totally “healed”. I still have those moments when I miss my son terribly, and I always will. But, I also rejoice that I KNOW I will see him again one day!
Thank you again for what you have shared!
Thank you again for what you have shared. You have described grief well.
I lost my husband Richard to war time PTSD October 31st 2014. I was almost 6 months pregnant with our son when he decided that his life was over. I still have more down days then I do up days. Every day is a struggle for me. Some days it’s really hard to pick up our son Jeremiah because he looks so much like his dad. There isn’t a day where I don’t step in my hole in the floor at least once. I have yet to find a way to release some of these feelings of hurt, sadness, and anger. Every morning I still look at my phone with anticipation hoping for my daily morning txt of “good morning my beautiful angel I love you.” Hoping this is just one long nightmare but then I replay his last words he said to me in my head “I know how to make everyone happy. Just remember I love you and I always will my beautiful angel.” The last time I saw him he was laying in a funeral home in the viewing room with the long red blanket covering everything but the face he didn’t look like my husband and I sat there for a awhile crying and yelling at him. Wanting to touch him and feel his warm body wrapped around me. Every day I feel guilty because there was nothing I could do. No way to save him. But I guess its how we process through grief. It takes some people longer than others to start laughing again. One day I will get there but for now….I just take it one day at a time.
Oh, Brittny. How awful. I’m so sorry. So, so sorry. I wish I could give you a hug right now.
I have been wanting to write every day about it and write letters to him but when I sit down to do it all I do is cry and just stare at the paper and watch my tear drops soak my paper.
Dear Brittny,
I’m sitting here wiping tears…I’m so sorry for your loss. Keep crying, keep shedding tears, keep releasing emotions ..
Someone likened our tears to a big bucket full.. Each time we cry it’s as if we’re taking a ladle full of tears out of the bucket. It empties very slowly, but never completely. After losing two precious husbands (27 yrs ago and 2 yrs. ago) I’m still crying. Writing to them or about them can be very cathartic. It took many years before I could tell the story of my first great loss.. (Seven Angels for Seven Days.) I find journalling helpfull. One way of discharging emotions.
God bless – He sees your tears.
Angie
Thanks! There are some very good points about grief here in this article. I might also add to the list “grief over loss of a child due to parental alienation”. Some say it is worse than losing a child because there is no closure …. I describe it as the child sliding off into a parallel universe, never to be contacted again.
This. This-this-this-this-this.
I wish people, especially Christians, would understand grief more. Sometimes, it’s just simply not knowing. Other times, it’s inexcusable. Osteen and his comments are in the latter camp.
My father and grandmother died in a tragic car accident Dec. 23, 1982. I was 6, my brother was 2. I remember, being a pastor’s child and growing up in church, praying that God would bring my Dad back…because when you are a child, God is HUGE and He can do anything, right? I didn’t talk a lot about my Dad, because I was scared of upsetting my Mum. In turn, as I grew older, I wanted to know more about my father, but people would not speak about him to me (even to this day, some won’t) because they didn’t want to upset me. I was whammied by grief in high school…I didn’t understand what was going on, and so I talked to my guidance counsellor, who explained that it was delayed grief. From then on, I’ve experienced times of missing him at significant events in my life.
Now? I’m riding the grief tidal wave again. My husband chose to separate from, and leave, me and my 2 children. What Howie said about parental alienation? Like death without closure? That is what I’m going through. I went around in a fog for about a month after he told me what his plan was (out of the blue, no warning, etc.). I lost weight, etc. Since he moved out, I’ve gotten better, but I hit a depression wall. Fortunately, having dealt with depression before, I knew I needed help, so I called my GP and got me an Rx for anti-depressants. I’m MUCH better. 3 days after starting my meds, I felt like that Claritin commercial, where they peel back the layer and you can see in bright and vivid colour again.
While I am doing better, and to all intents and purposes look like I have it together…there are days where things hit me. The day I signed separation papers was horrid. The hardest signature I’ve ever had to write. Today, I lost it again…because I’m dealing with some discipline and behavioural issues with my son, and y’all, it just sucks, you know? That on top of All Of The Things.
In spite of, and despite all of this….God is still God and God is still good. Always. Through all of this storm I’m in, my constant is God and faith. I honestly do not know how people go through grief without God. God is providing for me…He’s provided so much, not just materially, but in those “I was thinking of you and wanted to make sure you were doing okay…can we meet for a coffee?” kind of things. Or someone sending me a much needed booster of an email at “just the right moment.” My kids, for the most part are doing well…and we are developing a closer and better relationship through this. That part, I love. But….there are times, sometimes at church when I see an older couple holding hands during a song, or when I’m walking in a grocery store and pass something that I used to get for Mr., etc., it just hits me…or I smell his cologne, or hear a song in the mall, and it just hits me. Not as much or as strong as at the start….but it does nonetheless.
For anyone reading this going through a divorce or separation, I would encourage you (or if you know someone, recommend this) finding a DivorceCare group in your area. Seriously? the best 13 one night/week I’ve ever spent…made some new friends…and developed my faith.
Thanks, Sheila. This was just great.
Hi Anne,
Thank you so much for commenting and sharing your heartbreaking story. I wish I could make it all better. How horrid. How absolutely horrid. I’m so glad that you’ve got good support around you, though, and so glad that you can see yourself marching forward. But it is hard–absolutely no doubt about it.
Totally not the same, but…my sister returned to her husband after learning he had been cheating on her with multiple women for their 5 year marriage after she tested positive for an STD. I cannot comprehend her reasoning and really struggle having any sort of relationship with her since she chooses this self-depricating and co-dependent lifestyle. I was coming to grips with forgiveness but he has since taken actions that have completely removed my trust of him. I feel like I have lost my sister. I didn’t even speak with her at Christmas. Most days I am fine, but when the house is quiet, I think about her and grieve.
Oh, Sarah, that’s such a SAD form of grief! I’m so sorry. I pray that your sister will do what she needs to do to get healthy.
Sheila, I followed the link to your article on Facebook today. I think God led me to your article, and He knew that I needed to read it. I lost my Mom in January 2014, and lost my husband four and a half weeks ago. Because my husband was already sick when my Mom passed away, I never allowed myself to grieve for her, because my husband needed me. So since my husband passed away, I am grieving double! I find myself a widow at 59, and the grief is overwhelming. My grief has manifested itself in physical ways, and I realize now that if I try to suppress it, it’s going to come out somehow!! Like you, I find comfort in knowing that I will see them again in Heaven — but the pain is still horrible and crippling at times. Joel Osteen is clueless. He must not have ever faced the loss of a close loved one, or he would not be so cavalier and callous in his remarks. Unless you have traveled this road, you don’t understand, can’t possibly understand, what it’s like. I am so very sorry for the loss of your precious baby. I know that he is waiting for you in Heaven and you will be reunited one glorious day, as we all will!! Thank you for your insight, it is beautiful and healing to those of us who grieve also.
Thank you so much about the article on grief.
Helped me to understand why certain things set me off crying about the loss of my husband one year ago this Thanksgiving… Finding out that Holidays and Birthdays we celebrated seem to be the hardest to coop with now… The Grief does come in waves and sometimes soooooo over whelming… Always ask for Gods help in guidance, strength and comfort…. God Bless!
My word picture for grief is a bit different, but the same thing too.
Imagine you live in an oil painting, you know the kind with big thick layers of paint. Well each person in your life is a color. And when they die that color paint is just gouged out of your painting. And all that is left is ragged raw canvas! But in your pocket you have crayons of that same color. These are your memories of the lost loved one. So when you encounter those raw spots of grief you dig out a memory and color over the spot. With time the gouged out spots are no longer raw canvas but they are still there. Your memories cover the canvas but can not compete with the real person. Even years later I find spots that were the color of my lost one and if they ae new spots they stand out so raw and ragged and painful. Crayon is no substitute for oil paint but it does help soothe the raw.
I love that! It’s so accurate.
Thanks so much for this article. I had a good lesson in how you don’t ‘get over’ grief when I talked with my 90-year-old grandfather a few years ago. His beloved older brother was shot down in his plane during WWII and my grandfather, talking about him, had tears in his eyes. Somehow I wouldn’t have imagined that after 70-odd years the loss would still bring him to tears, but it did. I guess that’s the way God made us – to have deep relationships with people and be hurt when they are broken.