Reconciling the ugly reality of grief

Photo by Milan Popovic on Unsplash

Here’s an honest albeit politically incorrect thought, with my sincere apologies in advance.

There are times when I feel this so intensely, though I don’t always feel it so acutely, but I do always feel it to some extent. Here is my thought:

I’m sorry,
but I cannot easily celebrate
your new baby or Grand-baby with you.
Your joy reminds me too much of what we lost.

You may not understand. You may call me selfish if you like, ‘still-in-need-of-healing’, or inconsiderate, even envious. You would be right. It would appear that way. You may think all sorts of other things about me for having shared my thought. You wouldn’t be wrong.

This is why my thought is politically incorrect. Our social media world is alight with wonderful stories of births, weddings, anniversaries, birthdays, graduations, come-from-behind hero stories, new discoveries, miraculous recoveries, brave plans, and other fantastic achievements.

Rarely is it awash with painful stories, yet there are so many posts about healing and the courage it takes to heal. In other words, stories etched in pain yet redeemed with a happy, inspirational ending, or the courage shown to endure (in other words, inspiring).

People (especially Christians) don’t want mopey stories. Yet, half the world (literally) regales in that exact state, so many in a constant need of escape, never realising that facing the state is the only escape. Not under or over or around, but through. It’s the only way, yet only one in one hundred embarks upon the journey.

When I say I cannot celebrate with you, I do attempt to, and I may even ‘love’ your news, but there’s a part inside me that faces the equally-opposite truth — we lost our precious baby, and though I still have four other children, they can’t make up for the one we lost. Sorry. It’s our experience. It’s our reality, and it’s the reality of any and all (okay… most) who have borne loss.

I know literally hundreds who have lost children, partners, parents, marriages, careers, dreams. Every single one of these losses is a tragedy. It’s a state of being that never shifts and never changes and can never be truly reconciled if it can’t be restored. There’s a gap you must get used to. When others celebrate what you can never have it leaves a bitter taste in your mouth. And it’s understandable.

We’re not ‘bad’ to not feel good for another,
though we do have the choice to love anyway.

We can overcome the way we think, but the way we feel is sacrosanct and it’s not to be judged.

Indeed, it’s only as we face what we feel honestly, without judging ourselves, which is shame, that we may hear God say, “I feel you, I love you, and I give you the power to overcome the paralysis preventing you from rejoicing with those who are rejoicing.”

God knows what we’re feeling. He designed us this way. To love is to experience loss, and to experience loss is the testament to our love. From love there can be no other way of response.

So, in the manner of debunking our shame, because we accept others celebrating can mean we reexperience our grief, we feel met by God, and therefore the grace of a loving response is given to us.

It is such a blessing to be honest. God never blesses anyone more than the honest person.

Honesty overcomes the fear of what others think of us, and with courageous vulnerability, lives life as the dress rehearsal for meeting Jesus one day, where all secret things will no longer be hidden.

Blessed are those who live in a way that accepts that there are no secret things.