Maybe it’s the overwhelming thought of taking care of the stuff that all of a sudden demands attention – like the smoke detector battery buzzing at 1:30 in the morning… Really? 1:30 AM? Like it couldn’t wait til 7:00AM? Of the water softener on the fritz, or the car needing an oil change, or……….fill in the blank. Difficult? No – But the, once again, realization that I have to do it myself.
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But there have been bright spots – coffee with friends, borrowing a friends’ husband to help with the to do list. A sympathy card from a neighbor I barely know. A few cute kids coming around for Trick or Treat…
And then here is this…….Some of you are familiar with the writer Frederick Buechner. Well, he has a new book out, A Crazy, Holy Grace, the Healing Power of Pain and Memory. Many of the essays are from prior works in which he writes about the pain of suffering – death primarily. The death of a loved one – in his case a father by suicide.
But it was the first essay that got my attention and it has been rolling around in my head for a few days…… He talks about the universality of pain – and that life is terminal (not a new idea). But then goes on to explain how we need to be good stewards of our pain. That how we deal with loss, pain, suffering, determines how we live (my words, not his). We can choose to let it overwhelm us, we can choose to stuff it and ignore it, in which case our lives are diminished and in a sense, we, too die.
Or we can be good stewards of our pain. Work our way through the maze of it and turn straw into gold.
He then goes on to explain the Parable of the Talents as a way of understanding this idea. For Buechner, the talents are what life gives us – and what we do with these experiences is what matters. “To live a buried life is to say you have not lived your life at all.” And isn’t that what God wants of us? To live the life we have been given to the fullest? “If you bury your life-if you don’t face, among other things, your pain- your life shrinks. It is in a way diminished. It is in a way taken away.”
There is more (you’ll have to read the book!) and I’m still trying to wrap my head around all of this.
And maybe that’s it – acknowledging the pain – sharing it with others – being honest about the fact that it sucks – it’s not all ‘suck it up, buttercup.’ It’s hard work and it hurts and it often seems as if it gets harder, not easier.
Unfortunately, neither our society, nor our church deals with any of this very well. Platitudes about my loved ones returning to their heavenly home are not helpful for me. But fortunately, there have been many conversations with friends, new and old, some with similar experiences and some not, but who get it and can listen and not be scared away by the pain of it all… not be scared away by my cloak of fear…this cloak that often feels like Harry Potter’s cloak of invisibility. I sometimes feel invisible as if my grief has erased me from the world. A friend once described her grief as being ‘outlined by grief.’ I would describe mine (often, but not always) as being made invisible.
It’s been 4 1/2 months – and no I have not ‘gotten over it.’ I don’t think I ever will, really…tears still pop up at the most inopportune times – anxiety and fear burrow themselves deep in my gut - and sometimes I still can’t breathe. But I still get up every morning – Hunter sees to that – and face the day. Do I have a choice? Yes.
“So – are we going out now, Human?”
“No – Hunter, not now - it’s dark – so maybe tomorrow if it’s not too cold…”
“Well, you’ll just have to bundle up and put on a coat, right?”
“You are so smart, Hunter….”
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