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It’s oh, so hard to know what to do when you are watching a heart break.
You want to reach out and make it better, make the pain go away, make a difference. But it seems like nothing you can do will matter much in the face of such a huge loss.
While it’s true that you cannot “fix” the brokenness in a bereaved parent’s life, there are some very important and practical ways you can support them in their grief-especially as the weeks turn into months and then to years.
Here are five practical ways to support grieving parents:
- Remember anniversaries and birthdays. Take note of the date our child left this life, his or her birthday, the day of the funeral-trust me, you aren’t reminding us of anything-we cannot forget! When someone else shares that they remember too it is so, so encouraging. It means my child is not forgotten, that he still matters to another heart and that someone else recognizes that the world lost a treasure.
- Keep showing up. Keep inviting me to lunch. I may have turned you down a dozen times in the first few months, but that was because I just. couldn’t. do. it. As my heart begins to comprehend my loss, compassionate companionship sounds more inviting. I need to talk, but it may take me awhile before I am able to do it. Please don’t give up-keep trying.
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Five Practical Ways to Support a Grieving Parent
Five Practical Ways to Support a Grieving Parent
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My father died suddenly while on vacation three years ago. The event rattled the bedrock of my life in ways that are difficult to describe, and taught me lessons I couldn’t have learned any other way.
One of the truths I discovered, is that when you lose someone you love—people show up.
Almost immediately they surround you with social media condolences and texts and visits and meals and flowers. They come with good hearts, with genuine compassion, and they truly want to support you in those moments. The problem, is that you’re neither prepared nor particularly helped by the volume then.
The early days of grief are a hazy, dizzying, moment by moment response to a trauma that your mind simply can’t wrap itself around. You are, what I like to call a Grief Zombie; outwardly moving but barely there. You aren’t really functioning normally by any reasonable measurement, and so that huge crush of people is like diverting thousands of cars into a one lane back road—it all overwhelms the system. You can’t absorb it all. Often it actually hurts.
This usually happens until the day of the funeral, when almost immediately the flood of support begins to subside. Over the coming days the calls and visits gradually become less frequent as people begin to return to their normal lives already in progress—right about the time the bottom drops out for you.
Just as the shock begins to wear off and the haze is lifted and you start to feel the full gravity of the loss; just as you get a clear look at the massive crater in your heart—you find yourself alone.
People don’t leave you because they’re callous or unconcerned, they’re just unaware. Most people understand grief as an event, not as the permanent alteration to life that it is, and so they stay up until the funeral and imagine that when the service ends, that somehow you too can move ahead; that there is some finishing to your mourning.
That’s the thing about grief that you learn as you grieve: that it has no shelf life; that you will grieve as long as you breathe, which is far after the memorial service and long after most people are prepared to stay. Again, they still love you dearly, they just have their own roads to walk.
Sometimes people leave because they suddenly feel estranged by the death. They may have been used to knowing you as part of a couple or as a family, and they aren’t able to navigate the new dynamic the loss has created. They simply don’t know how to relate to you the way they once did, and so they withdraw.
Or sometimes people see you from a distance and mistake your visible stability for the absence of need, as if the fact that you’re functioning in public doesn’t mean you don’t fall apart all the time when you’re alone—and you do. We all carry the grief as bravely and competently as we can in public, but none of us are strong enough to shoulder it alone. People often say of a grieving person, “They’re so strong”, but they’re not. They’re doing what they have to in order to survive. They need you to come alongside them.
Other times people avoid you because they believe that they will say the wrong thing; that somehow they will remind you of your loved one and cause you unnecessary pain. Trust me, the grieving don’t lack for reminders. They are intimately aware of the absence in their lives, and you acknowledging it actually makes them feel better. It gives them consent to live with the grief, and to know that they can be both wounded and normal.
Friends, what I’m saying is that it’s wonderful to be present for people when tragedy occurs. It’s a beautiful thing to express your love and support for those you love in any way you feel is right in those first few days. It does matter. No compassion is ever wasted.
But if there’s anything I would tell you, as someone who’s walked through the Grief Valley, is that the time your presence is most needed and most powerful, is in those days and weeks and months and years after the funeral; when most people have withdrawn and the road is most isolating. It is in the countless ordinary moments that follow, when grief sucker punches you and you again feel it all fully.
It’s three years since I lost my father, and on many days the pain is as present and profound as that first day.
Remind yourself to reach out to people long after the services and memorials have concluded.
Death is a date in the calendar, but grief is the calendar.
Timeline suggestions for practical things to do to help grievers;
Every circumstance is different when people experience loss. Each individual grieves differently. Some people spread their mourning process out over a long period of time while others seem to be very concerted in their grief. Generally speaking, there seems to be similar patterns in the process that can help us understand what to do at different times to be helpful.
The following schedule is the one I tended to follow during my grieving process for both my wives. In no way am I implying everyone should follow this exact pattern, but my journey can serve as a working example of loss.
The day each of my wives died I was fortunate to have friends or family present. I can’t imagine not having them there. My wives’ deaths left me so numb that I could not even think straight for a while. Having someone there, even if they said nothing, helped me function. They took care of the daily logistics of physical things like meals, cleaning, and decisions that needed immediate attention.
Don’t wait or even expect someone to ask for your help at the death of their loved one. They may not be able to even make that simple of a decision. Seek out ways to help by visiting or calling.
THE FIRST WEEK
This time period gets foggy for many grievers. The possible decisions required can be overwhelming. Everything from finding a funeral home to choosing a casket to planning and executing a funeral become monumental things to deal with — and that on top of grief. This week can be very stressful for the individual as well as the family. Even the best of families can have conflict over some of the details that are required at this time. Many of these things are often handled by the family members nearby, but sometimes that is not the case.
Making yourself available to help with the planning for the events of this week can be a first step. Because grievers often have trouble thinking clearly, gentle suggestions as to things that need to be handled and an offer to help can be in order. The little details such as transporting flowers from the memorial service to the cemetery can be on your list of offers to help. Meals for the bereaved and their guests are often a huge blessing during this week. If there is a funeral or memorial service, make every effort to be there. A phone call every couple of days is often appreciated to remind the bereaved that they are not alone in their pain.
Phone calls, sympathy cards and references to my wives took a noticeable decline at about the third week. It seemed like someone made a public announcement and the whole world said, “That’s it. We will forget her now.”
For me, however, the opposite was happening. The numbness had subsided enough that the reality of her absence was finally reaching my foggy brain. I was permanently alone again now. My need to talk about the whole event increased instead of reduced. My deep emotional sobbing sessions had gone from three times a day to one or two. My mind needed to process what my emotions had seemingly been responding to. I needed to talk about her death more than ever. I remember thinking that I would have given anything to have someone ask me, “How did your wife die? Tell me about it.”
Many people would ask me, “How are you doing?” I would answer, “Fine.” However, the ones that helped me the most would be more specific with, “How has this week been?” or “Tell me where you are in your journey or recovery process.”
I remember being stricken with the fear that everyone would forget her. I was clinging to memories of her, but it seemed everyone else was forgetting. So, I did things to ensure a recorded legacy for each of my wives. For Ruth, I wrote an article for a Christian magazine about her life and got it published. For Judith, I asked my two daughters to each put together a photo book about her. One was a legacy book with pictures and information about her family. All eight of my kids’ families were given a copy. The other was a “grandma” book of pictures of Judith and each of the grandkids, one kid per page. Each grandchild received a copy for Christmas that year.
A face-to-face, or at least a phone call, with the intent to talk a couple of hours about the loved one’s death and the grieving process experienced by the bereaved should be offered. Avoid general statements when arranging this. Be specific with, “I would like to hear the details of how you are processing your pain and your recovery.”
Three months from my wives’ deaths the grieving process seemed to release its grip on my emotions. I began to laugh again. I found myself more at ease in public alone. My sobbing sessions had subsided to one every other day. Still, from time to time I had to audibly tell myself that she really did die. The truth continued to sink in. However, I still hurt and felt like I had this visible “hole in my soul” as I lived life. I craved communication, intimacy with an adult, someone to talk to about my feelings. At this point, logic statements began to help more than just the heart comments that I needed before.
Long talks about my grieving process were harder to come by as most of my friends were expecting me to be “getting over it” by now. Finding someone who understood and would not “think ill” of me became harder to do. I set out to relieve this need by talking to other men who had lost a wife in recent years. That helped.
Your relationship with a bereaved friend may not be close enough for you to have conversations about “how are you feeling these days?” However, you could encourage them to have such a conversation with someone they know who would listen. Talking through one’s process and progress can be a big step for them to realize and embrace the steps they have taken towards healing.
A card of encouragement to a bereaved person can assure them that you have not forgotten their pain and are supporting them in their progress towards victory. It can be an aid in helping them cope with their loneliness as well.
I thought I was going crazy. It had been six months since my wife’s death and many days I still felt as hollow and uncertain emotionally as I did the first month after she left. What is wrong with me? I mused. Everyone thinks I am doing so well outwardly, but I still feel like something is missing on the inside.
For me, the six month stage was kind of like the “teenage years” in my mourning process. I didn’t feel quite like I was out of the woods (i.e. an adult) but I had progressed past the seemingly out-of-control emotional times (i.e. childhood) I experienced for so many months. My sobbing sessions were measured by the week instead of per day, and my interest in my future had increased.
At this stage I still had the need to talk to people who would be comfortable with me sharing deep feelings and with people who had been there, done that. One man I had such a talk with told me later that it was a bit uncomfortable for him, but it sure helped me. Another one stopped listening to me after a few minutes. So it obviously takes a special person to fill this bill.
Though I realized both my mental and emotional states were nearing a more victorious place of healing, “relapses” back to the ache stage were common. Assurances that my time in this “in-between” stage of the grieving process was normal would have been great comfort. If someone close to me had “given permission” for me to address the ache that came back periodically, I believe I would have been relieved of some guilt.
During my grieving experiences with my wives at this six-month time period, people “told” me that I was very vulnerable emotionally. My response was bewilderment and even anger. I don’t feel emotionally vulnerable, I thought. And besides, how do they know how I am emotionally? They haven’t even talked to me about it.
Caring words of caution from a trusted friend would have been more effective than a casual acquaintance making a judgment from a distance. It’s important to honestly assess one’s level of relationship with the griever.
The truth is that I really was still emotionally vulnerable. I am thankful to God that I did not make any emotional decisions that I would have regretted later. I would not see that truth for another three months. At the nine-month period, when I looked back at how I was feeling in comparison, I realized that my emotional state had improved and I felt “more like myself.” The possible decisions I could have made during the most tumultuous grieving, both socially and in my career, would not have lined up with my lifetime personal core values.
Much counsel has been given in our culture to not make any major decisions for twelve months following losing a spouse. In many ways, I see the wisdom for that. It provides opportunity to go through one cycle of life dealing with all the “firsts” after losing a mate. For the griever, time is your friend. In the case for both my wives’ deaths, I had grieved in a very concerted fashion. I had “leaned into” my pain and embraced grieving willingly. Not everyone does that, I guess.
For me, the ninth month of grieving was a turning point. I finally felt very secure socially. I felt like my emotions were more “normal.” Remembering my wives did not cause pain or emptiness. I even enjoyed it when friends teased me about finding another wife sometime. I considered re-marriage more seriously.
This stage varies with people, for sure. I have known of some men who were at this point after six months of grieving, while some women I have met have admitted it wasn’t until the eighteen-month time frame that they were open to give their hearts away again in romance.
BIRTHDAYS, ANNIVERSARIES, HOLIDAYS
Among the important “firsts” grievers go through are the first holidays. For some these times can be nearly as difficult to experience as the day the loved one died. Cards, phone calls and even invitations to do something special can be put on your schedule on behalf of the bereaved person.
The first Christmas after Ruth died my family and I appreciated an invitation by a friend to spend the potentially difficult holiday in a location we had never been to before. The first Christmas after Judith died I responded to an invitation to attend a community-wide potluck dinner and thoroughly enjoyed myself.
Remembering wedding and death anniversaries with a card, phone call or visit can help the bereaved cope with the day because someone besides them remembered. They feel less lonely due to the fact you shared it with them. Even responding in some way at the deceased’s birthday can have the same effect.
The one-year mark for grievers tends to carry an uncertainty with it. How will they feel the day of the anniversary of their loved one’s death? Will anyone else remember? What should they do that day to commemorate their loved one, if anything? You can come alongside to help with many of these questions.
Be mindful of the possibility that the anniversary can be a significant event for years to come. Many, not only rehearse about the one that they lost, but also the grief associated with that loss.
A phone call or card showing you remember your friend and their loved one will go a long way in bringing comfort. If possible, you can also do something physical with them. Take them out for coffee or dinner and talk about the life of the deceased. Going with them to visit the cemetery and bringing flowers in memory of their loved one will help establish a bit more closure and peace to the bereaved.
I have known of a few good friends and close relatives who have taken the effort to put some of the above suggestions on their yearly calendar and actually follow through with them. Believe me, if you don’t make yourself a note in some way you will most likely forget.
« Point to Ponder »
Knowing the right thing to say is only half of the responsibility of being a supportive emotional care giver. The other half revolves around the doing.
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How I found strength and wisdom to survive loss and do it well:
“I don’t know how you do it. You have lost two wives and you seem to be doing so well,” came the familiar statements. Following Judith’s death many people made similar comments to me. Some remarks came as simple observations while other people were genuinely seeking answers.
In this chapter I will be taking the liberty to lay out the thinking process and worldview I have developed in the course of my life and freely explain how that all affected my grieving process. My family background, personal experiences, logic, religious beliefs and the message of the Bible all come into play to determine how I approached and responded to tragedy. It has been my observation that most people default to these things when they hurt.
My earnest prayer is that the truths laid out will be a help to you as you face your own losses, and as you help those who come across your path who are hurting from loss.
It was a blessing from God and huge privilege to be born into a strong family who had a deep belief in God based on His Word, the Bible. I didn’t do anything special to be born where I was. However, the mindset, beliefs and teachings of my family and church were fundamental in establishing my worldview of life and death. The family heritage I acquired held to an established belief in the God of the Bible that went back several generations on both sides of my family. I not only heard the message of the Bible from my parents but from my grandparents and aunts and uncles as well.
So, if family and the geographical location in which one is born are vital in how one processes grief, why is it that not everyone who has these benefits processes grief well? Because included in the mix are the personal choices of each individual. Simply being exposed to a belief system, whether through family or by culture, is only the beginning. Your personal choices and convictions are what activate those teachings and messages.
The core truth of the Bible that my mom taught me revolved around God creating man to have a close relationship with Him. As the Creator of the universe, God chose to only have this personal relationship with mankind. Since God represents and is everything just and good, a relationship with Him had to revolve around what He is like. The first man created, Adam, broke that bond by doing something contrary to God. He disobeyed a command, consequently breaking the created relationship between God and mankind. Since He is everything just and good, God set forth a plan to fix the broken relationship. He promised this plan and then executed it by sending Jesus, His Son, to live a perfect life among men and women and then die, making the restoration of that relationship with God the Father possible. He decided it would be a gift to be received by faith. Anyone who rejected God’s plan through Jesus would spend eternity after they died separated from God.
My mom showed me places in the Bible that clearly explained this. Thankfully, she also made it clear that I was required to make a choice about God’s gift through Jesus for myself. She pointed out that my core relationship with God wasn’t broken just because I was a bad boy once in a while, but that I needed to respond to God’s message because I was born needing it. She read to me from the Bible, “Therefore, as through one man’s offense judgment came to all men, resulting in condemnation…” (Romans 5.18). Adam’s “offense” was passed on to every human born thereafter, making a personal response by each individual a requirement. Not believing in God’s plan for restoration seals the judgment. “He who believes in Him [Jesus] is not condemned; but he who does not believe is condemned already, because he has not believed in the name of the only begotten Son of God” (John 3.18).
As a child, I enjoyed Christmas as much as any other kid. We were humble economically and I remember times when there was only a single gift for each of us. However, Mom and my church teamed up to help me see a bigger picture. Christmas was the celebration of the coming of Jesus to earth in order to accomplish God’s plan to restore mankind to a right relationship with Him. I enjoyed hearing the stories of Jesus’ life in my Sunday school classes at church. They explained that the purpose for Jesus becoming a man was for Him to die for the wrongs things performed by all mankind. “… that Christ died for our sins according to the Scriptures, and that He was buried, and that He rose again the third day according to the Scriptures, and that He was seen of Cephas, then by the twelve” (1 Corinthians 15.3-5). We can know that God, in turn, accepted the work of Jesus’ death as payment for all our violations of God’s nature because He raised Him from the dead. “… God … promised before through His prophets in the Holy Scriptures, concerning His Son Jesus Christ our Lord, … and declared to be the Son of God with power according to the Spirit of holiness, by the resurrection from the dead” (Romans 1.1-4).
MY FIRST RESPONSE
My mom read the Bible to my brother and me every night she could before we went to bed. When I was seven years old, she told us one night that the Billy Graham Crusade was on TV and that if we were good while she read the Bible we could stay up a little longer and listen to the music part. Well, I wasn’t so good and was sent to bed. While my brother watched the music, I was in bed alone, thinking. Mom came in and found me crying. “I don’t want to go to hell when I die,” I blurted out through my tears. Mom reviewed again that all I needed to do was believe on Jesus for myself and God would restore my relationship with Him and that Jesus’ death and resurrection would pay for all my wrongs against Him. I did that. I knew from that time on that upon my physical death, I would spend all of eternity in the presence of God the Father. I would go to heaven.
The problem with the evil in my heart had been resolved before God, to be sure. It didn’t mean that I didn’t still blow it from time to time. Mom knew that for sure! However, she was faithful to continue to expand my knowledge about evil in the world we live in. She told me the story about Satan and how he rebelled against God. He was then confined to earth and now takes his vengeance out against God on mankind. He uses evil to resist God and God’s people. Teachers at church taught me that because I was one of God’s children, Satan would target me for harm and evil intentions. However, I don’t have to be defeated by him but be aware that sometimes when bad things happen it may be coming from him. I can win over his intentions with Jesus. “You are of God, little children, and have overcome them, because He who is in you is greater than he who is in the world” (I John 4.4). “Therefore submit to God. Resist the devil and he will flee from you. Draw near to God and He will draw near to you” (James 4.7,8).
My instruction about evil continued. Because of Satan’s rebellion against God and the disobedience of Adam to God’s commands, evil has a strong influence on the earth and the world as we know it. This evil curse affects all of God’s creation, including mankind. The negative things caused by evil include such things as weeds in my garden, weather that is destructive, immorality, murders, mistreatment of people, bad intentions and responses to one another, and disease. Until the day Jesus returns and corrects all of that, we can expect evil to continue. Evil, therefore, can happen to us simply because we are humans living in this world at this time. Bad things can happen to good people for no fault of their own.
My seven-year-old mind had a lot of questions about what it is really like to live one’s life and have a personal relationship with God. This is where my family and church friends came in again. I watched how they did it. The two people closest to me who demonstrated evidences of having a personal relationship with Jesus were my mom and her mother, my grandmother. Regardless of any character or personality flaws in them that I may have observed over the years as I grew up, those ladies proved to me that it was possible for Jesus to be a personal friend. When they talked about Jesus, I could tell He was not an abstract concept or a theory of religion. He was a real person to whom they talked and listened often.
My mom’s connection to God was consistent. She would go to Him during times of hurt, such as when my dad died or we had severe financial difficulties. She would sing to Him when she was happy in good times. Her example showed me that I could do that too. And I did.
My high school years were times of change for our family. Mom remarried and three more sisters were added to our family. The family blending process was not always an easy one for me, being the oldest child. We also moved, I went through puberty, and attended a high school in another town. I chose to remain consistent in following the Biblical mindset of God as the sovereign of the universe and Lord of my life through all these changes. Church was a core part of my life. I enjoyed hearing teaching from the Bible, singing songs and hymns about God, following Him, and looking forward to being with Him in heaven someday.
The summer between my junior and senior year presented me with another life-changing choice. I had been offered a scholarship to a leading agricultural university in Iowa. I knew I needed to pray about it, so after church one evening I stopped at a pasture near our farm buildings where I prayed often. God spoke back to me saying, “Follow Me.” He indicated that I was to prepare to officially be in a position to do things that would promote His message in the world. I said, “Yes.” The following week I received a catalog in the mail from a Bible college in Kansas City, Missouri. I chose to turn down the scholarship and applied to the Bible college instead. I knew that my life was being directed personally by God and I trusted Him.
My choices were made based on my friendship with Christ. I believed what He said in the Bible. “Greater love has no one than this, than to lay down one’s life for his friends. You are My friends if you do whatever I command you. No longer do I call you servants, for a servant does not know what his master is doing; but I have called you friends, for all things that I heard from My Father I have made known to you” (John 15.13-15).
My years studying at the Bible college were very formidable. As I increased in knowing what the Bible says and what it means, I developed a desire to know my Friend better. Trusting Jesus more and walking by faith became major personal goals. I aspired to the definition of faith in God that the Apostle Paul spoke about. “First, I thank my God through Jesus Christ for you all, that your faith is spoken of throughout the whole world” (Romans 1.8).
Soon, I began to realize that to “walk by faith” included more than just major choices. It involved how I went about my day-to-day living. Simple statements began having a deep impact on my approach to daily living. A quote of unknown origin I have never forgotten is, “If you were arrested for being a follower of Jesus, would there be enough evidence to convict you?” Jesus said, “And why do you call me, Lord, Lord, and not do the things which I say?” (Luke 6.46)
Based on my personal relationship with Jesus, faith and faithfulness became daily goals in my life. Though much of my daily life was laid out for me — class and work schedules, job responsibilities, class requirements and sleeping — I began to realize that I chose much of how I lived my life. I chose my responses to situations, my attitude towards people and circumstances; I chose how I spent my money, what social functions I attended and how well I used my discretionary time during waking hours. I began to see that my proper or improper response to errors and mistakes I made was based on whether I was responding out of faith in God or my selfish desires. Even though my learning curve seemed huge, I willingly climbed it towards a closer relationship with God.
LIFE GOES ON
Following my college years, life progressed somewhat “normally” (whatever that is). I got married, received a job assignment, had children, developed friendships, increased in responsibility both at work and home, and so on. My wife, Ruth, and I were on a “normal” course in life, building a career and raising a family of four. We practiced the lessons learned in trusting God and living in close relationship with Him in all areas of our life as best we could. We trusted Him in our finances, parenting, free time, friendships, job roles and church attendance. He was always faithful. We took to heart, “… whether you eat or drink, or whatever you do, do all to the glory of God” (1 Corinthians 10.31).
My reference to life being “normal” includes ups and downs in life that happen to all of us. It includes mistakes by each of us in our family. Disappointments that come financially, professionally and socially are all integral to our human experience.
Cancer is not what is usually considered normal. I have heard it said that “anyone can trust God when things are going good.” But do we really trust Him when it doesn’t seem like we need Him that much?
We had no clue to what depths the downward spiral would lead us when Ruth announced that she had found a lump and should make an appointment with an oncologist. The following weeks and months were full of challenges, hurts, disappointments and even low-level mourning.
The lump was an aggressive form of cancer. Treatments included surgeries, chemotherapy, radiation and constant testing.
Yet, our hope continued to be secure, based on our relationship with God. Though we desired the security of pain-free life, we trusted Him more. Believing that pain was a part of human experience and that we were not exempt from it helped us overcome the bouts of “why me?” and unfounded feelings of “being punished.”
Our friend Jesus never left us during our down times. We knew that because He said so. “For He Himself has said, ‘I will never leave you nor forsake you.’ So we may boldly say: The Lord is my helper; I will not fear. What can man do to me?” (Hebrews 13.5,6).
It was true that going through a crisis like cancer was a new thing for us. We had never experienced such a hard thing before. However, trusting Jesus in our lives was nothing new and so we kept doing that. We simply needed to learn how to go through this hard thing. Our pain and tears were always met with the comfort of our personal relationship with Jesus Himself.
Trusting God during our hard times did not keep us from sometimes struggling with our questions.
One afternoon following severe chemotherapy treatments, Ruth was on the phone with her mother. Ruth asked the “Why me?” question to her mom. Louise’s response was classic. “Well, Ruthie, why not you? Up to now your life has been pretty simple and pain free. Why do you think you should be exempt from hard situations and others not?” This, of course, agreed with what Jesus Himself said, “In the world you will have tribulation; but be of good cheer, I have overcome the world” (John 16.33).
Ruth was a nurse. She had seen many, many people in the hospitals she worked in going through all kinds of physical pain and sufferings. She knew that her mom was right about many other people experiencing physical crisis, of all ages and walks of life. It is all a part of living in this world that has so much influence from evil. Pain and suffering does seem to be a normal part of human experience. Each of us somehow hopes it won’t happen to us.
I had never seen anyone die before. Watching Ruth take her last breath was shocking. All I could think about was that she actually died! She was gone. My heart immediately began to hurt in ways I had never experienced before. Grief encompassed me, suffocating me.
My first response to God was again based on my relationship with Him up to that time. I called out to Him as a friend for help with my hurt. I did not lash out at Him as a distant tyrant in the sky who “did this to me.” He had helped me learn how to handle so many things in my life so far, I knew He would help me with this grief. And He did.
I would go to the Bible for words of assurance and comfort in times of hurt. Over the years, since I received so many encouraging messages from God’s Word, I knew I could count on my Friend to have words of comfort and purpose as well. I was not disappointed. “Blessed be the God and Father of our Lord Jesus Christ, the Father of mercies and God of all comfort, who comforts us in all our tribulations, that we may be able to comfort those who are in any trouble, with the comfort with which we ourselves are comforted by God” (2 Corinthians 1.3,4).
Ruth’s cancer and death were not a result of her sin, but a “normal” result of living in a world that is affected by the influence of sin. Just because we had a relationship with God on a spiritual level did not exempt us from the regular operation of nature and genetics. God simply has promised to help us through experiences in life. We trusted Him for a bigger picture.
We remembered the account in the Bible where Jesus was asked who had sinned, causing a man to be blind from birth. He replied, “Neither this man nor his parents sinned, but that the works of God should be revealed in him” (John 9.3). Jesus went on to heal that man that day.
Ruth’s death was not a defeat. She actually won. You see, she had the privilege of going to heaven into the very presence of God without the hassle of living here in a world influenced by evil for the next forty or so years. Even though I was left with the hole in my soul grieving, I had the privilege of seeing God use my loss to show others how He comforts in uncommon ways. A bigger purpose was realized. Many people have been helped in their journey through life in this evil world because of our story.
I remember one such example of this. A local pastor stopped me in a public elevator. He said, “I hope you didn’t mind me using you as an illustration in my sermon on Sunday.” I looked surprised but indicated that I was sure it was okay. He went on to explain. “I read your recent letter about your wife’s illness. I liked your perspective. My point to the congregation was to show how a follower of Jesus should handle pain and suffering based on a relationship with Christ. You have shown us how it’s done.” I was humbled.
Judith and I shared the same Biblical worldview. During our courtship time we spent hours reviewing our common experiences of going through the process of suffering and the death of our spouses. We both had learned how to deal with pain and death from God’s Word and our personal relationship with Jesus. We were on the same page.
Having a common worldview and relationship with Jesus was paramount in the development of our unity in dealing with the challenges of life we faced together in the twenty years that followed. Blending and finishing raising eight teenagers did indeed have challenges. Many times we had no place to turn to other than each other and God when times got tough.
Judith’s physical concerns during the last five years of her life left many questions in our minds, but none of them shook our trust in God’s leading and care. God had been so consistent in giving inner peace and direction to us in so many areas over the years, that we had no reason to question Him now. We were faithful to walk in the truth we came across whether it had to do with nutrition or spiritual dependency on God.
That day in the hospital when I told Judith she was going to die soon is etched in my memory. We held each other and sobbed deeply for a long time. We mourned her death together for several days. Our assurance of God’s leading, care and closeness did not eliminate our pain of impending loss. But it did provide a basis for how we faced the months ahead.
The weeks before Judith’s death provided many opportunities to talk to family and friends about her “home going” and how God factors in. Anyone talking to her during those weeks needed to be comfortable with the topic of life after death because she talked about it freely. Many people were helped with their viewpoint on Christians going to heaven and how to view that event by Judith’s conversations. I found a statement in Judith’s notes that reflected her attitude. “God can get just as much glory from a sick body as He can from a well one.”
Relief, instead of shock, crossed my mind at Judith’s death. She had suffered with a lot of pain at the end – and now her pain was over. But then an overwhelming grief hit me, producing uncontrollable sobbing. I hurt.
Prayer can play a huge part in the grieving process. Telling the bereaved that you are praying for them can be of great comfort. It was for me. My heart ached so bad at times that I found even praying difficult if not impossible. Comfort crept in as I remembered all the people who I knew were praying for me. God gave me added assurance that not only were these people praying for me, but they were praying on my behalf or literally in my place. This news increased my peace and freedom to embrace grief fully.
Following Ruth’s death I still had four kids at home to care for and I was still teaching at the college. My struggle with loneliness had to take a back seat many days, oftentimes showing up at night. However, after Judith’s memorial service I went home to an empty bed and an empty house. The phone stopped ringing because everyone knew she was gone. Visitors to the door dwindled to maybe a couple a week. I found myself wandering around the house only to find another empty room. The loneliness and silence was deafening. I had never experienced such aloneness before in my life.
Per my personal practice, I turned to God and His Word for some help and guidance. I begged God to show me how to cope with the stifling void.
His answer came to me from the Gospel of John in the Bible which I had also read following Ruth’s death. This record reveals points about the last weeks of Jesus’ time and teaching on earth before He went back to His Father in heaven. I began to see a pattern in the things He said to the Apostles. “Little children, I shall be with you a little longer” (13:33). “Where I am going you cannot follow Me now, but you shall follow Me afterward” (13:36). “I go to prepare a place for you” (14:2). “These things I have spoken to you while being present with you” (14:25). “But now I go away to Him who sent Me…” (16:5). Jesus was talking about His departure to heaven and leaving the disciples alone on earth. Everything He said in between these statements was instructions on how to deal with the loneliness.
LONELINESS INTO GODLINESS
I found a series of guidelines from Jesus Himself concerning things I could do to deal with and even take advantage of my loneliness. I noticed that Jesus did not instruct to simply sit around and “suck it up.” He proceeded with guidelines and commands that increased my relationship with God and literally helped me be more like Him.
His directives in the Gospel of John were basic but clear:
- Depend on one another (13:34)
- Stick with your core beliefs (14:1)
- Remember what you know about heaven (14:2)
- Don’t forget about My return (14:3)
- I am the Way to true life (14:4-6) Remember My words (14:10-12)
- You can have success (14:12)
- Pray (14:13-14)
- Obey My commands (14:15,21,23)
- The Holy Spirit will help you (14:16-18)
- Loneliness can help you (14:19,26)
- Embrace My peace (14:27)
- Give God glory (14:13; 16:14; 17:1,4)
- Keep close to Me (15:1-8)
Each of these items was significant to me. Some helped my thinking clear up. Others eased the torment of my emotions. I would need to write a chapter per item to explain all of them clearly. That will be left to be covered in another book and another time.
To illustrate, however, I will review number three: heaven. Jesus talked about it as if it was a real place He was going to and promised I could be there too someday. That reality reduced some of my fear of the unknown about where my loved ones were after death. It also gave me peace about my future since my death, someday, was as sure as their death. My mental worries about the “after-life” relaxed and my emotional concerns regarding my loved ones were soothed. Hence, my grief was processed more calmly.
To put my conclusion very bluntly, I know my worldview works because of my lifetime of experience based on God and His Word. It is with great confidence I can offer this information to you.
The fact that you have read all this till now indicates an interest on your part in the message I am communicating. I sincerely hope and pray that something I have said here can be a help to you. Also, if you do not currently have the right relationship with God I have referred to above, I would like to invite you to begin that now. “For God so loved the world [you] that He gave His only begotten Son, that whoever [you] believes in Him should not perish but have everlasting life. For God did not send His Son into the world to condemn the world, but that the world though Him might be saved” (John 3:16,17).
« Point to Ponder »
When you stand before God at your death and He asks you, “Why should I let you into My heaven?” what will be your answer?
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Many college graduates never work in the field of study in which they receive a degree. I am not among that group. I found a deep sense of fulfillment in finding a career about which I was passionate from the start. I served with a religious non-profit organization that was very team-oriented.
On one of our first encounters with the leadership of this group their deep heart-felt convictions and passion showed through. I remember turning to my wife, Ruth, and asking her, “So, do you think you could spend the rest of your life working with people like that?” Through her tears she mumbled, “Yes!”
Following our year-and-one-half of orientation and leadership training, we were assigned to a teaching and leadership position. The next eight years saw the addition of our four children and the privilege of working in partnership with other veteran leaders. The opportunity to become closely associated with new candidates who came through the training facility deepened our roots in the organization further than anything I had ever experienced in my life. Indeed, we became closer to many of our co-workers than we were with many family members.
My next assignment was to teach and serve as president at a junior-college-level training school in another state. We moved and quickly settled into our new roles there. With loyalty as one of my personal character strengths, my commitment to the job given to me ran deep. Our family life revolved around the work I did at the school.
Then tragedy struck. Cancer. During those seven years of battling cancer together as a family, I plowed through the personal stress it forced on me and whole-heartedly continued my roles at the school, only asking for breaks to take Ruth to her doctor appointments. I did this right up to the day she died.
Two years after Ruth’s death I married again. Judith and I each had four teenagers to bring into the marriage. The only issue our marriage created revolved around a policy of the organization that all members take a one-year orientation training like the one I taught at for my first eight years with them. Judith had not received this training before we were married.
This policy had been “law” with this organization since its inception. None of the leaders at that time had the freedom (nerve) to make exceptions. The “pink slip” came in the form of a decision that for us to continue with the group, we would have to resign from the school, move our family to another state and attend this training program as students — actions that were logistically impossible for our family. We were effectively OUT of the organization.
I remember that difficult day. One of the leaders came into my office and began with, “Dave, this is very hard for me to say.” My entire insides seemed to begin aching all at once. I was stunned, hurt and felt totally abandoned by people whom I thought to be my friends. My heart was so wounded I did not even say anything in my defense. I WAS OUT. I had not done anything wrong.
My strong sense of loyalty prevented me from showing my pain and rejection. I defended the leadership and stuffed my grief very deep. I never shed a tear. I simply wrestled with my grief in my soul and my thoughts.
Following the fulfillment of our responsibilities with that school we moved our family across the USA to begin a new life in a new community at a new job. I was working two jobs and blending eight teenagers. Needless to say, busyness often prevented time for reflection.
Judith was the only person who really knew I was a hurting guy. My kids noticed I had become more “quiet” at our meal table. A co-worker at the new school commented that I did not seem to be the leader/outgoing guy he would have expected from a former president of a college. My spirit was indeed hampered by my repressed grief.
The loss of my job and the position I served in for 14 years was the second most difficult loss I had ever experienced. Only losing my first wife, Ruth, was harder up to that time. I did not deal with this grieving process well. It extended for three years.
Finally, however, I gained victory through coming to grips with the grieving and releasing it. I was alone on our property with some livestock we owned. I suddenly burst into tears and sobbed for the longest time as I remembered some of my close friends who were still with that organization who “let me go.” They were able to continue carrying out the passion for that work we both shared. I had been deprived of that. I was forced out against my will. One final thing I did that helped me was to write a grief letter to some of the leadership team involved. Doing so provided a measure of freedom to my spirit.
I have heard many other examples where men who lost their jobs went into deep depression for a long time. Like me, these men often found their personal identity in their work. When that is lost, they flounder for identity and security. Since many men seem to think mourning is not “manly,” they try to tough it out instead of grieving freely for victory.
One thing that might have been helpful to me during those three years of grief would have been for someone to open the subject of my job loss and ask me how I got through it or what it was like going through that loss emotionally. Even asking me how I felt the day I was “let go” may have opened the topic for my heart to be expressed and freed from some pain.
WOMEN IN JOB LOSS
Experiencing grief due to the loss of a job is not gender-specific. It may be true that men tend to attach their identity to their job, while women tend to find security from their job; however, the loss can be just as traumatic for either.
Crystal realized that her loss of a job caused depression brought on by her grief. She began sleeping late and not even dressing to go out for the day. Those who helped her most were friends who tuned into her experience through caring. One friend called her each morning for a while to encourage her to get out of bed and face a new day. Crystal soon began getting up and dressing as if she were going to work. This lightened her spirits and helped her work through the deep hollow feelings of loss.
Not all of her friends were as understanding. One, whom she visited shortly after her job loss, did not factor her grief into her less-than-perky actions and criticized her “lack of caring.” This can be a challenge to all of us to be sensitive and give allowances to friends we know who face losses in the normal course of life, like losing a job.
« Point to Ponder »
Sympathy for the griever by recognizing their present pain has more value than attempts to empathize by comparing to your past losses.
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When Loss Steals A Child
Comforting those who have lost a child by any means
“When a child dies before the parent, the world is upside down.” (Old Chinese proverb)
Ruth and I did not talk very much about her impending death those seven years she battled cancer. I am sure it would have helped us some had we done more. One of the times we did have a serious talk about her going to heaven revolved around our children. She mourned her own death often and alone. She commonly said she felt like she was being “replaced” in life. The one painful topic we talked about was her mourning her loss of our children. “I probably won’t be able to see their children,” she muttered through her sobs. “I’m going to miss….” She rehearsed many things about our kids that she would not be there for. I watched her affectionately rock our youngest with a faraway look in her eye. I knew she was “missing” that bond in the future and trying to enjoy it now.
This level of loss was all so new to me. I would just listen to her as she reviewed her losses. And likewise, listening is the most powerful thing a friend can do for parents who have lost a child. The hurt comes across as unusually sharp and persistent. A thoughtless comment like, “Well, it must be God’s will,” is not a help at all. Their pain is deeply emotional and not theological.
The study I referred to in chapter four on life’s stress factors listed the loss of a child as being a close third behind losing a spouse and public speaking. There are factors about losing a child, however that can be permanently stifling. No matter how many children one has (I have eight), each one is unique. There will be always enough love for each child. Each one has their own permanent place in a parent’s heart. The loss of that child can never be replaced nor a substitution found. A child is irreplaceable.
I have heard well-meaning friends doing more harm than good to a grieving parent by saying thoughtless things like, “You can always have another one,” “Maybe you can get a dog,” and “Well at least you won’t have to go through … with this one.” You will find it always much better to identify the pain of the parent with simple statements such as, “I have no idea of how much you must be hurting right now.”
Recently I was privileged to meet Daniel Parkins in Southern California. Our get-acquainted conversation eventually exposed our recent losses. I was intrigued while listening to his process of dealing with his loss of a very young son to a serious illness. He lays it out well in his book about their journey entitled Nineteen Days:
I’m not sure I can explain the feeling well. It’s too impossibly deep for words to express. It’s as many writers and poets have said throughout the centuries — the breaking of the heart in two. It’s worse than anything I have felt, anything that I have heard, anything and everything cannot be compared to it — to take my son off life support, the beautiful Samuel whom we loved so desperately. Samuel, whom we prayed so fervently for and hoped for and dreamed for. Samuel, the younger brother, was now going to be missing in our lives for the rest of the sentence we were called to live. It really felt as though my son was being murdered; only I could not prevent it. I felt helpless. (pg. 144)
The Parkins were blessed with a circle of friends and colleagues who felt the pain with them and gave them lots of time and freedom to work through their grief. Their heart ached, not their long-term logic. Daniel pointed out to me that one of the very best thing received from others was that many were simply present for them and even gave silent hugs. Their loss and pain needed to be acknowledged, not explained away.
The loss of a child can be one of the most difficult losses. Even the Bible sees it as a severe experience. “…make mourning, as for an only son, most bitter lamentation…” (Jeremiah 6.26b)
Helping a friend or relative grieving the loss of a child may be a long-term commitment. Unlike other losses, the loss of a child returns to the mind of the parent in a fresh way when unmet milestones come along for the life cut short. You can be most helpful by supporting these times of prolonged grief. Just remembering with the parent can help soothe a broken heart at the child’s birthday or death anniversary. A card or text could go a long way to add comfort.
Loss is indeed a part of our human existence. Helping each other through these normal times increases our bonds to each other and fulfills a purpose for us being in each other’s lives.
LEADERSHIP MISSED IT
A few months following Ruth’s funeral, I met with a missionary couple who had been students under my teaching a few years prior. They had just returned from abroad where they served as missionaries in a remote area. While there, they had suffered the loss of a young child. During the year following that tragedy, their leadership had counseled with them that they should “get over” their loss and get on with life. This unwise counsel only deepened their emotional pain so severely that they packed their belongings and returned home.
I listened to their story in its entirety and expressed my empathy for their grief. The few comments I made came from the depths of my own mourning experience. At one point the wife burst out, “Finally, a leader who understands! No one else has indicated an understanding ear.” Her sobs flowed freely. The leadership in that area did not know what to say. Consequently, saying the wrong thing drove this dear couple away from their life’s passion.
Finding oneself aiding a friend or relative who has lost a child can be a shocking place to be. Knowing what to say can be a huge help in the healing process for them. It is important to remember all the standard things about the grieving process found in chapter two. In addition to these points, a few special considerations can be beneficial both to you and to the mourner you are helping.
It is very human for parents to hurt following the loss of a child. Emily Rapp, frequent memoir blogger and author, described her experience of losing a child:
My son Ronan died last week before his third birthday. He’d been sick with a terminal illness for his entire life, but as a friend of mine wisely noted, ‘Death and dying are very different.’ Now he is dead, which has marked the beginning of a new stage of grief, one that is characterized by deep sadness and longing, but cleaned of the mania of panic that is part of anticipatory grief.
Ronan is released from a body that could not live in this world; as his mother, I am released from watching him suffer. But we are still divided, forever and for good. I mourn him, I miss him, I’m sad. I’m angry, I’m confused, I’m scattered. I’m elated that he is free; I am ready to be happy. I’m human.
Nothing you say can make the pain go away. A caring comment cannot make it worse.
Helping to deal with the loss of a child may be a permanent part of your relationship with the bereaved parent. You can do things like sending ‘thinking of you’ cards on special occasions such as Mother’s Day and the child’s birthday. Offering to talk about the surge of feelings that can come over a grieving parent may bring tears, but remember those tears are not from hurt you created. The tears are part of the release process.
Parents feel responsible for the welfare of their children. Parents believe they are to protect their kids from harm and even failure. In addition to the “normal” attributes of the grieving process, we need to understand the complications possible with the loss of a child. At some point, some parents need to work through guilt. The feeling that there was something they should or could have done — or not done — to prevent the death commonly emerges. This is not abnormal. Here, again, concepts from logic statements may not help the loss of the heart.
I saw this truth first-hand one evening. At the end of a concert I noticed that the mature gentleman sitting beside me wore a sweatshirt indicating he hailed from the same state I grew up in. So I asked him what part of Iowa he was from. As it turned out, he lived not more than 30 minutes from where I grew up.
Early in the conversation he made it known that his daughter had died. He and his wife subsequently moved to their present home to be near her grave. I later learned that this all happened over five years earlier. As I listened, he unfolded his pain. A week before his daughter’s fatal car wreck she had been date-raped and the dad felt he could have done something to prevent it. It became obvious to me that his ongoing guilt had suspended his grieving process in time, keeping it very much alive. I encouraged him to find someone he could talk it through with. He assured me a local pastor was available to him. As we parted, I felt sad that his guilt (whether imagined or real) prevented his soul from healing.
A DIFFERENT LOSS
The loss of a child carries very different connotations from the loss of a parent, sibling, or friend. Parents may even tell you that they wish it could have been them instead of their child that died. This feeling can haunt them for years. The pain after the loss of a child differs from any other loss of a person you may know and love. Accept this and acknowledge it where needed. Be very careful not to try to compare your loss of a job, marriage or pet with it.
Also, telling a grieving parent that their child “is in a better place” may be more of an insult than a comfort. Showing concern for the parent’s pain is more helpful. A simple, “I have no idea of how bad you hurt but I am here for you” is much more supportive. You may even be able to offer to help them do something physical such as house work or cleaning the garage during difficult days. Inviting them to talk about their current thoughts about their child can be of help no matter how long it has been since the child’s death.
Anger can often be a part of the grieving process. In many cases it is even directed towards the deceased for leaving. Judith told me she felt a bit of anger towards her first husband for leaving her in death.
With the death of a child, anger isn’t usually directed towards the child, but can be pointed to a third party.
Joy Swift, who lost three children through murder, explained anger expression in an article entitled “How to Survive the Death of a Child:”
You will probably experience strong feelings of anger, especially if your child’s death is caused by a particular person. In that case, you have someone to lash out at, if only in your mind.
But when the death is caused by accident or disease, your anger may become confused. You may pour it out on someone who is completely undeserving of it — a doctor, a police officer, a rescue worker, a friend, or even your spouse. I expressed my anger quite freely, but George, a passive man, kept his inside and talked to very few people about how he really felt. (Signs of the Times – December 1987)
Realizing the core emotional needs of one who has lost a child can be helpful in your ability to help them and understand what they are working through. These complications can add time to the normal grieving process; many parents actually grieve the loss of a child for years instead of months. This does not necessarily mean they are in need of professional counsel. An understanding, empathetic ear goes a long way in knowing what to say.
In the English language there is no word for a parent who has lost a child. There’s a word for someone who lost a spouse — widow. There is a word for someone who has lost their parents — orphan. This lack of definition seems to be a reflection of the ambiguity of how parents who lose a child feel. Try to understand that and be careful not to try to explain it away. It’s doubtful you will ever totally understand their feelings, unless you have indeed lost a child the same way as the one you are helping.
Beware of the tendency to pull away from people who are hurting emotionally. Watching a friend or relative work through emotions such as anger can be hard. Your presence can give them permission to express their hurt and be freer. Be free to tastefully talk about the lost child with them and invite their response. Trite comments like, “Well, you could always have (adopt) another child,” may only multiply their hurts. Listen to where they are today in their feelings instead of referring to some possible “fix” in the future.
Adoption is usually viewed as a very positive event. Placing a child in the arms of willing, loving parents is a good thing. The loss of a child to the birth parent, in many cases, is overlooked. The mother who offered that child for adoption, if she is alive, can often experience the grieving process either immediately or over the course of her life.
Louise chose adoption for her baby:
It wasn’t fair. I had morning sickness just like the other ladies. I had a large pregnant belly just like the other ladies. I was uncomfortable at night getting kicked in the ribs just like the other ladies. I went through the same pain of labor as the other ladies did. But it wasn’t fair that I left the hospital empty-handed.
Then another lady, that had never felt the pain and joy of pregnancy, walks into the hospital empty-handed and walks out with a little pink bundle of joy.
My grieving was a choice. I knew I had to make a choice on how this child was going to be raised. Was I really ready to be a single parent? Or do I give this baby to a couple who is ready and waiting to be parents?
I struggled with that choice for almost eight months. In my heart, I knew adoption was the best for the baby. So the grieving started. The life growing inside wasn’t for me to raise. I chose not to give into [sic] imaginations of sleeping with a baby on my chest, or playdates, having a child take their first steps to me. I was fortunate enough to have been attending counseling sessions at a crisis pregnancy center. There I was able to talk with other moms who placed their baby for adoption. I knew the most painful days were still yet ahead of me.
The pain of loss was real. It hurt! I cried! I went through pregnancy but my arms were empty!
That was many years ago, and yet there is a lump in my throat as I write this now. The pain of loss will always be felt, but for me, it’s different as the years go by.
Louise’s support for her grieving process only began in the days and weeks following the adoption. Those were critical times, to be sure. Reassurance for her decision was vital. Acknowledgment of her deep pain had to happen. Comments like, “Well, at least you won’t have to potty train the baby,” would be detrimental rather than helpful.
She would find more comfort in companionship, words of understanding, and even thoughtful opportunities to begin diverting her thoughts to her own healing. Like many situations where a child is lost, her pain is not something she will “get over” in a few months. It literally becomes a part of her. In the months, and even years ahead, it can be helpful to still speak of the child and give reassurance that the child is doing great.
The process of a divorce affects the whole family. Symptoms of grief are often not associated with the process, but they are usually there. One of those issues can be the loss of children. This can be either through the physical separation or even through losing a child custody case.
Years after his divorce, Michael’s former wife filed for full custody of their two teenage sons. He lost. Michael described his loss:
My God, I am losing both my kids at once. Gone … across the country. I will never be a part of their day to day lives again. Everything I had is gone. I am now the relatives they visit for a vacation. Every part of their lives that I participated in has now been severed irrevocably. Each time I see them the loss is displayed before my eyes. Changes in growth, physically, mentally, differences in attitudes … each time I see them they are different people, with shades and shadows of the kids I knew before. The kids I knew, the kids I raised, my sons … are gone. God, why not take my arms and legs, my eyes … why my kids? Take it all. Take everything I have. Leave my kids. Every text, every e-mail, every phone call, every Skype session, makes my loss more real. Reopening the wound, salt, alcohol, peroxide … They move on with their lives. Activities, sports, girls, learning to drive, prom, school … the calls get less, Skype sessions cease, texts are rarely returned because they have moved on with their lives leaving me behind. Anger, resentment, bitterness, hatred towards the one who caused this to occur, the one who uprooted them, the one who took them from all they knew and loved and moved them to a place with no friends and family other than the one who took them except on rare occasions. Everything points to the holes in your life. I coached them and their team… That’s gone. The games, the plays, taking them to their friends, running your life around your kid’s activities, everything severed, cut off, burned … lost. Emptiness … pain ….
Supporting a grieving parent who has experienced the loss of a child will feel unending. Your understanding will mean a lot. Be prepared to care for them through many emotional ups and downs and even some false starts in the recovery process. A non-critical ear may be just the thing they need most to make it through a moment or day of grief. Heart comments will often be more helpful than logical statements.
“I’ve never been where you are so I don’t know exactly how you feel, but I would like to hear about your process of loss,” can be a great way to help a hurting parent move towards a place of freedom.
The number of abortions in our society has risen drastically over the last several decades. It’s been documented that emotional stress can be experienced, hence the growing pool of potential hurting men and women. If you are or know someone who has had an abortion either recently, or in the distant past, the grieving process is still very real. Like many losses, grief from an abortion can be “stuffed” down, embraced or spread out over a lifetime. Being aware of these options can help you be of great healing assistance to one experiencing it.
“I don’t know how anyone could ever kill their baby,” can be very hurtful or condemning when said in the presence of one who has experienced an abortion. Long-term sensitivity to grieving parents is a must. Helping someone in the depths of grieving an abortion will need to include concepts of forgiveness. Forgiveness may be needed from friends and relatives, from the unborn child, and even themselves. Understanding God’s grace and forgiveness may be a beginning. Your understanding ear can be an important part of their victory.
One loss of a child that is often played down too much is that of a miscarriage. Friends and relatives can be cold or even rude by either ignoring the pain process or demanding one short-change the grieving process. We need to view this as a full-blown loss.
The mother in miscarriage cases does not suffer alone. The father can experience a variety of hurts that need to be processed. In his article “A Father’s Story: Mourning the Baby We Never Had,” Ian Wallach explained some responses he heard about:
A month after the loss, I remembered each hushed backstory or confession of every male I knew who had experienced something similar, and I called them. A colleague whose wife had delivered a stillborn child offered to hang out and have a drink. A friend admitted that he felt embarrassed telling a coworker that he didn’t want to attend a baby shower. Another, who lost his son in the 35th week, told me that they’d moved apartments to escape the baby’s room they had created. He said he took no time off from work — not a single day — yet still didn’t understand why he’d misplace things or get lost in midsentence. After a pause, he asked me to keep a secret and said they were pregnant again but too frightened to tell anyone.
Your help for parents who have experienced a miscarriage needs to be long term. Allowing time alone to grieve helps, but don’t be afraid to talk about it with them in months and even years later. A good suggestion you can make would be for the grieving parents to have a funeral. It will help a bit to bring closure for them. I also suggest you include the lost baby when referring to the number of children they have.
Mother’s Day can be a hard day for some. Older, single people who would like to be married and have children but don’t can view Mother’s Day and Father’s Day as a reminder of their personal disappointment and feelings of failure in the family area. The day that celebrates their missing role can trigger grief that doesn’t seem to go away.
Shawn and Jenn are long-time friends of my family. Their life has been very fulfilled since their marriage many years ago, including a strong relationship with each other and a very productive career together in a religious non-profit organization. One thing is missing for them. They have no children.
Jenn offered some candid comments regarding their journey of hope and disappointment towards having children in their personal blog:
It’s complicated. And there’s no time frame. The broken heart can’t always be defined, but it’s there. And the smallest little thing can stir it all back up. There’s the lie that nobody cares and that people are tired of hearing about it. There’s the lie that we’ll be old and lonely and still aching for those six babies we never got to hold, raise: the legacy that never was. It’s hard and it hurts. It’s grief, loss, doubt, and sometimes guilt, smashed in some weird, oddly shaped box. A big part of the grieving process after IVF [in vitro fertilization] (x3) is knowing that you’ve done ALL you can using the most advanced medical treatments and procedures and surgeries. It’s taking two steps towards closure, accepting that you will be ‘the couple without kids,’ and then falling backwards at the thought of Christmas mornings with just the two of us – forever.
MURDER AND SUICIDE
Violent deaths are always traumatic. In the event of a child’s violent death, whether their life was taken by themselves or others, breadth is added to the sorrow. Horror and deep regret multiply the pain. The scope of this grief swells up as often unexplainable by many parents.
In an interview by Timothy C. Morgan on March 28, 2014, Kay Warren attempts to put her loss into words. She and her husband, Pastor Rick Warren, had lost a son to suicide one year earlier:
Because of our love, we conceived a child together. I birthed him from my body. He was a part of me. A part of me is no longer here. How can I be the same? For us as a couple, as a family, there were five of us; now there are four. Our child murdered himself in the most raw way I can tell you. Suicide is self-murder. Our son, the murderer, was himself. The trauma of knowing what he did to himself, how he destroyed the body of this child that we loved. He did it to end the pain. How could we ever be the same? Trauma changes you. I can’t ever go back to who I was. (Christianity Today)
As you come alongside parents in this form of grief, you will need to accept the fact that their hurt will be long term. In fact, you would be better prepared to help them if you expected their grief to increase for a time instead of subsiding. Beware of verbiage that pushes them to “get over it.” The goal for a bereaved parent is getting through the process, not getting over it. Consolation of having other children, if this is true, is no comfort for the one lost.
Often simple statements of your continued friendship and support will do more good than attempts to make their hurt go away. Keep contact with them through social media and texting if impromptu visits seem out of place. Showing them your support will be more meaningful than saying it.
ORDER YOUR COPY OF THE BOOK: “I Didn’t Know What To Say” today.
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