{good?} GRIEF

I am so hopeful that everyone reading this will know where the title of this post comes from. If you don’t though - I suppose I will entertain that thought - it comes from Charlie Brown. This simple expression “Good Grief!” is wailed or lamented whenever something goes amiss in Charlie’s life. It quickly became his catchphrase across the comics and cartoons over the years; now you can find it on pillows, cards, mugs, many types of memorabilia. In fact, my husband has a mug that has Charlie’s face on it and a communication bubble that says “good grief!”, the humor of which is that the handle of said mug has broken not once, but twice, at least in his years of ownership and has had to be re-glued together to continue to be usable… Good grief

I’m almost positive of 1 thing, and that is that every one of us reading this has experienced grief on some level. When I hear the word grief, I go to the big things: death, and loss. I’m sure you do too. Grief is crushing, grief is full of anguish, grief is big enough that most decent places of work, or business allow you time off work to process in the beginning because it is confusing, disorienting, and painful. Grief is… good? Grief is natural, for sure, a common way to unite people, something we can all agree to avoid when possible. But, grief is… good? From experience, grief comes in waves. At first, large, powerful, crushing waves, cresting and crashing within the same second, so you cannot tell one from the next. Then, progressing to some “turbulence”. Your boat is able to float without taking on water, but the waves make it so that you have to keep your stance wide, and focus on not falling overboard. Eventually, over time, you can go about tasks on the boat: sweeping, mopping, fishing if you need, but every now and again you see the waves making their way to you and you brace to take them on, but you can go back to your tasks with some ease. Later, you’re back to all your boating duties, you smile when you think about the storms you’ve weathered in your trusty vessel, but occasionally, you think about the storms you’ve faced and you feel the pain and fear of the storm all over again. And if you’re anything like me, sometimes you find a little wave of grief swell up from seemingly nowhere.

I would argue grief also comes from shattered expectations. And not just the expectation of getting ice cream and then the shop being closed when you get there. Not disappointment, but truly shattered expectations. For example, you’re expecting to have a healthy child, and they are diagnosed with down syndrome. You continue to be committed to that child and loving them and raising them well, but you acknowledge that their life will have challenges that you will have to help them face. There is a grieving process for coming to terms with what that may now look like. You expected to be in love with your partner forever, or friends with this person to weather the storms of life together; but people and circumstances change and you end the relationship. You grieve the closeness of what you have lost, and learn to find those needs met in other ways. You expect to go about your day unscathed and unharmed but you find yourself being sexually assaulted, in a car accident, witnessing a traumatic event. You must grieve the innocence, or goodness you felt for the world, lost in those moments. You have to pick up the pieces of yourself to move on, knowing you may never see things the same way again. These things have their waves as well. A constant in your life whether it's currently rearing its ugly head, or is a subtle and manageable hum in your brain.

So, the only good part seems like the part at the end when it’s manageable, right? (Notice I didn’t say ‘over’, because I don’t think grief is ever gotten over.) I would argue, you can find some good in grief if you choose to. Please do not read that by simply changing your perspective you can avoid feeling grief; I am not saying that by any means. I’m saying, there can be good found even in the hurting if you look at what you find in the darkest moments. In the darkest places of my grief in the past, I found people. The tribe, the group, the community you have built for yourself often rallies around you. You find people reaching out, offering to help, offering an ear, or a hug, or just to sit with you so you are not alone. How good. You find memories, and stories. Sitting with the tribe of people who also loved this person, you remember the very best of their life and how they touched people. How good. A huge “good” I try to focus on is that my grief tells me I felt something good, once. I felt deep love, or deep connection to another person, and that is why my grief is so crushing at the loss of the person. Why not celebrate that you were blessed with that relationship and connection for however long you had it. If you haven’t seen WandaVision on Disney+, you should watch it. But, one of the main characters, Vision delivers a poignant short monologue about grief. It goes something like this:

“...because it can’t all be sorrow, can it? I’ve always been alone, so I don’t feel the lack, it’s all I’ve ever known. I’ve never experienced loss because I’ve never had a loved one to lose. But what is grief, if not love, persevering?”

Our grief is just our love persevering, continuing on, going past the bounds of the mortality because we weren’t done with those emotions yet. We weren’t done loving that person yet. Grief is found in all of those “what ifs” that come about when we think about the places they should be, the conversations we should be able to be having with them, etc. I don’t know about you, but I find that sentiment beautiful. That we are able to feel things so deeply for another person, because let’s face it, being in relationships with other humans on any level is messy. It’s difficult. It takes time and patience. It takes perseverance in itself. So why not celebrate that we have been there, seen that, experienced that so deeply that we are now wrecked by its ceasing ability to be reciprocated or built further upon.

Please again hear me when I say this is not a way to circumvent, lessen, or be freed from grief. I choose to use “good grief” as a lament, or a prayer for those that suffer. If you are in a situation and it feels like you don’t know where to go next, you are crushed by your grief, you feel alone… good grief - I pray you find some good in the midst. I pray the wave that currently crushes you will subside quickly so you can breathe. I lament with you in your suffering, because I too have ridden, and am riding the waves day in and day out. May you never feel that the grief is too much, or that you are alone... good grief. So for you, dear reader, when there are no other words to speak, speak “good grief” and remember that you are human, dealing with bigger than life, love persevering feelings. And that is OK. You will be OK.

When people pacify your suffering and heartache with platitudes such as: “everything happens for a reason” or “it must not have been God’s plan”... Good grief

When your child has been diagnosed with a syndrome, or disorder that will drastically change their outlook and future abilities… Good grief

When you’re going about your day and a comment or event reminds you of your trauma or loss and you lash out, misdirecting your anger and hurt to a person or object that does not deserve it… Good grief

When you are silently suffering the loss of a child whether lost at 6 weeks gestation, birth, 12, or 47 years old… Good grief

When you realize you weren’t the best teacher, friend, parent, coach, co-worker, pastor, “fill in the blank here” you could have been today and you make a promise to yourself to do better tomorrow… Good grief

When you’ve spoken about your loved one who has passed 4 times today without tearing up, truly believing you are moving into the better parts of loss where you can remember them well and share the best parts with others - but the 5th time makes you crumble into a tear-filled mess… Good grief

When your mother, or grandmother suffers a stroke, or shows symptoms of dementia where you know you will slowly watch them wither away, even before their hearts are finished beating… Good grief