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Please check back often as I fill these pages
with inspirational thoughts, quotes and poems, and I hope
something you read here will touch you as so often words can... |
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In
addition to the wonderful thoughts and poems presented here, you'll find links to these special writings below. |
| This is a letter my sister found, tucked carefully inside her baby book: A Baby's First Love Letter |
| To My Baby Anne by Anna C. Gibbs |
| This loving eulogy was written by Kathy Kobberger and delivered at her father's funeral at St. Rose of Lima Church, Short Hills, New Jersey, on September 13, 2000. A Tribute to My Father |
| Kathy Kobberger also wrote and delivered this beautiful eulogy for her beloved sister Joan O'Brien, who died on January 14, 2003. A Tribute to My Sister |
| In her true story about the special bond between a young girl and a puppy, author Lynelle Dawson poignantly describes the healing effects our animal companions can have, both on those who are seriously ill and on those who are left behind after the death of their loved ones. A Bond, for Life |
| During the Civil War, a week before the first Battle of Bull Run (a battle in which he would be killed), Major Sullivan Ballou of the 2nd Rhode Island Unit wrote this touching letter to his wife. My Very Dear Sarah |
| Writer Mike Kleiman describes the difficulty he faces as he selects an appropriate Valentine's Day gift for his eight-year-old son in How the Gifts Arrive |
| After Grandy suffers a major loss, she cooks up her own unique batch of "tear soup". Richly illustrated in full color, this marvelous book gives both adults and children a thorough understanding of grief, along with a glimpse into Grandy's life as she blends various ingredients into her own mourning process. Tear Soup: Recipe for Healing after Loss |
| I wrote this in honor of my mother and read it as our family gathered for her memorial service on her birthday, March 27, 1994. In Loving Memory of My Mother |
| In loving tribute to her lifelong friend, Lucy Linder wrote this moving poem and read it at her memorial service on May 23, 2003. When You See |
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Grief is
neither an illness nor a pathological condition, but rather a highly personal and normal response to life-changing events, a natural process that can lead to healing and personal growth. The transition through this difficult time is the courageous journey.
--
Sandi Caplan and Gordon Lang, in |
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I do not
believe that sheer suffering teaches. If suffering alone taught, all the world would be wise, since everyone suffers. To suffering must be added mourning, understanding, patience, love, openness and the willingness to remain vulnerable. ~ Anne Morrow Lindbergh |
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Not all those
who wander are lost. -- J.R.R. Tolkien |
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Grief still has to be worked
through. It is like walking through water. Sometimes there are little waves lapping about my feet. Sometimes there is an enormous breaker that knocks me down. Sometimes there is a sudden and fierce squall. But I know that many waters cannot quench love, neither can the floods drown it. We are not good about admitting grief, we Americans. It is embarrassing. We turn away, afraid that it might happen to us. But it is part of life, and it has to be gone through. – Madeleine L’Engle, in Two-Part Invention: The Story of a Marriage |
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Understand
that your family, friends and support group may help get you on the right path, but very early in the process you have to get behind the wheel. Only you can complete the road to recovery. -- From a Friend at GriefHelp.org, in The Road to Recovery |
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When a loss
hits us, we have not only the particular loss to mourn but also the shattered beliefs and assumptions of what life should be. These life beliefs must be mourned separately. Sometimes we must grieve for them first. We can't grieve the loss if we are in the midst of "It's not supposed to happen this way" . . . We intellectually know that bad things happen ~ but to other people, not us, and certainly not in the world we assumed we were living in . . . Your belief system needs to heal and regroup as much as your soul does. You must start to rebuild a new belief system from the foundation up, one that has room for the realities of life and still offers safety and hope for a different life: a belief system that will ultimately have a beauty of its own to be discovered with life and loss. Think of a lifeless forest in which a small plant pushes its head upward, out of the ruin. In our grief process, we are moving into life from death, without denying the devastation that came before. -- Elisabeth Kübler-Ross and David Kessler, in On Grief and Grieving : Finding the Meaning of Grief Through the Five Stages of Loss 
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Man
cannot remake himself without suffering, for he is both the marble and the sculptor. -- Alexis Carre |
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I Believe
Every now and then, soft as breath upon my skin,
Now when you die your life goes on ~
There are more than angels watching over me
– Performed by Diamond Rio |
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There’s music
in a well-lived life, and melodies remain each time a loving memory repeats the sweet refrain. The song that lingers in our hearts becomes our legacy ~ its beauty gently echoing through all eternity. © Hallmark Cards, Inc. |
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| It is love, not time, that heals all wounds. |
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This is for
someone I will always admire
But from the
moment you held me in your arms
You held my
hand when I was afraid
I believe the
greatest gift I have ever received Thanks Mum xx
--
Sallie Manship |
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Grieving
allows us to heal, to remember with love rather than pain. It is a sorting process. One by one you let go of the things that are gone and you mourn for them. One by one you take hold of the things that have become a part of who you are and build again.
--
Rachel Naomi Remen |
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Grief never
ends, but it changes. It is a passage, not a place to stay. The sense of loss must give way if we are to value the life that was lived. – Author unknown |
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Goodnight,
my angel, time to close your eyes — Billy Joel |
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The
greatest tribute to the dead is not grief but gratitude. -- Thornton Wilder |
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I am a
parent twice bereaved. In one thirteen-month period I lost my oldest son to suicide and my youngest son to leukemia. Grief has taught me many things about the fragility of life and the finality of death. To lose that which means the most to us is a lesson in helplessness and humility and survival. After being stripped of any illusions of control I might have harbored, I had to decide what questions were still worth asking. I quickly realized that the most obvious ones -- Why my sons? Why me? -- were as pointless as they were inevitable. Any appeal to fairness was absurd. I was led by my fellow sufferers, those I loved and those who had also endured irredeemable losses, to find reasons to go on. Like all who mourn I learned an abiding hatred for the word "closure," with its comforting implications that grief is a time-limited process from which we will all recover. The idea that I could reach a point when I would no longer miss my children was obscene to me and I dismissed it. I had to accept the reality that I would never be the same person, that some part of my heart, perhaps the best part, had been cut out and buried with my sons. What was left? Now there was a question worth contemplating.
--
Gordon Livingston, MD, in |
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The span
between life and death can be as quick and sudden as a puff of wind that blows out a candle. But the candle does not suffer after darkness comes. It is the person left in the dark room who gropes and stumbles.
--
Helen Duke Fike,
Interregnum |
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About his poem the author writes, My daughter died at the age of twenty, having succumbed to the temptation of drink and drugs. In the eyes of the world she was an adult, but to me she was still my precious little girl. During that first year following her death, I wrote almost forty poems, which describe my attempt at coming to terms with her loss through the medium of poetry. This is one of them: How Do You Do?
How do you describe an empty heart
-- David T. Kerry |
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When I
let go of what I am, I become what I might be. -- Lao Tzu |
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We must
learn the hard lesson that without the pain of inner irritation, the pearls of wisdom will not be produced in us. I lovingly call this The Pearl Principle: no pain, no transformative gain. Inside an oyster, it takes an irritant – like a grain of sand or a bit of shell – to produce the mucous juices that engulf and surround the irritant, eventually hardening into a precious pearl. It is the same for us, regardless of how much we wish it to be otherwise. Difficulties and suffering produce the aspiration for spiritual enlightenment, and it is this aspiration which is needed to motivate us along the path of awakening and liberation. There is no growth without growing pains– and the labor pains of giving birth to a new world and a new way of being can be the most painful yet rewarding of all.
–
Lama Surya Das, in |
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Grief
comes in one size, Extra Large. If we tuck it away in the bottom drawer where it never sees the light of day, it remains exactly the same. On the other hand, if we wear it, feel it, talk about it, and share it with others, it is likely that it will become faded, shrunk and worn, or will simply no longer fit. When grief has served its purpose, we are able to recognize the many gifts we have gained.
--
Dianne Arcangel, in |
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If you
truly want to grow as a person and learn, you should realize that the universe has enrolled you in the graduate program of life, called loss. -- Elisabeth Kübler-Ross |
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As We Look
Back
~
Lliam Tipton and Kyle Perry |
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God, Speak
to Me
The man
whispered,
The
man looked around and said,
And
the man shouted,
So
the man cried out in despair, -- Author unknown |
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Only he
who suffers can be the guide and healer of the suffering. -- Thomas Mann |
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A shadow
of joy flickered; it is me. I told you I wouldn't leave. My memories, my thoughts are imbedded deep in your heart. I still love you. Do not for one moment think that you have been abandoned. I am in the Light. In the corner, in the hall, the car, the yard ~ these are the places I stay with you. My spirit rises every time you pray for me, but my energy comes closer to you. Love does not diminish; it grows stronger. I am the feather that finds you in the yard, the dimmed light that grows brighter in your mind, I place our memories for you to see. We lived in our special way, a way that now has its focus changed. I still crave your understanding and long for the many words of prayer and good fortune for my soul. I am in the Light. As you struggle to adjust without me, I watch silently. Sometimes I summon up all the strength of my new world to make you notice me. Impressed by your grief, I try to impress my love deeper into your consciousness. As you should, I call out to the Heavens for help. You should know that the fountain of youth does exist. My soul is now healthy. Your love sends me new found energy. I am adjusting to this new world. I am with you and I am in the Light. Please don't feel bad that you can't see me. I am with you wherever you go. I protect you, just as you protected me so many times. Talk to me and somehow I will find a way to answer you. Mother, Father, son or daughter, it makes no difference. Brother, sister, lover, husband or wife, it makes no difference. Whatever our connection ~ friend or even foe ~ I see you with my new eyes. I am learning to help wherever you are, wherever I am needed. This can be done because I am in the Light. When you feel despair, reach out to me. I will come. My love for you truly does transcend from Heaven to Earth. Finish your life with the enthusiasm and zest that you had when we were together in the physical sense. You owe this to me, but more importantly, you owe it to yourself. Life continues for both of us. I am with you because I love you and I am in the Light. -- Author Unknown |
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Deep
peace of the running wave to you. Deep peace of the flowing air to you. Deep peace of the quiet earth to you. Deep peace of the shining stars to you. Deep peace of the infinite peace to you. -- Gaelic Blessing |
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Loneliness
is too close a companion for me to be objective. It has gone home with me on long walks, sat with me on numerous silent evenings, stood with me in the middle of a group of laughing people, and lay across the bed with me as I cried because I didn’t know what else to do. It seems that even when I escape it for a while, it is waiting not too far away. We have had long talks, loneliness and I, and I have to say that I have learned much more from our journeying together. We have become friends. But the friendship was a long time in coming. Loneliness did not just come into my life with the accident that left me a widow but it did become immensely intensified then . . . Could it be that loneliness is given to us as a reminder that this world was never intended to be our home and the things of this world were never intended to satisfy us? – Verdell Davis, in Riches Stored in Secret Places |
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With one
more look at you I could learn to time the clouds And let the sunshine through ~ Leave a troubled past And I might start anew Or solve the mysteries If you're the prize Refresh these tired eyes With one more look at you I might overcome the anger That I've learned to know ~ Find the peace of mind I lost so long ago Your gentle touch Has made me strong again ~ And I'll belong again, For when you look at me I'm everything and more That I had dreamed I'd be. My spirit feels a promise: I won't be alone We'll live and love forever With one more look at you I'd learn to change the stars And change our fortunes, too ~ I'd have the constellations Paint your portrait, too So all the world Might share this wondrous sight: The world would end each night With one more look at you. -- Written and sung by Barbra Streisand in A Star Is Born |
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Six months, but the grief is still raw, open to the bone. In the most unlikely places -- the dentist's, restaurants, creative meetings, sitting on the john -- I can still be engulfed in sobs. In public I have to excuse myself or pretend something's gone down the wrong pipe. Once, in L.A., a guy actually gave me the Heimlich maneuver. I could hardly tell him it was okay, I was only choking on grief.
--
Tony Hendra, in |
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"I don't
think of him every day; I think of him every hour of every day."
-- Gregory Peck, in an interview |
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Sisters If you are ever going to love me, love me now, while I can know the sweet and tender feelings which from true affection flow. Love me now while I am living. Do not wait until I am gone and then have it chiseled in marble, sweet words in cold stone. If you have tender thoughts of me, please tell me now. If you wait until I'm sleeping, never to awaken, there will be death between us, and I won't hear you then. So if you love me, even a little bit, let me know it while I'm living so I can treasure it.
Copyright © 1998 - 2005 by
Julia Napier |
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Please
forgive me. I forgive you. Thank you. I love you.
These four simple statements are powerful tools
-- from
The Four Things That Matter Most : A Book About Living
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Sweet
Remembrance
Let
fate do her worst; there are relics of joy, -- T. Moore |
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To Where
You Are Who can say for certain, maybe you're still here ~ I feel you all around me, your memory so clear. Deep within the stillness I can hear you speak. You're still an inspiration ~ Can it be that you are mine forever, love and you are watching over me from up above? Fly me up to where you are beyond the distant star ~ I wish upon tonight to see you smile, if only for awhile to know you're there ~ A breath away's not far to where you are. Are you gently sleeping here inside my dream ~ And isn't faith believing all power can't be seen? As my heart holds you just one beat away, I cherish all you gave me everyday ~ 'Cause you are mine forever, love watching me from up above. And I believethat angels breathe and that love will live on and never leave. Fly me up to where you are beyond the distant star ~ I wish upon tonight to see you smile, if only for awhile to know you're there ~ A breath away's not far to where you are. I know you're there ~ A breath away's not far to where you are – Performed byJosh Groban, Composed by Richard Marx Listen to this song here |
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"If
their song is to continue, then we must do the singing."
We have to find that special way that will allow us to sing our loved one’s song loud and clear . . . Knowing you are doing something to keep your loved one's memory alive keeps you passionately busy, allows you to tell your sacred story, adds joy to your heart, brings an array of beautiful, loving people into your life, and rewards you with a meaningful life again. Your loud voice will echo in many hearts making sure your loved one is never erased from memory.
-- Elaine Stillwell, in |
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When I
come to the end of my journey and I travel my last weary mile, just forget, if you can, that I ever frowned and remember only the smile. Forget unkind words I have spoken; remember some good I have done. Forget that I've stumbled and blundered and sometimes fell by the way. Remember I have fought some hard battles and won, ere the close of the day. Then forget to grieve for my going; I would not have you sad for a day, but in summer just gather some flowers and remember the place where I lay, and come in the shade of the evening when the sun paints the sky in the west. Stand for a few moments beside me and remember only my best. -- Author unknown |
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His
father had been dead for fifty-three years. Since then, Marshall had lost his wife, two siblings, and son-in-law, as well as many friends and colleagues. Even at his advanced age walking with two canes and battling cancer, he was sought after in his community for his wisdom and good humor. He was glad to give advice to others. Yet, he told me, when he faced tough decisions himself, he’d often sit quietly in his easy chair, close his eyes, and conjure up an image of his own father. Then he’d ask the dead man for advice. He heard no actual voices from beyond, but when he emerged from his meditation, he’d usually have something of an answer. Marshall explained: "The loss of cherished persons is never completely overcome. The relationships continue. They are always with us. . . . I have my father’s value system, his frame of reference. I have preserved the father-space inside me." -- Neil Chethik, in FatherLoss : How Sons of All Ages Come to Terms with the Deaths of Their Dads |
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All the hardships that you face in life, all the tests and tribulations, all the nightmares, and all the losses, most people still view as curses, as punishments by God, as something negative. If you would only know that nothing that comes to you is negative. I mean nothing. All the trials and tribulations, and the biggest losses that you ever experience, things that make you say, "If I had known about this, I would never have been able to make it through," are gifts to you, opportunities that you are given to grow. That is the sole purpose of existence on this planet Earth. You will not grow if you sit in a beautiful flower garden and somebody brings you gorgeous food on a silver platter. But you will grow if you are sick, if you are in pain, if you experience losses, and if you do not put your head in the sand, but take the pain and learn to accept it, not as a curse or punishment, but as a gift to you with a very, very specific purpose.
--
Elisabeth
Kübler-Ross, in |
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To
everything there is a season, and a time to every purpose under the heaven; a time to be born and a time to die; a time to plant, and a time to pluck up that which is planted; a time to kill, and a time to heal; a time to break down, and a time to build up; a time to weep, and a time to laugh; a time to mourn, and a time to dance; a time to cast away stones, and a time to gather stones together; a time to embrace, and a time to refrain from embracing; a time to get, and a time to lose; a time to keep, and a time to cast away; a time to rend, and a time to sew; a time to keep silence, and a time to speak; a time to love, and a time to hate; a time of war, and a time of peace. -- Ecclesiastes 3: 1-8 |
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Perhaps,
for some people, the reason prayer works is because God is mute and doesn't give advice or try to fix things. He just listens and lets you work it out for yourself. -- Author unknown |
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Religion
is not a shield from pain, but a mechanism for dealing with it effectively. Effectively: not hiding from pain, not eliminating it, not denying it, not continuing it -- but working through it and getting past it through very practical methods. -- Dorian Scott Cole |
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Grief
remains one of the few things that has the power to
silence us. It is a whisper in the world and a clamor within. More than sex, more than faith, even more than its usher death, grief is unspoken, publicly ignored except for those few moments at the funeral that are over too quickly, or the conversations among the cognoscenti, those of us who recognize in one another a kindred chasm deep in the center of who we are. Maybe we do not speak of it because death will mark all of us, sooner or later. Or maybe it is unspoken because grief is only the first part of it. After a time it becomes something less sharp but larger, too, a more enduring thing called loss. Perhaps that is why this is the least explored passage: because it has no end. The world loves closure, loves a thing that can, as they say, be gotten through. This is why it comes as a great surprise to find that loss is forever, that two decades after the event there are those occasions when something in you cries out at the continual presence of an absence. -- Anna Quindlen |
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I have
been driven many times upon my knees by the overwhelming conviction that I had nowhere else to go. -- Abraham Lincoln |
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The days
and nights when I miss my father most are not these big-ticket events, which tend to buzz and flush with their own excitement and stand so far outside normal time as to defy any expected family context. I miss him more, I find, in the unexpected moments that remind me of how he was in day-to-day life. The discovery of a volume on maritime history at a used-book sale, for example, can make my throat close up momentarily as I recall how he'd settle in after dinner with just such a treasure . . . These are the details that bring my father back to me, and also remind me of my loss. -- Clea Simon, in Fatherless Women: How We Change After We Lose Our Dads |
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When we
walk to the edge of all the light we have and take a step into the darkness of the unknown, we must believe one of two things will happen ~ there will be something solid for us to stand upon, or we will be taught to fly. --Anonymous |
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Instead of
letting go of our attachment as we grieve, we can make the mistake of grasping on to the deceased person even more strongly. Halfway through the second year after my husband's death, the cycles of intense pain and sadness were continuing, and I felt a fresh fear that my grief would never finish. Part of me wanted to ignore this intense pain returning month after month, to push it down and avoid it all together. Yet I suspected that repressing my own pain would not help in the long run either, so I decided to bring more awareness to my situation. I asked myself if I was doing anything that might be prolonging the mourning process. Then I uncovered the secret thoughts I was generating each time I felt deep sadness and pain: I can't live without you. I hate being alone. I want you back. There was so much grasping in my mind, so many wishes that could never be satisfied! If I continued to think and feel this way, I realized, there would be no end to my grief and despair. It was clear that I needed to replace my grasping with a new way of thinking: I am letting you go and wishing you well. I am going to survive and be strong. I am going to make a new life for myself. When I felt the deep pain and sadness rising again, I began practicing letting go in this way. After a few months of taking this approach, my process of mourning finished.
--
Christine Longaker, in |
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. . Vulnerability to death is one of the given conditions of life. We can't explain it any more than we can explain life itself. We can't control it, or sometimes even postpone it. All we can do is try to rise beyond the question, "Why did it happen?" and begin to ask the question, "What do I do now that it has happened?" -- Harold S. Kushner, in When Bad Things Happen to Good People |
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It may be
quite possible that we are not necessarily undergoing 'unresolved loss' when a past death comes up for us. Instead, this could be our opportunity to experience the older loss in a different light, one with some perspective and yes, even wisdom. Even if the feelings that come up are quite painful, this may not mean that you didn't do 'grief work' right the first time! It may just be that now is the time for you to experience that loss and your current one at a deeper level, given who you are today and what you now know about yourself. Many of us still have parts of our losses that may remain on some level 'unresolved.' However, a more empowering notion is to recognize that triggers of prior losses may mean that we can re-grieve, healthily and holistically. We may still be asking sometimes unanswerable questions about older losses, but perhaps how we ask them has changed significantly. And perhaps we have a greater comfort level for these questions being unanswered. And perhaps, we have a greater tolerance for ourselves in not having all the answers. -- Joan Hummel, Bereavement Magazine , March/April 2004 Reprinted with permission from Bereavement Publishing, Inc. (888-604-4673) |
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Grief
knits two hearts in closer bonds than happiness ever can; and common sufferings are far stronger links than common joys. -- Alphonse de Lamartine |
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For a long
time I was obsessed with why Mitch had ended his life. I thought that I needed to discover the real cause of his hopelessness. I studied and analyzed what I believed to be his suicide note . . . Finally, I perceived that a death by suicide is a result of factors too numerous to count. I wanted to know why, but I didn't have to have an answer in order to go on living my own life. Even the most experienced and astute investigators are finally forced to make what at best is only an educated guess. It is important, however, to ask why. It is important to worry about why, because one finally exhausts possibility after possibility and ultimately one tires of the fruitless search. Then it is time to let it go and to start healing.
-- Iris Bolton |
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it seems
odd that time does not put distance between us, but there is no distance, no space, no place that you are not. your presence fills my emptiness . . . but still i miss you -- the you I thought you were -- the you who left that warm july morning while we sat crying and begging for miracles. i didn't know then that you were so much more than that which died and i didn't understand that miracles sometimes come in disguise. you have taught me lessons of the soul and given me reasons to stay . . . but still i miss you -- the you i thought you were.
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© 2004 by Sandy Goodman |
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What does
"letting go" mean? This phrase is often misunderstood. Does it mean forgetting, letting go of our memories? Not at all. Does it mean letting go of a relationship with our deceased loved ones? No! Our relationship is changed, not ended. "Letting go" refers to the time in our healing journey when we are ready to gently open our tightly closed fists. In doing so we let go of our pain. We do not need it anymore.
--
Sandi Caplan and Gordon Lang, |
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People's
voices continue to be heard after death in the traces of their utterances, in other people's speaking, and in ongoing responses to their words. For the living, this means that, to the degree that we continue to respond to the meanings generated in conversation with someone before they died, those meanings continue to live on. In a quite tangible sense, people can live on after death in and through words and our relationships with the dead need not be considered closed with the nailing down of the lid of a coffin.
-- Lorraine Hedtke and John Winslade, in |
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If
closure means moving on and leaving the memory of [my granddaughter] behind, then I will never have closure. Maddy is a very significant part of me, and I will carry her along for the rest of my life journey. She resides within my heart, and as such she will never be "gotten over." Maddy’s death cannot be resolved, nor can my grief over the void in my family. To resolve, to let go, to move on, means denying my family history. Not only does that diminish Maddy, it diminishes who I am and my place in the world . . . It is perfectly normal to search for a continued connection with my granddaughter. It is neither pathological nor dysfunctional to think about her, to miss her, and to talk about her . . . Once I started thinking about the word renewal and all its implications, I felt a sense of calm. I was able to cease my internal struggle over our society’s perception that death is something to be gotten over. I could invest my energy in discovering not only how to incorporate the stillbirth experience into my being, but also the life lessons. I could actively look for ways to honor and memorialize Maddy. She had no visible presence in the world, but I do. My thoughts, my actions, and my words can ensure that she will not be forgotten. I am able to explore and appreciate things in a new way and no longer believe in coincidence . . . It wasn’t until I finally stopped intellectualizing and questioning the possibility of a spiritual connection with Maddy that I was able to accept the warm certainty of her presence.
--
Nina Bennett, in |
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Playing
with Three Strings
We
have seen Yitzhak Perlman
He
takes his seat, unhinges the clasps of his legs,
On
one occasion one of his violin strings broke.
With
three strings, he modulated, changed and
The
audience screamed with delight,
A
legacy mightier than a concert. -- Rabbi Harold M. Schulweis |
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You cannot
prevent the birds of sorrow from
flying overhead, but you can prevent them from making nests in your hair. -- Chinese Proverb |
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Hold on to
what is good even if it is a handful of earth. Hold on to what you believe even if it is a tree which stands by itself. Hold on to what you must do even if it is a long way from here. Hold on to life even when it is easier letting go. Hold on to my hand even when I have gone away from you. -- Pueblo Blessing |
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Widow
Watching Widow "Fine," I hear her say. "I'm just fine." And mourners hug her shoulders, Pat her hand. I stand near the coffee and watch the gathering. Her smile falters; Her composure is complete, A feat, I think, of fear and fatigue. How can I warn her That the numbness leaves And agony becomes one's bedfellow As anger roosts in the breast? Now is not the best Time for reality. But when the friends and family Have all gone away, And her house is naked In its emptiness, Then, then I'll visit -- For tea, and trust, and truthtelling.
--
Janet Muller Benway,
Bereavement Magazine
, March/April 2003 |
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Please See
Me Through My Tears
You
asked, "How are you doing?" – Kelly Osmont, MSW,
LCSW, CGP, in Reprinted with permission of the publisher. |
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Whether
they are the result of joy or sorrow, tears are a response to emotions for which we can find no words. They reveal our most vulnerable self. When we cry we are releasing the pain of the loss, not the memory of the one we cherish. The most dramatic rainbows seem to follow the most severe storms. Now when my eyes overflow, I use a guided imagery technique to visualize my tears washing away the pain that I carry inside my heart and soul. And when they finally stop, I look for the brilliant rainbow of love and hope.
–
Nina Bennett, in |
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Author Jane Howard Samuels describing the agonizing pain of grief:
And right
now,
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Jane Howard Samuels, in Wombmates |
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In our
circle, we noticed that the temptation can exist for Christians to sugarcoat everything and act like bad things are really good things in disguise. "Gifts come in all kinds of packages," someone said to me recently in reference to the painful things we face in life. I don't think I will ever reach a place where I could consider [my son] Seth's death a "gift" any more than I consider rape or child abductions, terrorist attacks, murder, genocide, or famine "gifts." While it is true that the strength or the insight we gain from God to get through these times could be considered as gifts, the event itself is not, and I believe that God grieves just as much as we do. Why can't we just admit that painful things are painful? Why can't we just sit down with people and cry along with them as we admit that what happened is cause for tears? We don't need people to rush in and frantically try to wrap it all up pretty with a bow, like it is something we should savor. In time, we may see goodness that seeped out of badness, but we should leave it to God to show us that, when our eyes are not so full of tears and we can see more clearly.
--
Elizabeth A. Price, in "Helping the Bereaved: A Few Basic
Rules" |
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When
we’ve changed our religious views or political convictions,
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