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Friends United Meeting |
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November 1998
"I Am Not Healed Yet!"
By Jay W. Marshall
"I don't want this group to end. I'm not healed yet!" Statements rarely come more honest and forthright than that. These words were voiced by a recently widowed woman, in her seventies. She was one of twenty individuals who had just completed a six-week seminar designed to help persons cope with grief and loss arising from the death of a loved one. The woman was right! She wasn't "healed yet." So, she returned the next time we offered the group. Apparently, twice was sufficient. She is now moving forward, forever scarred, but adjusted and determined to enjoy the remainder of her life.
"Grief work is not a pretty ministry, but someone needs to do it." That aptly describes my feeling about the grief support ministry offered by New Castle Friends. Many people acknowledge it is sorely needed in our community, but the line of volunteers to assist and promote such a task is a short one. Twice a year, we offer a six-week group designed to help individuals cope with their grief, understand the experience as a process, and move to a place of health and restoration. It is not glamorous work, but it is a priceless ministry.
After having facilitated several of these groups, I am not sure which is more difficult: dying, or living after someone you love has died. I am convinced of one thing, though. As a general rule, grieving people need better support and care than our culture, and even our meetings and churches, usually offer. Death is often feared, or at least ignored. Being one who loves life, I understand the tendency to postpone thinking about the more sobering aspects of life, like mortality. About two years ago, my wife and I selected funeral plots as a way of acknowledging that life as we know it will end at some point.
Our cultural, as well as our personal, reluctance to deal with death-related issues reduces our capacity to tend to those who have recently said difficult good-byes to people who were "weighty" influences in their lives. In a usual scenario, families proceed through funeral events as orderly and calmly as possible, even though wellsprings of chaos and tears churn beneath the surface. Wellwishers and caregivers maintain contact with the bereaved family for a few weeks, but then move on with other tasks. One young woman, still grappling with her mother's recent death, shared that within a couple of weeks after the funeral, her husband grew impatient that she could not just "get over it and accept that life goes on." As a result of sentiment such as this, grieving people frequently encounter a wall of silence which is interpreted as either a lack of understanding or a statement about their own abnormality.
Though we all grieve differently, it is unlikely that a person can "get over it" in a couple of weeks. Ever since Kubler-Ross popularized her model of the stages of grief, people have had categories with which to describe aspects of bereavement. However, intellectual description is different than actually acknowledging and sharing another person's experience. It is analogous to the difference between naming what plays are showing on Broadway, and actually attending a performance. We best help others, not by describing what it will be like for them, but by accompanying them on their journey, listening to what their grief feels like, and eventually assisting them in their discovery of hope and joy that survives the ocean of tears and pain.
Within the support groups at New Castle Friends, recurring themes have emerged as we listen to grief-stricken individuals. Widows and widowers frequently express that "the worst thing about this [their loss] is the loneliness." Or, "I don't have anyone to laugh with anymore." Children who bury their parents are often shocked at how much they feel like an orphan. Adult children miss having a father or mother to call for advice, even if they have not asked for such guidance in years! Parents whose children die prematurely feel as though a portion of their heart has been ripped out. Broken dreams and disappointed hopes join the flowers left to commemorate the grave. "Parents shouldn't have to bury their children," they say.
Other recurring themes do not express grief as much as they exhibit disappointment at certain people's responses to them. These include: "Nobody will talk to me anymore." Or, "I feel like I've done something wrong." Or, "Where are my friends? Why won't anyone listen to me talk about death?" Grieving people are frequently surprised when friends resume normal routines, seemingly unaffected by this event which has been nothing short of cataclysmic for the bereaved individual.
Beyond these common themes, each group brings with it a host of usual experiences. Some recount physical symptoms in their bodies that mimicked the pain suffered by the recently deceased. A person whose mate died of a heart attack described tightness in his chest. A child whose parent died of cancer experienced back pain in the same location as her mother's disease. Others described depression and lethargy, or wondered about loss of appetite. One person found it challenging to get out of bed in the morning, whereas someone else discovered it was nearly impossible to stay at home. One woman's greatest dilemma was learning to deal with her children who did not like the fact that she was dating so quickly after the funeral! Occasionally, questions arise regarding the significance of dreams about a spouse, parent, or child.
While everyone grieves differently, these are a few common experiences that leave people in need of care long after the friends have gone and the flowers have faded. Therein lies our challenge. How do faith communities assist people whose emotions have been turned inside out? What do we do for those whose hearts feel like they are clamped in a vise, with no relief in sight? How do we help those who seem to stumble through the mental fog that settles in, making even the most routine tasks seem formidable? What do we say to those who lament the silent home that greets them at day's end, or who detest the empty bed where they seek a good night's rest?
Truthfully, there are no words capable of healing such heartache. At New Castle Friends, we have come to recognize that explanations are not usually wanted. However, words of comfort and a willingness to listen are like balm made for the wounded spirit. Explanations, rationalizations, and clichés generally fall far short of their intended mark. In contrast, people truly appreciate a safe place to admit they are grieving souls. Many treasure the opportunity to uncork their pain and pour out their sadness with a mixture of words and tears in a setting where no one feels compelled to challenge another's need or right to be sad.
Not everyone bares their soul in these groups, however. Some individuals say very little during our time together. They seem to be comforted simply by being with others who are like them in one glaring way. It is as though the mere hearing of other people's stories and experiences confirms their own journeys. Simply being part of the group is enough for them. It is helpful to be reminded they are not alone.
Providing a place for discussion and support is probably the greatest service of our bereavement group, but education and direction are also high on our list of priorities. First and foremost, we encourage people to "tell their story" over and over and over. Glen Davidson's book, Understanding Mourning: A Guide for Those Who Grieve, (Augsburg, 1984) is a good resource for understanding the value of talking about the grief experience. I describe it as a refinement process, like knocking off the sharp edges until the rough rock becomes a polished stone. As the story is continually retold, the grieving individual comes to understand his or her condition, and the significance of the events that have recently transpired. Gradually, the sense of loss ceases to dominate their lives, though it will forever be a significant part of their personal histories.
During our time together, we also introduce various models that describe the grief process, for two reasons. First, it is a mode of understanding and describing grieving individuals' reactions to what is happening in their lives. More importantly, it provides entry points for people to evaluate and discuss their experience.
Some attention is given to self-care, even though much of what is said are lessons learned as early as kindergarten. Eat well. Exercise. Get sufficient rest. Listen to your body and also to your spirit, because they do give clues as to what you need.
We also spend time talking about God and faith in relation to death and grief. Frequently, people defend God's ability to have affected a different outcome. I gently point out that God could have, but God didn't. Given that fact, how has God been part of this experience? People frequently need to make a theological shift to benefit from God's love and grace in a time of grief. It is a move away from defending God as "Protector" to appreciating God as "Present Comforter." Grieving people need a healer more than they need a shield. Interestingly, this topic is frequently referred to as a "favorite" by participants.
Most of all, we strive to teach that grief is a process, not an event. While there are some common, expected, stages, there is no real "normal" process. Every case is different, and they all take a while. A lot of grief work is, simply put, "the pits. " It is miserable and depressing. But whether long or short, difficult or merely mildly irritating, grief is best faced rather than ignored.
It has been said that "time heals all wounds." The truth is that time does not heal anything. Time merely passes. It is what we do during the passing of time that helps or hinders the healing process. Engaging in groups such as this one has proven to be a rewarding use of time for many people. Participants leave with a sense of being touched by God. They go forth, knowing they are not abnormal, and that life will get better. They depart with an appreciation of memories, even if painful. Best of all, some are even discovering they can smile and laugh again.
God's grace is truly sufficient in our time of need, and grief wounds can be healedespecially if the body of believers learns to play a supporting role.
Jay Marshall is the new dean of the Earlham School of Religion and was pastor of New Castle Friends, Indiana Yearly Meeting at the time he wrote this article last Spring.
Copyright (c) 1998 Friends United Meeting
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