When Mother’s Day is Not Happy

Posted on May 9, 2013 by

Mother’s Day can be a miserable day.  Countless women and children mourn for a mother-child relationship that is not as it should be.    The hallmark cards and commercials depict Mother’s Day as all smiles.  But for many people, the celebration taps into pain and sorrow.

I know.

The first Mother’s Day I experienced after my baby died was awful.   Well, every day was hard then.  But on that day in particular the pain lunged at me from all sides.  Nothing was going to stop the pain, but I remember a gesture that did bring a measure of comfort.   My sister sent a card with a note encouraging me that one day I’d have a special reunion with my son.   It meant a lot to me because she understood that I was a mom, even though my son had died.   I still have that card.

Mother’s Day can be an opportunity to not only celebrate but to remember and comfort others.  The day need not be happy to be important.   Often we struggle in responding to people who are sad, but here are a few ideas to help you start. 

To someone aching to be a mother, but who has not been able to conceive or who has experienced a miscarriage, give her flowers with a note saying you remember her.  Do not try to make her pain go away.  Just let your presence be known.

To someone grieving the death of a child, whether a few months ago or many years, ask about her son or daughter.  Ask if she would like to share stories and memories.   Even if she is not able to at that moment, she’ll be thankful someone remembered. Donate to a charity in memory of her child and let her know.   Even if a mother has other living children, she still misses her child who died.

To adults grieving the death of a mother, whether a few months ago or many years, ask them what was special about their mothers.  “What do you remember most?  What lessons did she teach that remain in you?”

To children grieving the death of a mother, whether a few months ago or many years, ask how they feel about Mother’s Day.   Give a child an opportunity to cry, to ask questions, to know it is OK to be sad or confused.  Also, let children know that laughing and loving others does not take away from their love for a mother who died.

To a mother whose child is across the globe fighting in a war:  Pray for peace.  Let her talk about her fears.  Don’t try to take away her fear, just listen.

To women who chose, or were forced, to give up babies through adoption or abortion, give them space to mourn. Acknowledge their loss.  They don’t need more judgment.

To adult children whose mothers abused them growing up, listen to their pain. Ask if there are other women in their lives that have been special to them.  Would they want to honor those women? Recognize the balance between acknowledging their pain and knowing that there are others who love them.

To little children whose mothers are not able to properly take care of them, see if there is a way you can help.

To women who have stepped up to help take care of other people’s children, recognize and thank them.  Motherly love is not restricted to a biological relationship.

To mothers who have a strained relationship with a child because of drugs, prison, mental illness, arguments, or family conflict, encourage them.  Don’t dismiss their pain, but offer hope.  See if there are other ways you can help.  The same goes for a child whose mother is struggling with these problems.

If it is your relationship with a child or a mother that is strained, offer forgiveness or an apology.   Reach out.  Decide this Mother’s Day to try again.

If you are the one grieving for a child or a mother, give yourself freedom to grieve, to remember, to laugh, to cry.   Find a way to honor the life and love that you were granted.

May you find peace and comfort this Mother’s Day as you remember those you love.

 

 

Posted in Grief, Holiday | 5 Comments

Resist the Urge to “Take Care of Things” for those Grieving

Posted on April 22, 2013 by

When Kathy was a teenager, her mother and several younger siblings died in a car accident. Kathy and her remaining siblings were devastated.  Their mom had a robe she wore in the mornings when getting ready for work.  It still carried her mom’s perfume.   Kathy found a measure of comfort wearing the robe, embraced by her mother’s lingering scent.

After the first week follower the accident, while the kids where at school, neighbors washed all of Kathy’s mother’s clothes, including the robe.   When Kathy came home to discover what happened, she sank further into despair.  She lost that precious reminder of her mom.  Thirty years later, when she is telling me this story, tears fill her eyes as she recalls the pain of what those neighbors had done.

When a loved one dies, “things” are no longer “just things.”  We hold on to special items as a way to keep memories and stay connected to those who died.

Sometimes, well-meaning individuals want to go into a grieving person’s home and clean out things that they think will bring too much pain or, from their perspective, do chores that “should just be done.” For example, when a mother suffers a miscarriage or stillbirth, others may think it is a good idea to take down the nursery for her. Or in another case, a woman’s husband dies and people think they should remove his clothes, wash the dirty laundry, and “pick up” as a way to help out.    STOP.  Don’t do it.  Do not put anything away unless you have permission from the people most directly connected.

Yes, it is very painful to be surrounded by the clothes, books, toys, shoes, and every other material item belonging to the one who died.  But identifying the meaning attached to these items and deciding what to do with them is important in the grieving process.   These items might also be a source of comfort.  The meanings of those things often change over time.  But we should not force the change for others.

If a person does not know what to do, and is not ready to make decisions, he or she may want to pack up items in order to decide later.

It is possible that those grieving know they want to remove items such as clothes right away.  That is fine. The problem comes when we do not give those grieving a chance to decide.  It is complicated when a family cannot agree on what to do with things.  It is important to have conversations about these decisions.

Sometimes friends and family can be impatient wondering why months or years later a person continues to hang on to something.  Rather than judging the person for still having an item, ask why it is important to them.  There typically are powerful, and sometimes funny, stories connected to those things.

Thirteen years ago, Jane’s husband died.  They were in their mid-40s.  She shared a story about why she still keeps a jacket:

“To this day, I still have a Chicago Bulls rain jacket that he bought our daughter. She was in 3rd or 4th grade…she needed a new Spring coat and it was a sunny afternoon and I was doing a long-term substituting job so I said, “You take her shopping.” He said, “Okay, what does she need.” I said, “A new spring jacket with a hood. Don’t get one without a hood.” So he comes home with this really cute, half-zip, Chicago Bulls jacket because she really liked that team. It had no hood. I said, “Where is the hood?” and they both look at me like, “but it’s a Bulls jacket.” And I said, “But where’s the hood?” She wore one of those warm headband things all spring to keep her ears warm. To this day, we kept that jacket because he bought it for her and it was not the jacket Mom wanted for her. And it was kind of that joke but also that it meant that it was something that Dad gave in to her for when Mom never would have.”

That jacket with no hood holds special memories for Jane and her daughter.  They would not need the jacket to remember the humor and bond between father and daughter, but it is a nice physical reminder and something to grasp, too.

In time, people generally learn what it is they want to keep and what they are ready to move elsewhere.  People vary widely in when and what they decide. Give each other freedom to grieve.

Resist the urge to tell someone to take off a wedding ring, sell a car, pack away pictures, give away clothes, or dismantle a room.  If you are interested, ask genuine questions.  What does this item mean to you? Tell me about it.  If the person wants to talk, sit back and listen.   You may hear some deep stories of love.

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What can we learn from melting snow and ugly grass?

Posted on March 15, 2013 by

When the snow starts to melt in March, the promise of spring fills my soul.   Some years, the snow covers the ground for months.   With great anticipation, I long to see green grass and spring flowers.  But each March, what strikes me is how ugly the grass can be after the snow melts.  The disappearance of snow reveals some grass but also dirt and matted-down leaves.  Near the road rests torn sod from the rash shoveling of sidewalks.   Sand and trash strewn from the street add another layer.

I had been imagining what grass looks like later in spring.  However, what we find initially is life battered down by a hard winter.

With time and care, I nurture the grass to lush beauty.  I rake the sticks, leaves, and dirt clods so the grass has more room to breath and grow.

As I am working in the yard, I realize that my nurturing of this ugly grass changes the way I view it.   Rather than seeing just the remnants of abuse from a hard winter, I notice promise and resilience. I can see the beauty beneath that slowly emerges.

As we go through struggles in our life—grief, suffering, loss—we face similar seasons of growth. At first, it takes time for the snow and ice to melt, which may be the anger and hurt releasing.  It seems like once this melts, you should feel much better.  But what can happen is that the release of some emotions may uncover further problems.  It is progress but does not always feel that way.

You need time to take care of the problems that have been waiting under the snow and ice. Slowly, with care, the grass can then heal and grow into the image of spring we cherish.

In the meantime, the muddy, torn grass has its own kind of beauty.   Beauty that comes in packages of tender nurturing and smells of spring rain.  We see faint but familiar glimpses of hope.

No matter what season of life you are in, look for the hope and promise that will come again.   Spring follows winter, but not always as fast as we want.  Still, spring comes.
 

 

Posted in Grief, Uncategorized | Leave a comment

Twelve Years Unspoken

Posted on February 2, 2013 by

 

Twelve years ago, our son died.

The next day he was born, still.

I know.  It is backwards. There is nothing right about a child dying. Words often fail to capture our emotions. Either we cannot speak or there are no words. As a loving tribute to Zachariah, I share this poem.

 
Twelve Years Unspoken
 
Entering my favorite flower shop,
Passing by teddy bears and blankets,
I close my eyes, a prayer unspoken.
 
“Three yellow roses and baby’s breath, please.”
She says, “We have no baby’s breath.”
 
Appropriate, I suppose, since neither did he.
 
She offers other “little white flowers.”
But it is baby’s breath I long to see.
 
“Then just the roses.”
 
Reading my credit card, she pauses,
“Oh, I didn’t recognize you.”
“It’s OK,” I say.
 
The reason I was there
Hung in the air,
Unspoken.
 
“How have you been?”
She quietly asks.
 
I whisper through tears,
 “It’s a hard day.”
Twelve years, unspoken
My voice gives way.
 
She shares, “I’m sorry.”
Tenderly wrapping each rose,
“Hang in there,” she says softly.
It helps that she knows.
 
I nod,
Gratitude
Unspoken.
 
I walk away.
In my empty arms rest
The yellow roses
With no baby’s breath.
 
My heart, broken,
Holding love, unspoken.

 

Nancy Berns
February 1, 2013
Posted in Death, Grief, parenting | 8 Comments

My Daughter’s Grief and a Box of Sticks

Posted on January 14, 2013 by

 

A beautiful pine tree, slowly dying, stood in our front yard. Realizing we would lose the tree brought sadness. My daughters enjoyed sitting on its low branches, especially when watching for their grandparents to arrive.  It was their waiting place.

My eight-year-old daughter knew that the tree was going to be cut down. Still, when the day came, it was tough on her. A few minutes before we needed to leave for school, she went to the tree for one last good-bye.  Crying and grasping the brown needles, she did not want to leave the tree. I prayed and wondered what to do.  Do I force her to leave so she can get to school?  Do I encourage her to make it a quick good-bye—like ripping off a bandage? A voice inside me, counseled by my own grief, advised, “Let her say good-bye. Give her time.”  So I did not rush her.  I let her spend what ended up being an hour saying good-bye.

During this time, a lot went through my head and heart as I watched her cry, knowing she would not see the tree again. I wanted to call the tree people and tell them that we had changed our minds.  We were not going to cut it down.  At least not now.  That would make her happy.  I also knew it would only postpone the grief.  Furthermore, I knew it did not set a good example: we sometimes just have to go forward through the pain.

I could have them cut only part of it down.  Saving the branch and stump would allow her to sit in her “waiting place.”  But I knew it would not be the same.  So I let her cry.

She started to pick up needles, pinecones, and little branches and began stuffing them in her pockets.  She wanted to keep part of the tree with her.  I found a box and told her she could put them in there.  She emptied her pockets into the box and a few tears fell in, too.  She picked up more sticks to add to her treasure.   Eventually she got to where she was ready to go—as ready as she could be.

I thought about future grief my daughter would experience in life.  I don’t know when or who or how she will grieve, but I know it will come.  I wish I could stop it.  I wish I could call Death and tell him not to bother my little girls and their loved ones.  But that won’t happen, so I try to teach them about grief.  I try to let them know that it is all right to cry. It is important to take time to grieve.

Recently, I came across that box full of pinecones and little sticks. A few years later, my daughter is fine.  She misses the tree but does not grieve for it.  I could get rid of that box of sticks, but I don’t.  I keep it, not for her, but for me.  It reminds me that my children will grieve harder things in life and that I cannot stop the loss or the tears. I will not be able to hand them a box to carry the pain, but I can be there to hold their hands and hearts.

Posted in Grief, parenting | 4 Comments

Should we sing about joy and peace this Christmas?

Posted on December 21, 2012 by

It can be hard to find the joy of Christmas when we live in a broken world.  Could there be a more painful example of brokenness than a mass shooting of innocent children?

How do we say “Peace on Earth” when children are gunned down in schools and countries are at war? How do we sing “Joy to the World” after hearing news reports or seeing haunting images of terror?

We know of tragedy and pain throughout the world and some may even feel guilty at times for wanting to continue with Christmas traditions.  But we also have a deep longing to experience peace and joy.     How do we reconcile these emotions?

December is often decorated with sparkling lights, candy, sugar cookies, wreaths, and beautifully wrapped boxes.  None of these things are bad, but they can mask the real Christmas.   Christmas is not just about festive cheer, bright lights, and merriment.   Yes, there is joy, but sadness and pain also belong in the Christmas story.

If we have our eyes open to the world, we see not only gifts and twinkling eyes, but also tears and heartache.  We see broken bodies and blood.  We see the homeless and hungry. We see abuse and greed. We see parents planning funerals instead of finishing their Christmas shopping.

However, even in the midst of this tragedy and brokenness, there is still a reason to sing joy to the world and peace on Earth.  We have Christmas because of heartache, pain, grief, and tragedies.  We need a wonderful counselor.  We long for a savior to fix our broken world. Christians celebrate the birth of Jesus because of the brokenness.  Christmas is deeper, stronger, and more important than the gifts.

Christmas is staring evil in the face and saying,  “You will not win.”  Christmas is choosing forgiveness over revenge.  Christmas is working towards a better world.   Christmas is praying for peace on Earth.  Christmas is learning that hope and love are greater than despair.

Here are some ways to get into the Christmas spirit:  Show mercy. Love your neighbor. Feed the hungry. Care for the poor.  Pray for others. Share hope.  Find beauty.  Forgive. Be peacemakers.  Express gratitude. Practice compassion.  Comfort those who mourn.

This year, many people may have tears streaming while singing Christmas songs, but sing on we must.  Sing about joy and peace on Earth.   Sing about love and comfort this Christmas.   Those are words of hope for our future and a call to action for our present.

 

Posted in Grief, Holiday, Joy | 1 Comment

What I Learn from Fear and Death

Posted on December 18, 2012 by

After hearing about the massacre of children and adults in a Connecticut elementary school, my heart ached for the families involved.   The scope of their agony went beyond my imagination.  In response to the killings, many parents commented about wanting to hug their children extra tight that night.  While I could clearly understand why people felt that way, I realized I did not have the same reaction.

At first, I felt strange and wondered why I did not have this intense feeling about hugging my children.  What was wrong with me?   Was I numb?

I slowly understood that it was not that I didn’t have the desire to hug my kids extra tight, but that this feeling was nothing new for me.  I have felt that way every day.  I have always hugged them often and tightly.  Why?  It is not because I love my children more than other parents love their kids, but because I already live with fear.

Although I cannot know how the parents in Newtown are feeling, I can relate to the agony of losing a child.  I learned about death’s unpredictable path when our son was stillborn.   When I say good-bye to my children, I worry that something will happen.  So I hug them tight many times a day. Every day I tell them how much they are loved.

Even if I could forget my own grief, I’m reminded through others how death can come unexpectedly and tragically. In my research, I listen to people’s stories of death, loss, and grief.  However, they also tell of beautiful moments of joy.

The horror and magnitude of this December school shooting is beyond words.    There is not an explanation that will make us feel better.  There is not an answer that will assure us it won’t happen again.  We cannot control people and events around us.  We can take precautions, and we should.  We can make changes in our society that might help prevent violence, and we should.   But we will not be able to completely stop violence and death from happening again.   We also cannot stop car accidents and natural disasters. So how do we live in the face of that reality?

Some of you may be thinking that facing fear every day sounds like an awful way to live.  It is hard.  I agree.   But I have also learned a lot from fear and death.  For example, we can turn fear into motivation for how we live and love.

Turn good-byes into opportunities to tell people that you care about them.  
Make each day count and reflect on how you want to best use your life.
Take notice of beauty in routine events or mundane details.  
Remember to pray for others and help those around you. 
Be thankful for today. 
 

It is not just fear that lingers after this tragedy, but we grieve for those parents whose children were slain.  It can be hard to carry that sadness.  The Monday after the shooting, as I walked my first grader to her room at school, I wondered how long it would be before I could look at her class without thinking of the first graders who were killed.   There is a new heaviness there, but I think it is appropriate.  Looking at their sweet faces reminds me to pray for the Newtown families, the children who survived but are traumatized, and our local students and teachers.   It also reminds me to reflect on what we can do to help in other situations.

Even while remembering tragedy and grief, we can continue to live our lives.  We can carry joy and grief together.  If we think that we can experience only one emotion at a time, we may do what we can to avoid others’ pain and grief in an effort to find happiness.  Discovering that we can still find joy in the midst of suffering not only helps with our own healing, but makes it more likely that we are willing to enter other people’s pain.

Maybe I could fear less, but I am fearless in loving my children. Some people may tell me I don’t have enough faith if I fear, but faith is what helps me keep living and loving.   I have come to see that fear is not all bad.   Without some fear, one may easily become too complacent, busy, or consumed with less important matters.  When my baby died, I learned a lot about love.  His death helped me realize how deep pain can go, but also how precious life is.   I try to honor his life by how I live and love.  Perhaps we can honor the lives of those precious children in Connecticut in a similar way.

When my girls are giggling at night, past their bedtime, I know I should tell them to be quiet and go to sleep.  But I let them giggle a little longer, and I listen to that precious sound. When I see my girls cuddling together, reading or talking, I pause and watch them.  I study their faces and enjoy the sight.   I may have some fear about tomorrow, but I treasure today.

Life can be scary as we encounter pain and death. I am not saying it is easy.  However, there are blessings along the way if we are willing to face fear and embrace love.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Posted in Death, Grief, Joy, Uncategorized | 4 Comments

Best Christmas Gifts for those Grieving

Posted on December 13, 2012 by

Do you have that one person still on your Christmas gift list for whom you have no idea what to buy?  And if you are like me, after you choose something, you include a gift receipt anyway.   It is challenging enough to pick out gifts, but what do you give someone who is grieving? How do you celebrate the season with a person mired in pain?

This year, you may know people who are grieving the loss of a loved one and dreading the holidays.  It can be difficult to choose a present for someone who only wants a loved one back.

In spite of the variety of stores and online shopping, your usual ideas fall flat.   Sure, things like sweaters, tools, or games fill the box, but do they fulfill their needs?

If you cannot find the present that fits, you may be looking in the wrong places. Walk out of the store and shut down the computer because what many people need comes from the heart.

Here are some ideas to get you started.  These gifts are not always a one-size-fits-all type of present.  Take time to listen and find out what may work best for your grieving friend or family member.

Gift of Presence
Your presence may be just the gift someone needs. Spend time with people who hurt.  Ask if they want to go do things. Assure them it is all right if they cry or are not enthusiastic.  Be patient if they just want to spend time doing quiet activities. The point of this gift is not to force them into your idea of fun, but to be present for them.
 
 Gift of Listening
The gift of listening works for anyone.  The key to presenting this gift lies in what not to do.  Do not try to fix someone. Do not try to take away the pain.  Do not talk too much.  Do not judge or give advice. Do not be afraid of tears or silence.   Listen.  The world is short on listeners, and this gift will never lose its value.   
 
 
Gift of Space Maybe someone could use a gift of space.  Give someone space to grieve in his or her own way, to adapt holiday traditions, and to be alone when needed but not forgotten.  You can also give someone space to cry, to laugh, and to know that there is room for him or her even while grieving.
 
Gift of Remembrance
Those empty chairs at the table are usually more visible during holidays.  A loved one who has died recently—or many years ago—is still dearly missed.  Give a gift of remembrance.  Say the name of the one who died. Ask to hear stories about him or her.  Share your own stories. Make a memorial ornament.  Create a tradition in memory of the loved one.  Even if it has been ten years or more since a loss, we long to remember and love those we miss. There is nothing wrong with that.
 
Gift of Service
Help people rediscover the gift of service.  Invite someone to go with you to serve a meal for those in need. Go together to visit people in the nursing home. Organize a toy drive for children who will otherwise not receive much.  Gather winter coats and sweaters for a clothes pantry. Discover with others the gifts of being needed and helping others.
 
Gift of Christmas Joy
Give the gift of Christmas joy.  But, you might ask, where is the joy for those who are suffering, heartbroken, or grieving?  The answer is that the joy of Christmas lies right in the middle of all this pain and misery. Christians celebrate the birth of Jesus because God sent His Son to heal those who are hurting. The joy of Christmas resides in love for others, hope for a better world, and peace for all, even during times of brokenness.
 

Consider which of these gifts is a good fit for you and the person receiving.   Sometimes your offers will be turned down, but be patient.  People grieve on their own schedule. Hopefully, these ideas inspire you to think of other ways to help those hurting this Christmas.

Perhaps you noticed.  You need no money to give these gifts; they are priceless.

 

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Giving Thanks in Broken Times

Posted on November 21, 2012 by

One day I walked into a church. “How are you doing?” someone asked me, a little too enthusiastic for the day I was having. Facing some hard issues at the time, I did not pretend all was fine.

I replied, “OK.” He asked, “Just OK?  Not great? You should be doing great.” He said something about as Christians we should be happy. I don’t remember his exact words.  I was busy trying not to yell at him.  I walked away, wondering if he was right. Was there something wrong with how I was reacting to my situation?

It is true that I did not feel happy that day.  But I still had joy and thanksgiving in my heart. Experiencing joy and giving thanks does not require a cheerleading routine.

At times I hear people claiming the Bible says, “Be thankful for all things.” But that’s not right. First Thessalonians 5:18 says to be thankful IN all circumstances. We are not told to be thankful FOR everything in our lives. We are not expected to give thanks for loss and brokenness. However, the capacity lies within us to be thankful IN those dark times.  That little preposition makes a big difference.

A spirit of thanksgiving is important in other religions and cultures, too.  And suffering reaches all corners of our world.  So how and why should we give thanks in broken times?

Whining children are frequently told, “Be thankful for what you have.”   But do they see others practicing this attitude?  As adults, we need to model for children how to be thankful IN all circumstances even when bad things are happening.  Giving thanks does not need to be limited to a holiday. Create a habit of thanksgiving in your daily life.

Keep a gratitude journal.
Send a thank you note to someone.
Think of blessings before you go to sleep.
Tell your family stories of gratitude from past events.
Give to charity when you are blessed with enough.
Share moments of thanksgiving at dinner or in the car.
Say thank you to people.
 

These actions are moments of thanksgiving that you can do even if everything is not right in the world.  You might be in a place of enthusiastic happiness, and I hope everyone gets to experience those times in life.  However, giving thanks is not limited to those who are “doing great.”

But don’t get me wrong here. Telling people to be thankful should not be wielded as a weapon. There are times when we face trials and it is hard to be cheery.  Sometimes telling others to “look on the bright side” and “be thankful for what you have” is a strategy for avoiding people’s pain and struggles.  We need to exercise compassionate listening and helping along with encouragement to be thankful IN all circumstances. And if you are patient with people’s sorrows, you will be one more reason for which they can give thanks.

In my work and personal life, I listen to stories of tragedy and loss. Witnessing grief is difficult, but I find that joy and beauty are never far away. Even during our darkest days, there is beauty. Even in times of despair, there are reasons to be thankful.

Giving thanks does not take away all our pain and struggles, but it points us to the light in a time of darkness.   Identifying reasons to be thankful gives glimmers of hope and strength to keep going.

We face hard times in our lives, and none of us will escape grief. But it is not a journey without joy. And you do not have to find “closure” or end grief before you can experience that joy. You do not have to have everything going right in your life in order to be thankful IN any situation.

Whether your Thanksgiving is quiet or rambunctious, may you find peace in giving thanks.

 

 

Posted in Grief, Holiday, Joy | 2 Comments

When Grandma Grieves 50 Years of Love

Posted on October 24, 2012 by

A student from class, Mary, came into my office and sat in an orange over-stuffed chair. We talked about a paper assignment.  Then, hesitantly, she asked a question that probably brought her there in the first place.

She tells about her grandparents.  They had been married over 50 years, and just recently her grandfather died. Her grandmother is grieving deeply.   Then Mary said, “Every day my grandma adds dirt to my grandpa’s grave.  I’m worried about her.  Doesn’t that sound like a problem? Is there something wrong with her?”

I leaned forward and saw in Mary’s glistening eyes how much she loved her grandma and how confused she was by this behavior.

I said, “Mary, your grandparents were married over 50 years.  That is more than twice your lifetime.  They took care of each other and were together every day.  I imagine your grandma cannot suddenly just stop taking care of him.  Her adding dirt to his grave is a way to take care of him now.”

Mary sighed and said, “I had not thought of it that way.”

When she was able to see her grandmother’s behavior as an expression of love, Mary no longer worried that something was wrong with her.  Yes, she still has concerns because her grandma hurts.  But she no longer carries the burden of questioning the “normality” of her grandma’s behavior.

We live in a culture that tells us grief is an illness: something to fear, avoid, prevent, drug, silence, or end. Obviously, grief is not fun, but it is normal and part of loving someone.

Often people do not talk about grief, so when we see in depth what it is like for someone, we may be surprised.

People respond to loss in different ways.  Our grieving is individual.  We may have similarities with others, which can be helpful, but every one finds his or her way in responding to a loss.  I don’t mean that you have to be on your own in the process, though decidedly it can be a lonely journey.  Our grieving does not need to conform to someone else’s expectations.

Giving her grandma room to grieve brought Mary freedom.  Rather than trying to judge her against cultural standards, Mary is free to be present with her grandma.  And along the way, Mary will learn about grief and a 50-year love story that continues.

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