There is no quick fix for a broken heart. No remedy for missing someone you love.
Instead, grief is a process.
It’s a lifelong journey of remaking a relationship that can no longer depend on physical presence and new memories.
It circles back again and again, asking the same questions, sometimes finding new answers but often having to settle for the old ones.
Read the rest here: Not a State But a Process
I read A GRIEF OBSERVED in my 30’s as another in a long list of “Books You Should Read”. I gleaned a bit here or there that I thought might be of use later on.
But when Dominic ran ahead to heaven, it was the first book on grief I bought for myself and I read it like a starving man set down to a full table.
This passage, in particular, was helpful in understanding how my absolute trust in the FACT of ultimate redemption of my pain and sorrow did absolutely NOTHING to take away the pain and sorrow-it only made it bearable.
If a mother is mourning not for what she has lost but for what her dead child has lost, it is a comfort to believe that the child has not lost the end for which it was created. And it is a comfort to believe that she herself, in losing her chief or only natural happiness, has not lost a greater thing, that she may still hope to “glorify God and enjoy Him forever.” A comfort to the God-aimed, eternal spirit within her. But not to her motherhood. The specifically maternal happiness must be written off. Never, in any place or time, will she have her son on her knees, or bathe him, or tell him a story, or plan for his future, or see her grandchild.
C. S. Lewis, A Grief Observed
Read the rest here: https://thelifeididntchoose.com/2018/04/29/wisdom-from-c-s-lewis/
I was surprised to find that this journey is not straight ahead, one foot in front of the other onto a predetermined destination.
Instead it’s a winding path with lots of switchbacks, circles and I often get lost in territory I have passed through before.
I am, in large measure, at the mercy of my heart.
❤
I don’t cry nearly as much as I used to.
I’m not sure if it’s because I feel the need less often or because I’m just better at holding the tears at bay. But when I do, it’s pretty ugly.
My heart is still broken.
My soul still cries out for the child I carried in my womb and mothered for nearly 24 years.
Read the rest here: https://thelifeididntchoose.com/2017/04/06/again-and-again/
I wrote this last year about this time. As I approach the six anniversary of Dom’s leaving, it still describes my journey.
We want grief to be something we can work through, get over, move past, neatly incorporate into our present life without untidy ends poking out all over.
But it’s not.
It’s an ongoing process that sometimes takes more energy and effort and sometimes less but always drawing away some resources from the here and now.
Melanie ❤
C. S. Lewis gave voice to so much of human experience in ways that help us understand ourselves and one another.
His book, Mere Christianity, began as a series of radio talks that were later compiled, published and sold millions and millions of copies.
I think Lewis managed to use a conversational, inviting voice in all his works.
When I read them I feel like I’m chatting with a friend (granted, an extremely erudite friend!). He and I are discussing a thing, reasoning through it together.
He’s not teaching me something, he’s guiding me to learn it for myself.
Read the rest here: https://thelifeididntchoose.com/2019/04/05/not-a-state-but-a-process/
I think it was somewhere around two months from Dominic’s departure when my heart realized life was moving forward whether I granted permission or not.
Not only folks on the fringes and the “bigger world out there” but close by-in my own family, my own circle of intimate friends-people were making plans, having birthdays, going places and doing things.
I wanted to scream.
Could the world not take more notice that it was absolutely NOT business as usual? Was I the only one whose heart was so shattered that the thought of another sunrise was painful? How could I walk into a future that didn’t include Dominic?
By the grace of God, I did it.
No one can keep the world from turning, the sun from rising, time from ticking by.
But it took a great deal of strength and courage.
First it was a “grin and bear it” kind of courage. I strapped on my armor and tucked a hankie in my pocket. I could show up and smile (a bit), talk (awhile) and muddle through.
Sometimes it didn’t go so well. I had to apologize and leave early. And I was always exhausted.
Then it was an “I’m going to be present for my family” kind of courage. The last thing I wanted to do was shortchange my earthbound children. I worked to get a better handle on my thoughts and emotions. I learned how to pre-grieve major events and milestones. I found I could bring Dom with me by wearing a meaningful piece of jewelry or tucking a keepsake away where I could touch it if I needed to.
I was able to laugh (most of the time), make small talk and write dates on the calendar again.
Now the courage that helps me hold on as I’m pulled forward into the future is informed by the fact that every passing day is one day closer to the reunion my heart longs for. What first seemed impossible is now habitual. Sorrow and joy can coexist. I don’t have to be empty of one to feel the other. The future is not my enemy-it’s where I can and will love ALL my children, husband, family and friends well until the day we are in eternity together forever.
My love for Dominic is Background Music to everything I do. But it doesn’t always demand my full attention. Sorrow is no longer all I feel and Dominic’s absence no longer all I see.
Sunrise is still hard to face some days.
My heart will always long for the time things were as they should be instead of how they are.
But I’m thankful for the courage to step into the future even when I’m afraid.
I honestly thought I had a fairly accurate and well-rounded theological grid before Dominic ran ahead to heaven.
I had studied Scripture diligently for over 25 years, read extensively, engaged in active and insightful conversation with thoughtful believers and swallowed some difficult truths.
But when faced with my child’s untimely and sudden death, I realized that I had also swallowed some untruths and half-truths.
I thought I had God figured out, that I knew how He worked in the world and that I was definitely on the inside track to gain His favor and blessing.
I was wrong.
I wrote this a couple years ago, but it is something I have to come back to over and over in this Valley of the Shadow of Death:
Every idea of [God] we form, He must in mercy shatter. The most blessed result of prayer would be to rise thinking ‘But I never knew before. I never dreamed…’ I suppose it was at such a moment that Thomas Aquinas said of all his own theology, ‘It reminds me of straw.’
—Letters to Malcolm: Chiefly on Prayer (1964)
It’s possible that you haven’t thought of it this way, but if you are a believer in Christ and have yet to walk through faith-shattering trials, you may have placed God in a box.
I know I had.
Read the rest here: God in a Box
C.S.Lewis was an amazing man who died one day before I was born and just three years after his beloved wife ran to heaven ahead of him.
In these later years I’ve often wondered how much grief played a role in his departure.
I have appreciated his books for decades. Shared them with others and spent hours reading The Chronicles of Narnia series to my children.
He is a family staple.
But he can be a bit hard to understand at times-his rich background studying literature informed his own writing style. So I often have to tease apart longer quotes to get at the meat of what he’s saying.
It’s always worth it.
I read A GRIEF OBSERVED in my 30’s as another in a long list of “Books You Should Read”. I gleaned a bit here or there that I thought might be of use later on.
But when Dominic ran ahead to heaven, it was the first book on grief I bought for myself and I read it like a starving man set down to a full table.
This passage, in particular, was helpful in understanding how my absolute trust in the FACT of ultimate redemption of my pain and sorrow did absolutely NOTHING to take away the pain and sorrow-it only made it bearable.
If a mother is mourning not for what she has lost but for what her dead child has lost, it is a comfort to believe that the child has not lost the end for which it was created. And it is a comfort to believe that she herself, in losing her chief or only natural happiness, has not lost a greater thing, that she may still hope to “glorify God and enjoy Him forever.” A comfort to the God-aimed, eternal spirit within her. But not to her motherhood. The specifically maternal happiness must be written off. Never, in any place or time, will she have her son on her knees, or bathe him, or tell him a story, or plan for his future, or see her grandchild.
~C. S. Lewis, A Grief Observed
My son is safe in the arms of Jesus. And that is a comfort.
And I, trusting in that truth and leaning into my faith in Christ, am also comforted that even here, in the Valley of the Shadow of Death, am safe in the arms of Jesus. I may FEEL lost, but I am NOT lost.
But-and here’s the experiential truth that separates those of us who experience the REALITY of child loss from those that IMAGINE it-my mother’s heart is denied the presence of my son for the rest of my earthly days.
All the things I had hoped for, dreamt of and expected to experience are robbed from me.
There is no remedy for that.
Absolutely none.
