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Something prompted me look at this email again and to post it on my blog. I wondered why. Then I remembered. It is getting close to the date that my mother died - only eight days before her 75th birthday.
A few weeks ago, a friend asked me if I had any words to give her to help comfort a friend. Here is what I told her.
"I have been sitting with your invitation to help you with words to comfort a friend. I am honored by it. I hope that what you say is true - that my words sometimes help to comfort or advise another.
This woman has played a significant role in your life in making the connection for you and your husband.
For this woman who is about to lose a 4th husband to death, I find it overwhelming to even think about living through the grief of losing three husbands. I suspect she holds more wisdom in her on this subject than you and I will ever have - or at least I hope neither of us ever learns.
I suspect she knows all that I am about to say and more - and so my words are more for you than her.
The one thing I am learning about death and loss (I do not want to act like I have "learned" it, yet.) - is that each of us finds our own way through these things if we are given the space. I have found knowing someone is "standing" with you means more than words could ever say.
I’ve learned that grief comes in waves and in the beginning the waves are so big and violent it feels like they are going to rip you apart and carry you away...and it gets better. The waves get smaller and farther apart...and never totally go away. Hearing a train whistle still takes me to the joy I experienced with my father and the sadness that I feel that he is not on this planet anymore. It becomes bittersweet.
As I have lived through the grief in my life and observed others doing the same, it seems the capacity for gratitude and being present in the moment - letting go of the what ifs, if onlys, and what might have beens, helps tremendously.
Gratitude for my spiritual life, belief that I am part of something bigger than myself, the beauty and elegance of a sunrise, this planet - these pleasures and more help carry me through these times. Knowing I have a friend who will stand with me - not fixing, saving, rescuing, or giving me advice - but standing with me means a lot.
I envy other cultures that have a process of grief - and the community respects it. Too often, in our culture, I hear people speak out of their discomfort with your grief and their own. They try to "move" you along by saying things like, “he's gone, get over it.”
Saying to another, I am here. I am prepared to listen and not speak. I am prepared to sit with my own discomfort to create a vessel of safety for you to be.
I hope there is something in all that I have offered as a gift. Take what you need and leave the rest. Peace.
