Good Monday morning...

 

… and comparing griefs is something we are all prone to doing, simply because we’re human and competitive.  But David Kessler, the leader of the Grief Educators Certification program I am currently taking, says, “when you compare griefs, when you win, you lose.”  I have shared this in bereavement groups for years, and I believe it.

So why do I feel such grief over my friend, Bill’s death?  I mean, c’mon, he moved away over two years ago.  People get cancer.  While he was given pretty good odds, a 62% chance of survival if he had the bone marrow transplant, his death hit me hard.  An interesting twist for me was the type of cancer that put him in such dire straits.  Forty years ago this month, in April of 1986, my dad was diagnosed with acute myeloid leukemia (same cancer Bill was diagnosed with) and he died three weeks later, on May 20, 1986.  What does that mean?

These questions are not academic; they are emotional, steeped in confusion and grief.  So, finding an academic answer is futile, but contemplating their meaning is healing for me.  At least that is what I am telling myself.  The respect I carry for my dad, all these years after his death, has proven to me that there is something to finding meaning in our relationship by grieving his death.  Dr. William Warden calls it a “continuing bond.”  Oddly enough, I feel closeness and growing love and respect for my dad, for what he has contributed to my life in the 24 years that our lives overlapped.

It has taken most of the last 20 years for me to find this continuing bond with my dad, something I believe I owe to the men and women I have sat with in bereavement groups and learned from their raw and emotional grief work.  The first 20 years were lost, not knowing there was such a thing as grief work.

Time frames don’t seem to matter.  I spent a significant part of my life from 2015 until 2024 with Bill as a work colleague and friend.  It occurs to me that in our years working together, some of the best times we spent was co-facilitating the bereavement groups for Hospice of the Valleys.  In them we learned of each other’s grief experiences as well as held safe space for the participants to share their grief stories.  We grew a lot, individually, but also enjoyed the commonality of satisfaction in the work.

So, the takeaway for this piece is to grieve with gratitude.  Find meaning in the relationships you have loved and lost.  It is OK to feel deep sadness.  It is OK to tell the stories.  It is good to honor the love shared and lessons learned from the people God has put in your life.  Your grief is your loving connection to the loved ones who have died.

For His glory,

Pastor Mike