“I can’t breathe!” I gasped to friends at the funeral of my grandson Geoffrey. The pressure in my chest felt unbearable. That constriction of the heart pressing on the diaphragm is true of all grieving.
Ioana Hociota, was married to Andrew Holycross. They were doing the challenging Grand Canyon thru-hike, a traverse from North to South through remote unmarked back country, when she slipped on a patch of ice and fell to her death. Kevin Fedarko makes an observation that is an essential aspect of grieving – – eventually a space will open up in the constricted heart.
“In the days immediately following Hociota’s death, he (Holycross) had formed an intense hatred toward the canyon for having taken her from him—a feeling that festered for weeks, until eventually, despite his best efforts, its grip slowly began to loosen. Eventually, with the passage of time, somewhere inside his heart a space opened in which he was able to revisit the memories of the times they had spent and the things they had done together in the world beneath the rims. And as his love for the landscape returned to him, with it came the possibility that he might consider allowing himself to return to the land.” (Kevin Fedarko. “A Walk in the Park”)
Some advised me, “Time will bring healing.” I thought to myself, “I do not want to be healed. I want to remember him, I want to honor him. I need to feel raw.” Job’s friends did the right thing: “11 When three of Job’s friends heard of the tragedy he had suffered, they got together and traveled from their homes to comfort and console him. . . . 13 Then they sat on the ground with him for seven days and nights. No one said a word to Job, for they saw that his suffering was too great for words.” (Job 2)
I rushed to the hospital the instant I heard a good friend’s 6 year old died. His best friend arrived soon after and asked me before entering the room, “What do I say?” I replied, “He will not remember what you said. He will remember you came. Just hug him.”
“Today was a Difficult Day,” said Pooh.
There was a pause.
“Do you want to talk about it?” asked Piglet.
“No,” said Pooh after a bit. “No, I don’t think I do.”
“That’s okay,” said Piglet, and he came and sat beside his friend.
“What are you doing?” asked Pooh.
“Nothing, really,” said Piglet. “Only, I know what Difficult Days are like. I quite often don’t feel like talking about it on my Difficult Days either.
“But goodness,” continued Piglet, “Difficult Days are so much easier when you know you’ve got someone there for you. And I’ll always be here for you,
How did God react?
Isaiah 41:10: “So do not fear, for I am with you; do not be dismayed, for I am your God. I will strengthen you and help you; I will uphold you with my righteous right hand.”
I rushed to the hospital the instant I heard a congregant’s 6 year old died. His best friend arrived soon after and asked me before entering the room, “What do I say?” I replied, “He will not remember what you said. He will remember you came. Just hug him.”
God’s Reassurance
I have called you by name; you are mine.
2 When you go through deep waters,
I will be with you.
When you go through rivers of difficulty,
you will not drown. Isaiah 43)
Take heart, grieving friends, space will open up, life will resume, and the raw wound will develop a beautiful scar as a constant and visible reminder of a deeply loved one; anguish will soften as joyful memories begin to replace bewilderment.
An earthquake changed the landscape, it will never be the same, but there will be a different beauty will emerge from the ravished land.
progressingpeople 