I know that several of you have no affinity for those of us who claim to be Christians. I don’t blame you. I’ll admit, we have an exceptionally bad reputation right now. I offer you no platitudes, no hollow words; to do so would be an insult to you, your loved one, and your grief. Please know that I write this to acknowledge your grief and grieve with you.
If you have experienced the loss of a loved one and you find it weighing heavy on your heart, I would like to offer you the things that helped me immediately after my father’s death. I hope you are able to receive the following in the spirit in which it is given … much like a flotation device given a friend who has fallen overboard. Grief for me feels what I imagine falling overboard at sea and being battered and tossed about to be.)
My hope and prayer is that in the midst of the roiling sea of emotions—the pain, the numbness, the rage, the uncertainty, and feelings of being adrift at sea—that you and your surviving loved ones may feel a semblance of God’s peace to sustain you, Christ’s love to ease your sorrow, and the Holy Spirit’s comfort to soothe your pain. And may all three see you safe to shore..
Eileen Hahm says:
Dear Clay,I am deeply touched by your message on grief. I can add another perspective and it is that to have loved and been loved so deeply as to experience profound grief is a magnificent gift. Grief has not visited me as much as others even with the passing of my father, mother and eldest brother and two beloved kitties. You see I am someone deeply wounded during a childhood mostly devoid of expression of love or belonging. I can say that getting beyond numbness and being able to feel and express feelings has been daunting and a life long road to travel. For someone like me there is a blessing in the grieving you capture so beautifully.With love and a hug,Eileen