This past week, our family suffered a loss. It is not primarily my loss. Not a death, but a very real grief, none the less.
I tried to put words to my feelings, because that’s just what I do. This is a private matter that I cannot discuss with anyone, so I said just to myself, “I feel like someone punched me in the gut.” And “The wind has abandoned my sails.”
There is now a line of work called “professional grief counselors.” They have apparently come up with certain steps every grief-stricken person must go through. I contend that every grief is unique and to say that everyone grieves the same way is condescending and plain wrong.
I always go right to “sad.” I always wish for “fury.” The is a lot of energy in anger. None in sad.
I think the word “closure” is an obscenity. You may eventually get both your feet back under you and begin to put one foot in front of the other, but grief holds a permanent place in your heart.
This morning, in the produce aisle, I bumped into a dear old friend. Literally old. In her nineties. We were both buying fresh vegetables to make soup this weekend.
She is a prolific and highly regarded painter in the Northwest, still painting every day and still driving herself to Seattle to visit her daughter.
She noticed my limp, so I confided that I was recovering from knee surgery but that the grocery cart is a really good support for getting in my daily walk. I don’t much like the look of a walker.
We agreed that the past couple of years have taught us many things, such as that we must be open to change and adapt to it with grace. We both said we have been doing a lot of reading.
Ironically — or perhaps not — even though I had not mentioned our family’s loss to her, she quoted from a book Elizabeth Edwards wrote. Maybe you remember that Elizabeth was the wife of Senator John Edwards who was a jerk and philanderer, who cheated on her and fathered a child while she was campaigning for him and fighting breast caner.
“She stood in the storm, and when the wind did not blow her way, she adjusted her sails.”
Sometimes, figuratively speaking, you have to put your finger in your mouth and then hold it up to see which way the breeze is coming from.
We may be becalmed for a while but then we will adjust our sails and feel a new breeze.
