The other night I went to a remembrance ceremony held by the grief counseling organization where I’ll be volunteering. So close on the heels of my father’s service, I couldn’t help but look for patterns. The mind grinds when faced with inexplicable, upper case.
My father’s service was, through absolutely no efforts of my own so there is no boast here, a work of art. The professors were brilliant, but everyone was eloquent or witty or original or provocative or narrated history with thought and care. Or, last box in the list, all of the above.The shared remembrance service was mostly much simpler in speech and concept. But I felt as I listened the grief, loss, and the human emotions that we all will know in our lives if we’re here long enough.
In counselor training they teach us the import of just listening. I have begun to tell my friends and family that sometimes I just need words to come out of my mouth.
Often on the social internet, people celebrate the comfort of simple things. Tea and a blanket, for example. A dandelion in full fluff with only one seed flown. The truest simple comfort, to me, is the beat of someone else’s heart and the creases on their listening face.
Have wonderful weekend, simple or complex beyond divination.
5 Responses
So eloquently put! Grief is so raw and painful at the beginning, then with the passage of time, there is acceptance and even more – remembering the good times, special moments, laughter shared – as the miracle of healing helps us through the loss.
Martine, thank you. Grief is often called a journey, and I can really understand why.
What a beautiful post, Lisa. I remember vividly that in times of grief, all I’ve wanted was to not be alone. That realization was jarring to me at first: I expected to lose my eloquence, abilities and tolerance for being around others. The first two were lost as expected, but I wanted someone next to me more than at any other time — not to do or say or hear anything, but just to be there. I love your photo, above: it captures that feeling perfectly. You will be a wonderful counselor. I hope your weekend is full of comfort and love. xoxox
Jess, just to be there xoxox. You are always so kind to me in your comments. Although the mean things people might tell me here no longer have much impact, the nice words feel just as wonderful as they did when I started writing. Thank you.
Oh, so many thoughts to share about loss, and grief, and sitting with the bereaved. Poetry does help, but only when one is ready. Lead with your heart, and remember that there is no “one right way” to grieve, or to help someone grieving.
A few generalities, based on too much personal experience of the subject:
1) Yes, grief is a journey, but we don’t always know the destination.
2) “Just listening” probably prevents many instances of “saying the wrong thing.”
3) Grief is specific to the person grieving, and to the person being mourned.
4) Sometimes we grieve as much for ourselves as for the person we have lost.
Blessings on your own journey, dearest Lisa.
Comments are closed.