...running around in my head these days. Please - in this post I'm so not looking for accolades about how good of a friend I am. That is so very irrelevant to me. What I AM seeking is your prayers, not only for my friend but for you or any person you know or anyone in the world who is grieving the terrible loss of a loved one.
I have been in a place this last week where I have never been before.
I have been very fortunate in life - so fortunate - I have never suffered real grief. Yes, I have lost a grandparent, but there is such difference between the loss of an aging 85-year-old's life and the life of a vibrant 43 year old mother. tremendous difference. And I'm certainly not trying to draw a comparison - I'm trying to say I've never really been there.
More than that, I have never even been in a place of supporting someone who is grieving. At least not closely.
Trying to think of how to articulate what I want to say.
For my friend - more than anything I am praying, crying out for God to give her and her family a break, damnit. Maybe that is selfish, since her and her immediate family are alive and healthy - and for that I am incredibly grateful. For the sake of privacy I won't go into details - but the two situations she has written about - her father and her best friend - are not the only grief-worthy situations in her life right now.
Sigh.
Just some imagery that came to me. Maybe it's inaccurate, but it's what's in my head. If this analogy seems wrong or insensitive, I'm sorry. I'm processing out loud right now.
Grief falls upon someone like a canopy - it envelops them and puts up a barrier between them and life - darkening out the sun and creating a place which is separate from the rest of their world. However, that canopy, or tent, has to have something to affix itself to or it will blow in the wind - shaking the grieving person, knocking them around. It has to have poles or stakes and those poles have to have support. They have to find firm, secure footing on the ground.
I am doing my best to be that firm footing - the stake driven into the solid ground. I cannot enter the tent with my friend and I cannot lift it from her - but I can do my damndest to hold tight to the tent supports so that the tent shakes as little as possible while my friend is inside.I can hold it tight to the ground so when it rains it does not fall on her. Anything I can do to make it as stable as I am capable of.
I'm don't live in very close proximity to her - so I am not there doing her dishes and laundry - maybe I ought to be. But what I can be is the person she can call at midnight when she needs to talk - the person who can love her and listen through the tears, stories of a life which she will miss. I did go hang out with her for a few hours the other night - and just listened, while our boys - hers and mine - ran around the house and yard. I feel as though there is more I ought to do - but I'm trying to listen to the voice of the spirit instead of the voice of "ought".
And obviously this tent requires more than one stake for stability - and I am so glad to be paired up right now with other strong stakes who are helping to hold firm her tent of grief. And we each have a different purpose, a different hand, heart, perspective to offer. For this I am thankful and I pray that there is someone to meet her there in every aspect of her grief. People who have been there and DO know. People who are bringing food and love. People who are calling and praying. Even all of you who have taken the time to leave prayers on her blog pages - thank you, you are stakes, as well. Every bit of firm footing that any of us can be is valuable.
But then there are deeper and more difficult layers to this - for, more importantly, my friend is also a stake herself, supporting the tremendous tent of grief with has fallen over a family suffering the most heart-wrenching of losses. She has spent time caring for the family's adolescent daughter. She has packed boxes and scrubbed bathrooms and sorted things - things which have attached to them memories of times which will never be again. She has spoken to the press on several occasions and fielded their phone calls. She has tried to care for the details the husband cannot be burdened with because of his grief and his son who is still in the hospital, recovering from his injuries.
For my friend, on top of all this comes the relational dynamics and tension between many grieving people, family and friends - many of those dynamics are unpretty and maybe even unfair.
So I shared the only pearl of wisdom I possess - thanks to my mother:
"If for no other reason - let everything you say and do and feel during this time have the purpose and motive of honoring her life."
Of course I wasn't quite so articulate at midnight last night. But that's the drift.
Ok, I'm spent. I do have some other posts in my head, but they will come out when they come out. Thanks for listening.
I have been in a place this last week where I have never been before.
I have been very fortunate in life - so fortunate - I have never suffered real grief. Yes, I have lost a grandparent, but there is such difference between the loss of an aging 85-year-old's life and the life of a vibrant 43 year old mother. tremendous difference. And I'm certainly not trying to draw a comparison - I'm trying to say I've never really been there.
More than that, I have never even been in a place of supporting someone who is grieving. At least not closely.
Trying to think of how to articulate what I want to say.
For my friend - more than anything I am praying, crying out for God to give her and her family a break, damnit. Maybe that is selfish, since her and her immediate family are alive and healthy - and for that I am incredibly grateful. For the sake of privacy I won't go into details - but the two situations she has written about - her father and her best friend - are not the only grief-worthy situations in her life right now.
Sigh.
Just some imagery that came to me. Maybe it's inaccurate, but it's what's in my head. If this analogy seems wrong or insensitive, I'm sorry. I'm processing out loud right now.
Grief falls upon someone like a canopy - it envelops them and puts up a barrier between them and life - darkening out the sun and creating a place which is separate from the rest of their world. However, that canopy, or tent, has to have something to affix itself to or it will blow in the wind - shaking the grieving person, knocking them around. It has to have poles or stakes and those poles have to have support. They have to find firm, secure footing on the ground.
I am doing my best to be that firm footing - the stake driven into the solid ground. I cannot enter the tent with my friend and I cannot lift it from her - but I can do my damndest to hold tight to the tent supports so that the tent shakes as little as possible while my friend is inside.I can hold it tight to the ground so when it rains it does not fall on her. Anything I can do to make it as stable as I am capable of.
I'm don't live in very close proximity to her - so I am not there doing her dishes and laundry - maybe I ought to be. But what I can be is the person she can call at midnight when she needs to talk - the person who can love her and listen through the tears, stories of a life which she will miss. I did go hang out with her for a few hours the other night - and just listened, while our boys - hers and mine - ran around the house and yard. I feel as though there is more I ought to do - but I'm trying to listen to the voice of the spirit instead of the voice of "ought".
And obviously this tent requires more than one stake for stability - and I am so glad to be paired up right now with other strong stakes who are helping to hold firm her tent of grief. And we each have a different purpose, a different hand, heart, perspective to offer. For this I am thankful and I pray that there is someone to meet her there in every aspect of her grief. People who have been there and DO know. People who are bringing food and love. People who are calling and praying. Even all of you who have taken the time to leave prayers on her blog pages - thank you, you are stakes, as well. Every bit of firm footing that any of us can be is valuable.
But then there are deeper and more difficult layers to this - for, more importantly, my friend is also a stake herself, supporting the tremendous tent of grief with has fallen over a family suffering the most heart-wrenching of losses. She has spent time caring for the family's adolescent daughter. She has packed boxes and scrubbed bathrooms and sorted things - things which have attached to them memories of times which will never be again. She has spoken to the press on several occasions and fielded their phone calls. She has tried to care for the details the husband cannot be burdened with because of his grief and his son who is still in the hospital, recovering from his injuries.
For my friend, on top of all this comes the relational dynamics and tension between many grieving people, family and friends - many of those dynamics are unpretty and maybe even unfair.
So I shared the only pearl of wisdom I possess - thanks to my mother:
"If for no other reason - let everything you say and do and feel during this time have the purpose and motive of honoring her life."
Of course I wasn't quite so articulate at midnight last night. But that's the drift.
Ok, I'm spent. I do have some other posts in my head, but they will come out when they come out. Thanks for listening.
Erin,
ReplyDeleteI understand. I too was/am a stake for one of my dear friends while she and her family were/are grieving the loss of a husband and father due to a tragic car accident that happened two years ago. I know how it feels to be that support and yet, knowing that it's not enough. There is a drive to want to do more. I get it. I also know how it feels to tell God, enough is enough. Hasn't her family suffered enough? I tell God that often regarding my friend and her family. They have lost a husband and father and to me that is enough pain that anyone should have to experience in a lifetime. Anything else, just seems unfair.
My advice to you right now is to continue what you are doing. Listen to your friend, be the best support you can be for her, walk with her through this journey of grief even when it gets tough. For yourself, take care of yourself. Talk to someone about what you are feeling and thinking. Don't let your feelings about the whole issue bottle up inside of you. Continue to blog and sort through your own thoughts and feelings. Know that I am here, praying for you.
Thank you Smitty. Your encouragement means a lot to me - it's not so much that I have been doubting myself or feeling weak myself and have been in need of encouragement that way - but just to know someone understands what I'm talking about.
ReplyDeleteThank you.
erin,
ReplyDeletei'm practically blind from this damned migraine, but i'm goint to try to write something that makes sense,
last year i met a new friend, in town for one year only. our daughters became immediate best friends, and then my friend almost immediately became very ill with a long term chronic illness that just sucked her right out of normal life. she lived 45 min. from me. i couldn't bring dinner or do chores for her. plus she lived on base and when she was too ill to get to the gate to sign me in i couldn't even come over or take her little girl to soccer practice. very complicated.
i always felt inadequate and like i did far too little even though i really wanted to do more. somehow she felt my concern and help even when it was strangers bringing her meals and taking her to run errands...
years ago i came up with a personal motto. i don't know if it will help you, but at the time it was practically a lifesaver for me.
do what you can, and then stop.
does that sound stupid?
i had never given myself permission to stop even when i couldn't do anymore in any given situation. IF I couldn't do anymore, I would beat myself up for not being able to. somehow, that silly little motto became a blessed reminder for me that limits are limits and they don't make me bad or uncaring- they're just limits.
so that's all i could possibly tell you now. you know what you can do for pam now. do all you can and then stop. then do what you can again and then stop...
and remind yourself that to expect anymore just doesn't make sense. she knows how much you care and it means a great deal to her. i promise.
Cindy - I'm so sorry about your migraine. I have had horrible relapses too.
ReplyDeleteThank you very much for your wise words. They are very true.
So far I haven't really done anything but listen, and I can typically do that pretty well.
in,
ReplyDeleteI don't really have any words, as I too have not suffered grief like Pam is now. My heart bleeds for her. As Cindy wrote, do the best you can. I'll be praying for you. ((hugs))
Thanks Lyn. Sometimes it's hard to know what to say when one has never been there. But I try.
ReplyDeletestay strong for your friend - she needs you. will pray for you too.
ReplyDeleteThanks Trace. Thanks for stopping over at her blog, too. I appreciate it.
ReplyDeletewhat an awesome metaphor, erin, about grief being like a canopy. i just may have to quote you.
ReplyDeleteand yes, you have been like a stake for me at this time. i am so grateful for my friends who have been walking along side me in this hardest experience of my entire life. i literally feel myself being sculpted by the sorrow, and also by the comfort of others. it humbles me.
{hug}
thanks for all your love and care and friendship.
Hi Pam - Hey, I didn't do much except listen - but I was so glad to be able to do that. I'm just so thankful for everyone who rallied around you and around Janene's family these past few weeks.
ReplyDelete