We Stink At Grief & Loss
Thursday, November 27, 1997, was a tough day; the day, my dad passed away. 28 years ago, I said goodbye, and hardly a day goes by that I don't think of him, and every American Thanksgiving brings the grief back to an all too familiar level.
Today, I'm thinking, not only of my biological father, but my spiritual father who passed away, just over 4 months ago. I imagine them both in heaven swapping stories and revelling in the fact that they are together.
I can hear my dad..."Hey Keith, do you remember when Dan was 15, and we went to that house party where he was and went in to ask him to come home with us?"
Then Keith would probably laugh and say, "Oh man, was he ticked off at us. But he came with us, and I was as surprised as you were. He didn't talk to us the whole drive home, but at least we saved him from a night that shouldn't have happened in the first place."
I hope they have shared a lot more positive memories, but that is one of the few times I remember being together...and even if it was to ruin my night, I remember it fondly now, because I know they both loved me and did it for my own good.
(Side note: many years later, I baptized the guy I was suppose to party with that night)
So today, I'm sitting quietly, reflecting on my dad, and I'm well aware that while we are entering the Christmas season, which includes, lights, music and presents, it's also a season when grief rises to the surface for many.
We all face losses of some kind, some big some small. We can lose a job, a friendship, our health, the life we thought we were going to have.
You'd think since loss is a part of life, we'd be better at dealing with it. But the truth is, I don't think we're very good at facing loss at all. In fact, I would go as far as to say, we don't face it, rather we choose some detrimental alternatives.
1) We put a spin on grief
This is often what we do when others have experienced loss...we say things like
"At least he's in a better place."
"He had a good life."
"There's a reason for everything."
Can I make a suggestion? Can we eliminate these statements from our vocabulary? They aren't helpful, they amplify that you are just struggling to say something useful (actually saying nothing can be the most helpful at times.) And they unintentionally minimize the significance of their loss; the very thing you don't want to do.
2) We avoid acknowledging our grief
In our culture, we are good at distraction, in part because we have so many options at our fingertips. If we want to, we never have to sit quietly long enough to feel our losses.
We can avoid the pain of loss with TV, binging Netflix series, mindless scrolling on social media, work, meaningless serial relationships, food, shopping etc etc. The ways we can avoid pain (but often introducing new pain) seems endless. Which is why it's so difficult not to do. But these attempts at avoidance don't make the grief go away...it might get buried for a while, but in the end, the pain will come back, only compounded by the new problems created by the unhealthy patterns we thought we helping in the first place...it's a vicious cycle.
3) We wallow in our grief
We can feel so stuck in our grief, when we ruminate about it. This may seem harsh, but when all we do in our grief is focus on how it makes us feel, we can end up just feeling sorry for ourselves. While I believe we should give attention to our losses and how they make us feel, staying there isn't going to be helpful.
This is why some therapy doesn't help either, by the way. Often in marriage counselling for example, the couple wants to keep talking about the problem, but not the solutions. It's just easier to focus on what's wrong rather than be challenged to do what can move the needle.
But what if facing our losses has value?
What if allowing ourselves to feel the pain of loss is part of what it means to be human?
What if, it is through our pain, grief and loss, where we experience more of God?
We'll continue this next week. But in the meantime, on this American Thanksgiving, I'm going to be grateful for the years I had with my dad. For the difference he made in my life, for the grace he showed, and the love he poured out on his prodigal son.
Until next time - Dan