My Journey Through Grief – Ten Days of Tears, (A Man’s journey through grief continued.)

Looking back over a recent ten-day period, I now realize I ought to have been better prepared. Others who have gone through grief warned me that this process is unpredictable and needs to be taken slowly.

Although I have longer and longer periods without overt signs of grief, it lies there just beneath the surface of my psyche ready to burst forth unbidden at random times. And yet there seems to be some order to my general feeling of bereavement. These feelings intensify in the lonely evenings which I fill up with reading or watching some program on Netflix or UTube. They also come in the mornings when I wake up to an empty house. Normally, I’m able to deal with these feelings by pushing through them by embracing a discipline of hymn reading followed by Scripture and prayer. But I need something to do during the day. I need to get creative and plan my week.

This ten-day period began okay. I was going for coffee with a local pastor while my daughter and two of our granddaughters came to the condo to sort through Mary Helen’s clothes. For me it was a bridge too far to empty her closet. I could barely open her closet door without grief. I felt their help would be a good way to deal with a task that must be done.

Over coffee I chatted with the pastor about ministry and how I was handling grief. When I returned to the condo Mary Helen’s clothes had been sorted and put in garbage bags to give to a clothing outlet. Some had been set aside for other granddaughters to pick something to remember their grandmother by. The closet stood empty except for a couple of Mary Helen’s special outfits that they thought I might want to keep for a while. Good, right? Yes but…

A sudden sense of loss stunned me. I dissolved into tears. Gone. Our lives together ended. She was really gone. I could not stop sobbing. I’m sure my family was taken aback by my emotional meltdown. Obviously, I had not been ready for such a radical step.

If I was to avoid being kidnapped again by uncontrolled grief, I needed a better way to deal with my days. The next day I worked in my office catching up on bills and then having supper with family. On Sunday I went to church.

A new week dawned. After planting some veggies for my daughter, I returned home. But the condo felt so empty. My life seems one big vacancy. This feeling intensified as I talked with friends who were moving out west. It seemed that all Mary Helen’s close friends had received the western call. I felt so alone.

But I had a good sleep that night and woke up on Tuesday a little later than usual. I made coffee but before I could turn to my hymn book tears began to fall. Where did they come from? An overwhelming feeling of grief drowned my good intensions. The future looked bleak. What was the point of planning to work on a new book, or take up some ministry at the church? I’ve no one to share it with. No one understands. My coffee sat undrunk. That’s when I turned to Google and found the hymn, No one understands like Jesus.

I nodded my head as I read. Wracking sobs shook my body. I began to cry out to God for comfort. I told him that I didn’t regret His taking Mary Helen home. I tried to thank him for all the blessings I have. I told him that I didn’t doubt his goodness, but I couldn’t see much goodness coming into my life now. But Lord what do I do? How can I maintain hope? Where can I find joy?

I continued sobbing and crying out to God for 40 or 45 minutes until it gradually eased and I was able to take up my Bible. I suddenly realized that my tears had dried up. Surely, the God of all comfort had heard my prayers and dried my tears.

Now after breakfast, washing the dishes and having a shower I can dimly believe that life can go on. To fill the day, I took a very enjoyable a rural ramble through the countryside taking pictures of country stores. I ended up buying a couple of donuts at Dooher’s bakery in Campbellford. And then I sat by the Trent River to eat them and watch the river flow by.

On Wednesday, I slept a bit late but had good devotions in Exodus and 2 Corinthians. At breakfast I made a list of what I needed to get done to catch up after yesterday’s rural ramble. Pay bills. Correct address lists and contacts. Do some writing. It looked like I had this grief thing under control. Then I was brushing my teeth when some thought of Mary Helen broke in and I dissolved in tears. Have you ever tried to brush your teeth while sobbing? No, well it is quite challenging.

I had thought this would be a good day. But what is a bad day? She is in heaven. Missing my sweetheart is not bad. It is life. It is real. And yet grief is unpredictable. I have sudden onsets of sobbing. No wonder my family does not understand. They cannot. I am an unpredictable mess.

Then Thursday, June 2nd, dawned. Mary Helen’s birthday. My daughter came in the late afternoon and we talked. Through my tears we reminisced. I tried to explain the unexplainable. She had some good suggestions. Her husband arrived for dinner and I served my version of curry. Not such a bad day.  

The next day was our anniversary. It was a very rough day. I was alone all day. I went for a rural ramble to Bewdley and then to Alderville to fill up on cheap gas. I probably should have arranged to be with someone. I called one of our friends from another church who had been trying to reach me. That helped some. And I responded to a missionary colleague who had just learned about Mary Helen’s passing. He shared about his son’s serious cancer. That brought some perspective to my self-indulgent woes. Truly I am blessed. I had 63 years with Mary Helen. So many others have so much less.

Saturday dawns. I head for downtown Port Hope to the farmers’ market where I discovered the town taken over by bikers. Not just any bikers. But Canadian veterans from the wars in Afghanistan, Iraq, and even Korea. Wandering up and down the aisles of parked bikes, chatting occasionally with a grizzled veteran, I gained some more perspective.

Canadian veterans who are bikers

I know that gaining a broader view of life and death, war and peace, cancer and accidents helps me shift my view away from my loss. I know too that it doesn’t stop the grief from gripping me at random times. But it does remind me that life goes on. I will get through this without losing the happy memories Mary Helen and I made together.  

(Let me know your thoughts on this subject. If you appreciate this blog, please pass it on. Further articles, books, and stories at: http://www.countrywindow.ca Facebook: Eric E Wright Twitter: @EricEWright1 LinkedIn: Eric Wright ––)

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