Somewhere I picked up the grief myth: you’ll get over it.
I was so naive about deep loss. After Dan died, when life was completely shattered, I thought there would come a point where I’d be over my grief. That grief was something to move through like going through a dark tunnel where I’d emerge and leave it all the grief behind.
Maybe the grief myths I’ve been writing on this month aren’t news to you. Maybe you came into your season of grief much wiser than I did. Or you had fewer expectations – I’ve always been one to set these internal expectations for myself and then hold myself to them.
Most of our grief myths come because we don’t talk about grief in our culture. Television portrays deep losses as tragic in the moment but wrapping up with new relationships and new beginnings within an hour.
Movies and books often treat loss like having a broken leg — it hurts for a while and you’re forced to use crutches for a while but with proper treatment, the bone heals. The leg is good as new and only an x-ray would reveal the wound once there.
I thought you got over grief too — until my heart broke.
When I read books on grief in those first weeks, I’d flip to the end first. I wanted to know how the widow was doing now. Was she remarried? Were her kids doing well? Was life good again?
Experientia magistra stultorum. Experience is the teacher of fools. How foolish I was. I understand now that loss is not something you get over.
You don’t get over loss. You learn to live with it.
We grieve because we love. Not lovED, but love. You don’t stop loving someone because they died.
Love that’s forged in all the struggles, the hopes, the vulnerable shared moments, the belly laughs through tears, the fights, the make-ups, the glorious everyday ordinary.
All of it so formative. All of it slowly, daily softening the hard edges, shaping who you even are.
That doesn’t disappear. You can’t just shut it like a read book and pull out a new one. You’ve been indelibly inscribed by the one you love and the one you grieve and there’s no erasing that. There’s no shelving it. Instead, you keep the book open and learn to live past the unexpected ellipsis . . .
Grief is not the cost of a love relationship; it’s part of the love relationship.
Though we don’t get over the loss, grief does change. It lessens and lightens and becomes part of you.
In the warm memories that begin to fill the hollow aching.
In the hard, good lessons you never would have known.
In stewarding the lives left and entrusted to you.
In honoring through stories and traditions and celebrations the amazing gift they were.
In finishing well.
Grief means learning to live with the love and without the loved one.
Feeling the loss three or five or 15 years later doesn’t mean you’re stuck or you’ve done it wrong; it means you love. Don’t let anyone try to convince you that you need to get over it.
When something triggers tears, it’s because you love. When my 10-year-old crawls on my lap for a story about her dad, it’s because she loves. When you long for one more conversation, one more hug or smile – it’s because we love. If we have a thousand good days and plunge on a sad day, it’s because we love.
That love is forever part of us. What a gift.
We get to carry it forward, past the ellipses that could have tripped us altogether, and into the fullness of the rest that God has for us. We, the grievers, of all people, are foolish no more – loss is the mark that we’ve been loved and the motive to lavish our love in every page God gives us.
I am so loving this series. Thank you.
Thank you, Jen. Sometimes the best medicine is knowing that what we’re feeling is shared.
So very true! In many ways I wish grief were a checklist and I could complete each box and mark it off as done. However, grief stays with us and becomes a part of who we are forever.
Yes! That would be tidy and to do-er in us would be glad to have it behind us.
Beautiful description of what grief is.
<3
I don’t think you can ever know what grief is until you are in it. So it’s great you write about it as you do because it gives insight to those who haven’t experienced it and comfort to those who have. Thank you.
That’s it exactly, Carol. Thank you for letting me know.
All I can say is amen.
<3 and hugs to you, friend.
Grief is learning to live with the love and without the loved one. That is so beautiful, hard, and true. I’m receiving encouragement from your series, friend. This summer, I had several losses (ministry-related, friendship, etc) and they felt like the last straw. I remembered how many people I’ve served in the 18 years here who are no longer around, people I poured into even. I realized I needed to grieve, and it is healing.
This doesn’t compare at all with losing your husband or family member to real death, all I wanted to say was your series is encouraging me. 🙂 God is so good.
One thing I’m learning, Betsy, is permission to grieve. To not think it’s too small a thing or in no way compares. It just is and we have to process the emotion. We never really know what someone is gonig through, do we? Your comment speaks to that so well.
Amen! The loss of my parents and the recent loss of my sister…feels like yesterday. You simply…learn to live with it. My hope, is knowing that I will see them again.
Linda, it’s crazy how it can feel both like a years and then just yesterday. And that’s the best hope ever. xoxo
Thank you for your beautiful words. Grief is something we will all go through; if not now, then someday.
The love was and is a gift!
It is. So grateful!
Thank you for such a great explanation of grief. Until you’ve experienced the loss of a close friend of family member, you can’t understand the pain and change that happens in you life. Adjusting to the new norm is very difficult. Appreciate your insight and explanation of grief.
So true, Sandra. I think that experience gives us compassion, a gift.
The Lord said you would be comforted if you mourn. I have seen grief literally take over a person’s life, I deeply understand this and am sorry for the losses. Both the deaths and friendships and things we missed, but we must never let a spirit of grief prevail ,when we have hope in Him. We have a good God and good memories.
Learning to live with the love and not the loved one.
Beautiful words. Love doesn’t just go away!
Lisa, I thank you for this grief series. Your words bring such healing & hope! When everything you believed in your heart (your one-flesh goals, future plans, 44 years of being best friends) is suddenly turned upside down…the analogy of a dark culvert describes it well BUT your excellent, hopeful point that it is open on the other end is encouraging. There will always be an empty chair at the table of my heart reserved just for him, however, it is good to know God is at the head of this ‘table’ leading & guiding. Blessings to you on your continued journey.