Ann Weems' Psalms of Lament

Ann Weem's Psalms of Lament is a powerful book of personal psalms that Weems wrote in response to her son's death. She speaks to God of the depth of her pain. Here is an example:
O God, even my friends
bring me books
with ten steps
to overcome grief
as though healing
comes in paperback,
and filling my times
with one-two-threes
will bring peace
to my soul
and energy to my body.
Why don't they try
to understand?
The worst of all
are those who say
I must accept his death
as though his death
is acceptable.
No!
His death is unacceptable~
And I will not be comforted!
In my suffering
I m told I must
grieve correctly.
O merciful God!
What are they doing?
Aren't we supposed
to go to you
with our tears?
Isn't it in your word
that we will be
comforted?
I come to you, Holy One,
for I know
my salvation
is not in "coping,"
but is in hope,
hope that comes
only from you.
O God, in your time
the scales will fall
from my heart
and I will see again,
and seeing, I will fall
to my knees
in thanksgiving
to you, O Gracious One,
only to you.

Cherish the memories

Grief is an act of remembering.
Sometimes the memories bring tears, sometimes the memories bring a smile and sometimes the memories even bring laughter. But, it doesn’t matter if the memories bring a chuckle or a sob, we still cherish the memories. To cherish the memories is to cherish the love. Remembering is our work as those who grieve, to remember, to never forget. That is our joy even in the midst of great sorrow; our joy is to hang onto the life that we shared, to keep the person alive in our hearts by remembering.
Grief calls us to remember, but it also calls us to reflect. Grief invites us to reflect on how our lives and the world was different because of the person we loved. Each person we remember was unique and left a unique impact on the world. No one saw the world just the way your loved one saw it. No one touched the world with his or her words and actions just the way your loved one did. No one can impact your life in the same way as your loved one did.
As we reflect on how the world is different because of that special person in our lives, we also reflect on how your world is different without the one you love.
The pain of grief is that our lives have changed with the death of a loved one, changed forever. Life can never be the same without our partner, child, sibling, parent, friend.
But that change calls us to reflect on the legacy that our loved ones have taught us. What was the essence of your loved one? Was it love? Was it faith? Was it devotion to family? Was it love of life? Was it service to others? What was the most important thing for them? What are the qualities in your loved one that you most admired and want to carry with you in your life?
Grief calls us to remember and to reflect and it also calls us to live. Grief teaches us that life is short and relationships are precious. So as you remember your loved one, live. Cherish the moments you have and the people you love. Live life to the fullest in a way that honors your loved one’s memory. So as you reflect on the mark your loved one left on you and on the world, live. Live life to the fullest in a way that will leave a mark on those you love and on the world. Remember, reflect and live.

Five Funerals and a Wedding

This week I was reminded how exhausting grief can be. Although I did not experience the death of a loved one this week, I did journey with five families who did. It drained my energy.
I once again became aware of the importance of self care in grief. Although it is the last thing one feels like doing, it is essential otherwise one cannot do the work of grief-and it is work.
A friend encouraged me to stop, to stop and to remember to feed my soul. What a gift her encouragement was to me. It got me through a very taxing week.
Stop. Breath. Discover what it takes to feed your soul.

The offensiveness of death

Some deaths are a welcomed friend; when the cycle of suffering is broken, when the slow deterioration has ended. Other deaths are an offense to the natural order of things; when a parent buries a child, when unfulfilled dreams are dashed.

It is not right that death comes when there is so much living left to be done. It is not right for 20 year old students fill a sanctuary for a funeral instead of a college campus for a class. It is not right to watch a mother's heart break with a painful, permanent good bye at the graveside.

The death of a 20 year old is not a welcomed friend. It is a offensive. It is wrong, painfully wrong.

The neverness of grief

My favorite book on grief is "Lament for a Son," by Nicholas Wolterstorff. He does a masterful job at describing the raw pain of grief. This is how he describes the pain of the death of his 25 year old son who died in a mountain-climbing accident:
"When we gather now there's always someone missing, his absence is present as our presence, his silence is as loud as our speach. When we are all together, we are not all together. It is the neverness that is so painful. Never again to be here with us-never to sit with us at table, never to travel with us, never to laugh with us, never to cry with us, nerver to embrace us as he leaves for school, never to see his brothers and sister marry. All the rest of our lives we must live without him. Only our death can stop the pain of his death. One small misstep and now this endless neverness."

That names it. That is the pain. That is the raw, raw pain of grief. The neverness of death is what brings pain to the depth of our being.

My Baby is 13!

My youngest turned into a teenager today. I grieve. I grieve for the childhood moments that are mere memory. I grieve as she wishes to spend more time with friends than time with me. I grieve that her landmark birthday marks my march toward middle age.

Head and Heart

Grief is a process of the head and heart coming together. The head knows what the heart is not yet ready to believe. It is almost 5 years since my brother died and I recently felt the head and heart split once again. It was as intense as a tree being hit by lightening. It reminded me that grief is a life long process.
My brother's widow recently adopted a baby from Kazakhstan. We had the opportunity to meet the new addition to our family as they had a brief lay over at the St. Paul/ Minneapolis Airport last week. As I held this beautiful 8 month old brown eyed boy in my arms, my heart spoke these words, "He looks just like his daddy, my brother." Then my head abruptly jarred my heart back to reality-David is not fathering children, he is dead.
Comfort briefly comes when the heart looses its memory of the death. There is pain when the head calls us back to the painful reality of the death. Grief is a long, long process of the head and the heart coming together.

Twelve Songs -IX

The death of a loved one makes life come to a screeching halt. I found the rat race of life offensive after my brother died. I wanted to yell, "Stop. Stop. Be still with me in my grief." Auden's poem, Twelve Songs - IX speaks to the screeching halt of grief.

Twelve Songs - IX

Stop all the clocks, cut off the telephone,
Prevent the dog from barking with a juicy bone,
Silence the pianos and with muffled drum
Bring out the coffin, let the mourners come.

Let aeroplanes circle moaning overhead
Scribbling on the sky the message He Is Dead,
Put crepe bows round the white necks of the public doves,
Let the traffic policemen wear black cotton gloves,

He was my North, my South, my East and West,
My working week and my Sunday rest,
My noon, my midnight, my talk, my song;
I thought that love would last for ever: I was wrong.

The stars are not wanted now: put out every one;
Pack up the moon and dismantle the sun;
Pour away the ocean and sweep up the wood;
For nothing now can ever come to any good.

W.H. Auden - April 1936

Giref is a life long journey

I friend recently recommended a book, Beloved on Earth: 150 Poems of Grief and Gratitude.
One of the poems that spoke to me was entitled, Poem in October by Andrea Hollander Budy. It reminded me that grief is our companion for a life time.
"It was my twenty-third year and heaven
broke away from my reach as I stood
at her grave. Rain carved
the morning's stone face into the earth,
and the sky grayed and lowered
until they were one. Back by the trees
men smoked, as if they had nothing
better to do. But I knew as soon as I left
they would cover even
the roses my father, brother and I
had tossed upon her as if our wishing
could do what prayer had not.
When I finally left, I thought her
gone. I am fifty-four. I was wrong.