A good friend of mine lost his wife of 60 years this week. I called him to say…what? There aren’t words for this kind of thing. There is only love.
A debt I owed to this person who had given so much to me, through many years of friendship and fellowship.
It made me think of the losses I had experienced in the last few decades, losses that sometimes I could not even acknowledge.
The loss of my childhood. Not my youth, but my innocence. The privilege of just having a normal childhood was missing growing up in at our houses…. or houses. We moved a lot.
My family had secrets, and we were told not to tell. My sister’s abortion and trip to Mexico. The bruises mother covered on my face with make-up when we had to go visit close relatives. The fights behind closed doors that no one would explain.
Later, I learned to forgive my parents for not being able to give me what the did not have, and to understand the pressure of raising five kids midst their own personal problems and history that seeped into our family life.
Could I have done better? I don’t know. Alcoholism robbed us of so much.
I have learned how to let go, and surrender what was, and move on to what is, and remember what I don’t want for my own future.
I no longer want to be a member of the”if only” club. I’m done blaming my father or accusing my mother. Tired of asking “why?” or worse, “why me?” The day came when I had to say, “My past pain may have your name written on it, but my hand pens the future. “
I have mourned other things in my life. A short marriage that failed. Years I missed when my teenage son ran away. The death of another son in a freak accident.Trying suicide attempts by a young granddaughter. Trips to mental hospitals, jails, medical wards.
We mourned for ourselves, our dreams, our families.
Yet healing came. I stopped putting my feelings on hold. I acknowledged my powerlessness. I sought peace, comfort and support where I could find it, and practiced a measure of self-care. Honoring my feelings of grief, I wrote good-bye letters to my Mother, and to our Caesar, made amends and forgave my father, practiced prayer and meditation, fought against the mental enemies of obsession and worry in the midst of on-going crisises-all of these things helped move me from despair and despondency- to peace and presence. I learned I did not have to be in a state of constant vigilance. Situations did not always change, but my response to it did. God’s love and power remained unchanging, despite certain shadows that would sometimes block my path.
The most valuable thing I gained, as I began to achieve insight and breathe through this process of surrendering losses, or delayed grief, was hope. Hope through finding joy in the present moment, to practicing gratitude, to appreciate that for everything there is a season. There is always a lesson to be learned, and that lesson becomes a gift to pass on to someone else. Instead of grieving what was, I find myself equipped to help the younger generation navigate the storms of life, to enjoy being a grandmother who can listen and love an untried soul, to mentor others past demons and bad dreams, to say a silent prayer for those who need comfort now, like the one I said today for my friend who is grieving his wife’s passing.
Do these tragic losses of the past need to be hidden in darkness, covered in self-pity, relived in exhaustion ? They are ofttimes hard to share. Living in chaos as a child, made it difficult to feel comfortable in the calm. Unpredictability was more familiar. But I’ve learned to journey through the depth of emotions these experiences bring, to surrender the burden, and to look for the light. There’s always a lesson behind it.What is God showing me today? To find the gift behind the pain.
As I reflect on the these spiritual freedoms, rediscover the power of choice, and look for the opportunity to cut someone’s burden in half by inviting them to share it. I’m forever grateful. Grateful for all God had given me, all he has taken from me, and all he has left with me.
May it ever be so.
