Not long ago I had two very good friends ask how people could best walk with us in our new, unwanted reality. One answer came to me several days later during a conversation I had with Ray.
The great grief of losing children seems to be pretty unpredictable to me. I'm up, I'm down, I'm (in the words of Matthew McConaughey) "like a frickin' one woman circus" (name that movie).
People who know me, probably know I have not been gifted in the art of masking emotions. I am who I am and feel how I feel and I rarely, if ever, have the ability to hide that. I'd be a horrible Brit and find myself deeply envious of those who have this masking talent. Possessing this gift would make being a pastor's wife so much easier y'all. What I would give to be able to plaster a smile on my face, say "I'm good," and have people believe it! Seriously - jealous of all the masker-masters out there.
One thing I find hope in, concerning grief, is that there isn't a rubric on how to grieve. Yes, of course there are the dangerous, unhealthy and/or unhelpful ways to grieve, but for the most part - it is how it is and goes how it goes. No wrong way or wrong time - it just is.
I'm learning, everyday, how to grieve. What's good for me may not be good for my husband or sister or friend. It's different for everyone - everyday.
As I learn how to walk this road, many of you learning how to walk it with me (us).
So - how can we best walk this road together? I've had a few thoughts on the matter.
Our own Grief 101 class.
We can learn together.
The Question
It's one of the most difficult moments to navigate - for many reasons.
Who's asking the question? What kind of relationship do I have with him/her? Do I have time or energy to be honest? And then the worst internal dialogue of all "Oh no, what is the answer to the question?"
You know the question - the simple question that Ray and I have discovered is nearly impossible to answer.
"How are you doing?"
The four most difficult words to, at this point, try and form an answer to.
First of all - which Sarah am I in this encounter?
Numb Sarah is probably fine. Numb to world and going through the motions - so probably not an awkward or uncomfortable encounter there. Whoo - safe.
Sassy Sarah (also known as angry, anxious, or depressed Sarah) just wants to fight. Fight with the world, fight with an inanimate object. Heck - sassy Sarah wants to join a MMA gym and beat the junk out of something or someone. Forget flighting - sassy Sarah just wants to fight. This is the most frightening mood to be in when receiving the question. Poor, unsuspecting person who just wants to love on me but everything inside me is screaming "my girls are GONE - how do you think I'm doing?!!" These moments are the most difficult for me as I awkwardly stumble around for a kind and appropriate response.
Genuinely OK Sarah - Will probably smile, shrug, and say "I'm OK today."
"So, Sarah, what am I supposed to follow 'Hello' with?"
Great question, my friends, great question.
It depends on the depth of our relationship and how brave you are :)
Sticking with "it's good to see you," and a hug is wonderful. We never tire of hearing you're still praying for us. We need it, friends. Or just celebrate that we chose to get out of bed, get dressed, and keep living that particular day. It sounds comical, and we'd probably respond with a laugh, but let's be honest - some days making those three choices is a huge victory.
Want to talk about Maggie and Ellen? FANTASTIC! So do we! They are our children. We are proud of them and love them dearly.
We created identical twin girls.
That. is. incredible.
Maggie and Ellen were beautiful and precious and we love to talk about them. Don't fear that speaking their precious names will suddenly remind us they are gone and make us sad. Their absence isn't something we ever forget and the sadness comes when people are frightened of saying their names, not when they do.
Grief. It's unpredictable. We will continue learning how to walk this road together. Grace for me. Grace for you. All the while deeply thankful that even in grief, our God is with us. Emmanuel.
1 comment:
"Maggie and Ellen were beautiful and precious and we love to talk about them. Don't fear that speaking their precious names will suddenly remind us they are gone and make us sad. Their absence isn't something we ever forget and the sadness comes when people are frightened of saying their names, not when they do."
So much truth here. We lost our son Elliott this summer at nearly 36 weeks gestation. The hurt is there, but it feels magnified to me when his existence, short though it was, is ignored. Thank you for the truths that you have shared here. My prayers for you as you grieve the loss of your daughters, especially during this holiday season.
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