WAVES OF GRIEF
WAVES OF GRIEF
(reposted from my “waking up Latina” weekly - subscribe for the updates)
As my family enters into a new season I notice a few things about grief:
I’ve not had a good relationship with grief. My wise friend, Gloria Huh (on #thearisepodcast this week) shared with me that regardless of my awareness, I’ve been building a relationship with grief. Well, she’s right. My relationship with grief is not open or welcoming. It’s stiff, resistant, and at times, hostile. I resist entering grief, fearing that I will lose control and not come back. I want to be tough, hold-it-together and get things done. That isn’t working. And, grief that I’ve been storing is throwing it’s own protest now. My body is saying, “I’ve been waiting for space to grieve! I know you cannot go anywhere, so I am shutting down until you pay attention!”
Children grieve, too. My own children are building a relationship with grief. They are learning to manage waves of sadness, disappointment, loss, and racism. It’s strange to think an 8 year old boy has a relationship with grief. He does. He misses his friends. My 10 year old girl is angry and confused. My 12 year old girl is crying. My 14 year old boy cannot believe he has to sit at a table with three of his siblings, making tons of noise, and try to concentrate on his studies.
My family as a unit has a relationship with grief. We are learning to grieve together. And, it hasn’t been pretty. We fight over nothing. Then, we find moments to laugh. We go on bike rides. We watch epic movies. We listen to sad music. We take turns crying. We sing. We read children’s books together, again. We read a Bible verse and debate its’ meaning. We take turns praying. My family has always been in a relationship with grief, but I am tending and caring better for this relationship as I tend and care for my own relationship with grief.
The communities my family is a part of have varying relationships with grief. It’s confusing. My grad school community encourages lament and open regular spaces for grief. Our local church community is emphasizing prayer and asking for donations and generosity. My coaching group offers an ear and support, checking in on my personal well-being. Local friends are now “far away” and we play games over zoom. But, are we really grieving together? It doesn’t feel like it. Some of my communities are less likely to speak regularly of their relationship with grief.
My faith has a relationship with grief. As a person of Faith, I’ve focused on hope, moving forward, working hard, living well, and justly. Well, guess what? All of that doesn’t exclude grief. It never did. Grief has been waiting. God has been waiting. Is my faith big enough to wait in the unknown, uncertainty, lack-of-hope, spaces? Do I need to drag myself out, my body out, my family out, my community out of grief because of its weightiness and gravity? Well, if I was the one responsible for carrying the load of that grief, then it is a scary-impossible thing.
I’m on a crash course of relating to my grief. I’m on a crash course of how grief and faith relate. I’m on a crash course of leading my family well, and we are learning together how to grieve. And, my relationship with grief affects my body, my children, my husband, my family unit, my community, and my faith.
There is a misconception that to acknowledge, relate, and grieve means I am living in a constant state of sadness and depression. I believe as I grieve, my faith grows. I cannot offer the answer for you, but grief for me is a pathway to hope — living in the shadow of the Almighty, protected by HIS care, provided for in the middle of powerlessness and uncertainty, a tenderness in my relationships to my body, my children, my husband, my community and those I serve.
Peace and Blessings - I am praying for all of us.