On Grief

Have you suffered from the loss of a loved one and found it difficult?

Do you feel like you are going crazy?

Are you exhausted from holding it all in?

Are there times when you feel completely lost?

Are you angry with God?

Do you feel resentful that life is going on for everyone else?

If you have had a recent loss or an old loss, what you experience is common with other people. We lay your burden down for a while and learn how to grieve in a healthy way.

Grief never really goes away, but it can be turned into something different. A grief coach will help you acquire tools that can bring some relief immediately. And you will learn how to strengthen and deepen your relationship with the Lord, because He understands grief; His son was murdered on a cross.

Grief recovery coaching is not so much about death, but how to live a life of hope and with the fullness our Father intends for you. Time doesn’t heal wounds, but our Lord and Savior can.

LOSS—Definition

Loss is the absence of that to which one attributes personal value, either perceived or real, and was at one time in the person’s possession or was anticipated to be in his or her possession.

CRISIS—Definition

A crisis is a turning point in life, often precipitated by loss. It is defined in the Merriam-Webster Online Dictionary as:

1 a: the turning point for better or worse in an acute disease or fever b: a paroxysmal attack of pain, distress, or disordered function c: an emotionally significant event or radical change of status in a person's life <a midlife crisis> 2: the decisive moment (as in a literary plot) 3 a: an unstable or crucial time or state of affairs in which a decisive change is impending; especially: one with the distinct possibility of a highly undesirable outcome <a financial crisis> b: a situation that has reached a critical phase <the environmental crisis>

“I’ve heard crisis defined this way: Something of consequence which arises unexpectedly, demanding immediate attention, accompanied by intense feelings.” Virgil Fry – Disrupted

Crises are characterized by three specific factors:

1. They arrive with a suddenness that was not anticipated (even if they should have been).

2. They carry major consequences.

3. They exist in an area of importance to the life of the one in crisis.

How We React

(See chart handout) We react to crisis situations with all of our being. Crises impact our emotional, spiritual, mental, and physical dimensions. Physically, we may experience the “fight or flight” response, begin to feel ill, sweat, etc. Emotionally, it is not unusual to experience the whole range of emotions from anger to fear and anxiety. Mentally, there may be a period of depression, disorientation, varying levels of irritation, etc. Spiritually, we may be challenged to question the goodness or presence of God. We groan, “Why me?”

People suffering loss or crisis find themselves existing between an “old normal” and a “new normal,” the middle ground between what was and what can be.

The Old Normal

I can remember the old normal clearly. I had a wife, one daughter, and two sons. We had recently purchased our dream home, our forever home. We would have family over, and they would enjoy grilling by the pool. My daughter was the oldest and about to graduate from college, and her brother was going to graduate from high school that same spring. The youngest was entering middle school, and I had started working at what would become my dream job and taken command of my first company in the Army National Guard. Life was good.

In 2013, I lay on a float in the middle of the pool, listening to the music and the happy family banter as my parents, siblings, and some extended family enjoyed celebrating our new home. I had survived two deployments relatively unscathed and was reflecting on how good God had been to me. I felt like I had lived a charmed life.

It was the night of May 5, 2014, and my wife, Maria, and I were sound asleep in bed. Around 2:00 am, we were awakened by a loud knocking at our front door and a ringing of the doorbell. We were immediately up and alert; we knew it couldn’t be good. The last time we were awakened this way, our son, Remington, had flipped his car just two miles down the road we live on. He was badly shaken but only slightly hurt. I feared it was him, and it might be worse this time.

We opened the door, and two deputies were at the door just like last time. But this time, we knew it was worse because there was a civilian standing with them. In a somber voice, one of the deputies asked if they could come in. I am not sure what we said; my mind was racing back and forth, and I didn’t know what to think. I was somewhere between preparing for the worst and wondering what the purpose of this visit was. I was positive that Remington was badly hurt, and our presence was required at the hospital.

I don’t remember anything I said to them. I think we exchanged some simple pleasantries and introductions. I do strongly remember both of us being asked to sit down. Maria sat in her usual spot on the couch, and I sat on the love seat. We were sitting on the edge with our knees pointing perpendicular to one another and almost touching. The civilian squatted in front of us and placed a hand on each of our knees. He quickly introduced himself and got straight to the point of his late-night visit. In a calm voice, he started, “There is no good way of saying this.” he drew a deep breath, “Anastasia is dead.”

Bam.

The deputies stood looking on in the quiet, dimly lit den. I often wonder how many times they have witnessed this scene, this distasteful part of duty, bringing tragic news to parents in the middle of the night?

We calmly asked, “What happened?” He explained that it was a single-car accident on I-40 westbound. Maria was asking most of the questions, and I was observing her reaction. We both remained calm, and both of us were too stunned to really show any emotion. He calmly kept repeating “Jesus, Jesus, Jesus” as we tried to wrap our minds around the news we just received.  A maelstrom of emotions flooded the mind with all the immediate questions and appeals to God—imagine; a hundred questions, prayers, and petitions hitting the mind all at once. God give us peace and courage.

The New Normal

That scene is not so vivid anymore. I don’t dwell on it. I never really did. It was too awful. It has been over ten years since Anastasia was killed. Sometimes when I talk about it, I still get choked up. My grief is still there; it still hurts, but I live with it. There was a time when I didn’t think I would ever laugh again. And for a long time, I didn’t know that I had stopped breathing until one day on a mission trip to Kenya, I befriended a little girl who taught me how to breathe again.

Today, I live with the new normal. Life is pretty much like it was before, but for that big ol’ hole in my heart where my daughter lived. Her memory lives there now. And since then, I have lost my mother, my grandmother, my father, and several close friends. It still amazes me that I have the same reactions with each one. Grief hits, and hits again, and will sap your energy, your ability to think, and leave you with a general numbness.

What I learned from GriefShare has been of tremendous help because grief doesn’t cripple me anymore. I have found that joy and grief can coexist, and I want to teach others how this is possible because life is meant to be lived.