Grief a new walk
 

Confront your grief and you'll take away its power. I don't remember where I heard it, but I believe it to be true.

I do recall that Billy Graham said grief is like going through a tunnel and sometimes we wonder if we'll come out at the end. One thing God does for comfort is remind us of the hope we have in heaven.

Grief can get loud. Don't speak over it is a great message from "Did You Ever Have a Family?"

You sometimes feel after a death experience that you’re talking a foreign language, said a woman whose daughter died. “You feel like there’s no way anybody can know what you’re feeling. There is absolutely no way anyone can know the depth of your pain. So you feel like it’s futile to talk about it because words can’t express the pain.”

Remember a person dies once when he stops breathing and a second time when somebody mentions his name for the last time. That's why the names of a million fallen are spoken out loud, to make sure they don't have to die a second time.  That is the Wreaths Across America message.

You may have lost your companion, encourager, entertainer, source of delight, breadwinner, the one who knows you so well, the shoulder on which you cry, the arms that embrace and comfort you, the one who always cheers you, your pride and joy.

When her husband died, a lady said no one was there to call her beautiful.  She got new glasses and used his frames and finally looked in the mirror. She liked her face. She was looking at it through his eyes.

Priorities shift after loss, says Joe Biden. You may never get to 10, but rate that you made it to a four and that you can again. Some days you do get knocked back some, said a teacher in Moore, Okla., affected by the tornado. The wheel will never turn the same, said a man whose son was killed by an illegal immigrant.

People say death is grueling, shattering, frozen. Everything seems mechanical. They are unable to find solid ground--like being on a trampoline. The art of losing is hard to master, but here is what some people have done:

Chandra Levy's mother said you transcend by helping others.

The loss of a child will always bring you tears, but the joy of having known them lasts forever. One mother said she had to wake up at 8 a.m. to get ready by noon. God knew what it was like to lose a child; he understands grief. He can lead you through it.

"Go, mommy, go," a mother hears from her 2-year-old son in heaven to restore her city and build a park named after him. --From a Steve Hartman story

The day after a family's son died from a nut allergy, they set up the Red Sneaker Foundation. They’re trying to raise awareness to food allergies and get legislation passed requiring large labels on any food package that may contain nuts.

Kimberly Schlapman of Little Big Town forgave the drunk driver who killed her brother-in-law. She and her husband launched a non-profit to deliver teddy bears and dogwood trees — Allen Schlapman's favorite kind of tree — to children in Tennessee who lose a parent.The Dogwood Project also gives surviving parents recommendations for grief counselors for their kids.

When Pastor Rick and Kay Warren lost their son, she didn't open Christmas cards until much later. Ones didn't mention their grief, ones did a "praying for you" and some included loving, soothing, thoughtful words. Sadly, the third stack was the smallest.

The show must go on. Celine Dion

New Orleans does Second Lines, a procession as a sign of esteem.

The wife of Monty Williams, assistant Thunder coach, died in a car wreck. We didn't lose her, he said. "I know where she is." And she is pain free, whole and happy. Adopt his attitude.

One person used a baby boy name password she lost in utero to "keep him alive."  Name your miscarried baby instead of referring to him as "the baby we lost."

What you leave behind is not what is engraved on stone monuments, but what is woven into the lives of others. Pericles

Natalie Wood's daughter said everything in your life is there to teach you something; you can be awake to it or asleep to it. When the monsters are coming, you have to let them eat cake. Feed them. They more you invite them in, the less scary they become.

Rainer Maria Rilke poem: Let everything happen to you. Beauty and terror. Just keep going. No feeling is final. When you lose a parent, you just want to find ways to keep them close.

A person never really becomes a grownup until he loses both his parents. You just don't wallow in death; you move on. John F. Kennedy Jr.

Andrea Yates' husband said he would not let the drowning events steal the joy of knowing his children the short time he did.

Winston Churchill believed this. The prime minister planned his own funeral. Two buglers were positioned in the dome of St. Paul’s Cathedral. At the conclusion of the service, the first played TAPS, the signal of a day completed. The second played Reveille, the song of a day begun. Death is no pit, but a passageway, a corner turn.

The death of the person you love requires soul work. She was never mine. She's God's. I don't want to take heaven away from her. --Sandy Hook parent on the "700 Club"

Life will never be the same, but you won't always feel like you do right now. --Chaplain to Tony Dungy on his son's death

A boy with Asperger's hugged his grandmother on a loss she had and said,  "Everyone thinks I'm comforting you, but really I need comforting."

The wife of Paul Kalanithi said that as a child, she was always told that a grave should be stepped around, not onto, that only flowers should touch it. With Paul, the rules reversed. Just as it felt right to lie with him, finally restful on that spring afternoon a few weeks after his death, it feels right to bring friends there now, to watch the sunset and pour a beer out for him. And it feels right for our bright-eyed 1-year-old daughter to crawl among the flowers placed on the grave. They are making this place theirs, and his. He was a neurosurgeon who died from lung cancer at 36. In the funeral procession, his wife said she couldn't take his hand, but guided him so he would not go alone. For several months, she slept with her head on the pillow he had died on, left his medications in their drawer, wore his clothes to bed. Months after his death, she goes and sits at his grave, absent-mindedly stroking the grass as if it were his hair, talking to him using nicknames only he would understand.

One man, after a death in the family, kept working hard and doing marathons. He took a meditation class and broke down. It was the first time he was still other than sleeping. Trauma demands acknowledgement and respect. He could not maintain that grueling pace. Knowing that everything is tenuous and the only thing over which you have control is your own reaction is a gift.

A friend's Facebook said, As for grief, you’ll find it comes in waves. When the ship is first wrecked, you’re drowning, with wreckage all around you. Everything floating around you reminds you of the beauty and the magnificence of the ship that was, and is no more. And all you can do is float. You find some piece of the wreckage and you hang on for a while. Maybe it’s some physical thing. Maybe it’s a happy memory or a photograph. In the beginning, the waves are 100 feet tall and crash over you without mercy. They come 10 seconds apart and don’t even give you time to catch your breath. All you can do is hang on and float. After a while, maybe weeks, maybe months, you’ll find the waves are still 100 feet tall, but they come further apart. When they come, they still crash all over you and wipe you out. But in between, you can breathe, you can function. You never know what’s going to trigger the grief. It might be a song, a picture, a street intersection, the smell of a cup of coffee. It can be just about anything…and the wave comes crashing. But in between waves, there is life.

Another lady said 11 days before the anniversary of her husband's death, she broke down crying to a friend while sitting on a bathroom floor. She said, “Eleven days. One year ago, he had 11 days left. And we had no idea.” We looked at each other through tears, and asked how we would live if we knew we had 11 days left.  It is the greatest irony of my life that losing my husband helped me find deeper gratitude — gratitude for the kindness of my friends, the love of my family, the laughter of my children. My hope for you is that you can find that gratitude — not just on the good days, but on the hard ones, when you will really need it. And when the challenges come, I hope you remember that anchored deep within you is the ability to learn and grow. You are not born with a fixed amount of resilience. Like a muscle, you can build it up, draw on it when you need it. In that process you will figure out who you really are — and you just might become the very best version of yourself.

A lady who does needlepoint learned that you start with the darkest yarn and work to the lightest because the piece stays cleaner if you put the pale in first.  She realized she emerged into the light, too.

A woman needed some honey because she couldn't find hers. She bought some in a big-box store. Then she found her own  jar. Then she gave a speech and honey was her gift. Then she had lunch with an acquaintance, not knowing he was a beekeeper and he gave her some. She read that honey is a symbol of God's blessing and abundance. After months of grieving her son, it was as if God placed his loving arms around her and promised blessings beyond measure.

Try to reminiscence. Audit your own grief experience from time to time. What is the State of My Union? can be asked in January.

Things You Can Do, Suggest or Mention To Help the Grieving When They May Not Enjoy Sleigh Bells Ringing and Lights Twinkling:

If you have experienced miscarriage, divorce, grief, abuse or a financial crisis, could it be that God is calling you to step out and encourage others who are going through those things today? You are proof that life goes on. You are a carrier of hope. Sometimes it is sitting silent alongside a person. The important thing is to show up.

Have a sanctuary with photos that will help meet six needs--acknowledge reality, embrace the pain, remember the person, develop a new identity, search for meaning, receive ongoing support from others.

Camp Hometown Heroes has a balloon release. A boy named Alejandro releases a letter and photo in a balloon to his murdered father on his birthday and the anniversary of his death to keep him alive in his memory.

Murdered Dylan Poche's family finds healing through rock tossing.

LSU's Colby Delahoussaye plays for Sam and Mike, who did not survive the same wreck. Their names are written on his shoes.

Love now before you get a Facebook memory reminder. Invest in a concert or class together.

One man lights up his house for the "Christmas Light Fight" in honor of his wife who died in 9/11.

Look who you still have, says Beth Moore.

Babyface got out of his comfort zone on "Dancing with the Stars" and said his deceased mother would be proud of him.

Sheryl Sandburg writes down three things that gave her joy every night. Finding gratitude and appreciation is key to resilience. People who take the time to list things they are grateful for are happier and healthier. It turns out that counting your blessings can actually increase your blessings. This simple practice has changed her life. Because no matter what happens each day, she goes to sleep thinking of something cheerful.

A father wrote a letter to his son. You are far better than even the Connor I dreamt about. We must let go of the life we have planned so as to accept the one that is waiting for us.

The grandmother of an Orlando victim was on a plane and someone passed a piece of paper for everyone to sign to console her.

Finish a marathon in all 50 states, run the Great Wall of China Marathon, write a book. That's how one woman found her footing. I found myself again, the Linda I like to be, she said.  You are going to fall. Get back up with bloodied knees and carry on. Stop waiting for life to happen. Staying in the harbor is safe, but there is no life in that. Life is meant to be loved and celebrated. The Great Wall was steep, uneven, dangerous and difficult. Keep your head in the game and focus on the step in front of you. In spite of stumbles, she completed the journey. Force yourself out of the house and onto the course every day.  You may feel like you simply no longer fit in your world. I had no idea where I'd land. Sweep out the cobwebs in your mind by reflecting on what you have learned about life, love and loss.

Arizona Rep. Martha McSally's dad died from a heart attack during a beach vacation when she was 12.  She was consumed by anger, yet equally driven. "I wanted to make my dad proud," she said. She went to the Air Force Academy.

And I love this from Guideposts about a father/son walk. The son says he always has his father's voice in his heart. He knows what to do even if he doesn't. The father was not always right, but never wrong. He said his parents did a good job. He feels his mother's hand when he is hurting or scared or confused.  They were his compass.

Denmark and Sweden find comfort and revitalization in opening a window for that certain loved one after he has died. It’s a gesture of letting go, but also letting in; bringing in the fresh air from the outside world and the promise of another day.

Read "The Fall of Freddie the Leaf: A Story Of Life For All Ages."

In "My Mother's Kitchen," the author writes a chapter on grief and food. Don't compound grief with hunger. She offers a comfort food for a dear friend's larder.

I kind of wanted to be a florist after reading a story in "Reader's Digest."  She spoke of the man who handed out three flowers to strangers every Tuesday.  She had a boyfriend commit suicide. People sent cards. She doesn't remember what they wrote, only gestures. For her, it came down to the word GONE.  She wrote letters and set them on fire, saw a therapist and went to yoga.

Meditate--you are cultivating the quality of equanimity--a steady and calm mind. Pull the weeds and plant new seeds. Make an intention--to be more peaceful, cultivate self-compassion, reset your anxious mind. Locate the place in your body where you feel your breath rising and falling or where you feel it moving in and out. Exaggerate the next five rounds so that it is bigger and more expansive. What did you learn about yourself? How does it relate to your grief? To the rest of your life? Is there anything you want to change? Nurture? Be aware of? Spend the rest of the day being kind to yourself. Start with five minutes of seated meditation. Work up to 20 minutes a day. Take 15 seconds to gaze at the sky as if you are looking at it for the first time. --Heather Stang

Don't forswear entertainment.

Realize there will be insensitive people. Sympathy is two hearts tugging at one load, but it doesn't always occur. You are going to find that a lot of people suck, honestly. They are wrapped up their own lives, or never experienced a loss, so some may be insensitive. You will find who your friends are. In the "Hand That Rocks the Cradle," a man named Solomon has the task of building a fence for a family. He asks the matriarch if he should build the fence to keep people in or keep people out. Which do you choose?

Attending a funeral opens fresh wounds and requires composure. Consider it as shared grief, no more or less than yours.

Maybe you'd rather remember the deceased on his birthday or anniversary and send a picture or note to the survivor. A man was buried in a mound of grief over his late wife. A random hug of a little girl in the grocery store ended up becoming weekly visits. It changed his life.

There are parts of our grief we can use and parts we can't. Things that cannot be processed or that do not feed our spirits must be discarded. What fuels us forward is the harvest of our grief work. This is the process of threshing.  There are parts that haunt us all. For some, it's the last conversation, fight, childhood argument. Maybe you regret impatience, missed moments or just how sick they were. Perhaps you regret denial, trying to be strong and hiding your feelings. Possibly you fixate on a small way you let your loved one down. Maybe you are angry at stolen futures. Start to think what you can gather, release, prepare yourself for seasons of growth. Clear a swath of land for yourself. Allow yourself to see the promise there. You will grow again. Combining is reaping, threshing and sorting into one action. --From a TAPS magazine story

Grief may not be something you can ever complete. But you can’t go back. You can’t stay here. You must go forward, one foot in front of the other until you feel the sunshine again.

There is hope for the helpless

Rest for the weary

Love for the broken heart

There is grace and forgiveness

Mercy and healing

Jesus will meet you wherever you are.

--"Cry Out to Jesus" song