Sometimes, when I am overwhelmed with grief for those who are missing in my life, I wish I lived in a different society. One in which I was allowed to scream and cry and beat at the ground in the beginning, at the funeral, and get it all out right then, right there. Force and let flow all the pain out of my body at once so I can be done with it and move on, happy to live my life and only look back fondly at the part of my life that included this person.
But then I think, that’s not something that happens at once. A broken leg doesn’t heal in one go; how can I expect a broken heart to do as much? No amount of wishing will make that so. So then I wish I lived in a society in which it was okay to be in pain, to hurt for years and years, no matter the cause. To have been able to call in to work this morning and say, I’m sorry I can’t come in today, I need to scream and tear my hair out because my grandmother died two years ago. I need a day for residual hurt. I'll see you tomorrow.
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And so we witness the end.
10 years ago
2 comments:
Word.
I have never really figured out how to get practical things done with a full-time job (car tune-ups, medical and dental appointments, etc.), never mind impractical things, like grief, that obey no schedule.
I say, Flail at a funeral.
There was a season of my life (actually this has happened several times, but I am thinking of fall 2003) when I used to weep through church every Sunday. And that then was not a church that expected it.
I noted one day that I wasn't alone. An older (not old) woman too was weeping unashamedly.
She said it was good and helpful that we were there, to represent the tearful side of things.
I love that; "to represent the tearful side of things"
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