Grief for Good, Part Two: Accept and Adjust

A grieving woman faced a choice. Her late husband’s storage building was filled with baseball mementoes. What to do with it all? What would help her the most on her journey of life? Grief is the universal human experience. This episode is Part Two of the Grief for Good series, exploring ways to embrace the work of Mourning to move forward in life.  

Segments include:

Mourning is vital for healing in grief

Accepting the reality of loss begins our mourning

Adjusting to the new meaning of life continues the healing

We can find the good in grief

(Cover photo by piro4d on pixabay.com)

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Chapters

• 2:06 Mourning is vital for healing in grief
• 2:46 Accepting the reality of loss begins our mourning
• 7:34 Adjusting to the new meaning of life continues the healing
• 11:46 We can find the good in grief

Transcript

A grieving woman faced a choice. Her late husband had filled a storage building with his beloved collection of baseball mementoes. The unit was virtually untouched since he passed away years ago. Many times she had stood in front of the locked door, crying and unable to turn the key. Yet, so much had changed in her life since the funeral. Now the choice came. What should be done with all this stuff that he worked so hard to collect and enjoy? Is it healthy to sell it, donate it, trash it, or keep it to honor his memory? What will help her the most on her journey of life?

Grief is the universal human experience. The deep sadness may come when a dream is gone, a loved one lost, or in the words of a doctor who has no treatment left for the disease. In Part One I spoke of the reality of grief as we understand it in modern psychology. Let’s now explore ways that we can move forward in the work of living.  

The process of moving forward can be called “mourning.” Mourning describes the emotional work of adapting to the loss that we suffer. Rather than merely waiting for time to “heal all wounds,” the mourner has the power to act, reframe, adapt, and learn. Time is no guarantee of healing, but the work of mourning carries us toward fresh chapters of life. Psychologist William Worden suggests mourning involves the tasks of emotional acceptance and adjusting to the new state of life.[1]  

Accepting the Reality of Loss

Accepting the reality of the loss is a profound and lengthy work. The loved one, the great hope, or treasured connection is gone. This reality comes in waves that must be allowed to enter our life, washing over us again and again. We are grappling with the loss of life we were supposed to have. Our life story has taken a dramatic turn. 

What can we do? The helpful tool of Journaling was discussed in Part One. Taking time to put to even simple words unlocks both thoughts and feelings. Further, it is vital we talk about it with trusted friends. Silence suppresses the work we need to do physically and mentally. Turning inward also robs us of social support. We should open up about our sorrow, tell stories about the loved one, and connect with others who are in a similar situation. Tears may come and that’s okay. Worden notes it is normal to alternate between belief and disbelief. Dreams may carry us into vivid encounters with the one who has died, bringing pain when we awake to the harsh reality. We must not turn away from whatever emotions come but give ourselves permission to be sad, angry, guilty, or lonely whenever the feelings come, without judgment or shame.

We also benefit from physical markers that ground us in reality. A grave marker is traditional, but many other actions are possible. Some burn a candle each day, or fund a scholarship, or return to a favorite spot with the memories of yesterday. We live in a physical world so material reminders help along the way. The loss of a great hope can be marked with a scrapbook or a pilgrimage to an important site. 

Does what we believe about the afterlife affect how we mourn? Of course it does. Psychology is unanimous in teaching that our thought patterns about any issue shape the way we feel and behave. 

Some aspects of Christian theology bring comfort. Jesus and the rabbis of his day taught the reality of a vital spiritual existence after death, even promising to the thief hanging beside him, “Today you will be with me in Paradise.”[2] Later, the Apostle Paul preached that a believer who died was “present with the Lord.”[3]  These believers had experienced a new spiritual meaning by following the way of Jesus, therefore they could expect with certainty God would provide a blessed life after death.

My mother had battled ovarian cancer for more than five years. I drove 500 miles to visit her a few weeks before she passed. She was a shadow of herself after months of treatment. I didn’t want to talk about the reality of what was happening. But she did. “I want to go quietly. I don’t want anyone to be unhappy, just grateful. I deferred to talk about the church I was serving, Jan’s busy life, and each of the four children. I left her with a long hug and her blessing—and cried in the airport for a long time. A few weeks later, friends made that 500 mile trip to be with me and my family as we laid her to rest. Their presence helped me accept the tragic reality of her death.

Adjusting to a New Status

Adjusting to the new state of life is the second task of mourning. According to David Kessler, this work is pervaded by the search for meaning after so much has changed.[4] The mourner must answer, “Who am I financially… socially… sexually… or spiritually…now?” Part of one’s identity was bound up with the deceased. Now that context is gone, and the questions are real. “I was a husband but now I am a widower.” Or, “I had a secure income but now there is no money coming in.” In the work of grief, we must come up with the answers to our new identity, status, context, and future. The widow I mentioned in the beginning was forced to come to grips with her new identity as the owner of thousands of items she cared nothing about. It had been valuable to him, but she had realized it was not for her to carry forward. She turned toward the work by engaging the grown children to create a plan. After consulting with other collectors, they took action to keep a few items for themselves and held an auction in her husband’s honor. It became a celebration of his life that touched many friends.

Adjustment to a new understanding about our identity grasps a renewal of hope and energy. “My loved one is gone but I am living. I owe myself and God the work of creating a new future.” Deliberately and thoughtfully, we pick up the pieces to create a new portrait and vision. We act on those parts of life we can control. We embrace the privilege of learning new skills. We take the risk to form new relationships that bring a fresh breath of energy. Obviously, finding this new meaning comes in incremental steps. Some failures may occur. But across many days and nights, the Spirit of God does a work of mercy and renewal which brings hope to life. 

Our beliefs can aid healthy adjustment to the new reality. A poll by the Pew Organization tallied that 72% of Americans believe in Heaven and 66% believe that Heaven could be attained through many spiritual traditions. This universalism finds a clear voice in progressive Christian theology. Paul asserts that God intends a complete redemption for all persons, “to bring unity to all things in heaven and on earth under Christ.”[5]  The love, mercy, and creative power of God leads to the confidence that the work of God has extended to billions who never knew the name of specific name of Yahweh or Jesus. To me, it seems apparent that all humans who have lived, perhaps 110 billion through the 300,000 years of Homo sapiens, will ultimately be loved into the everlasting kingdom. John the Gospel writer has Jesus declaring, “When I am lifted up from the earth, I will draw all people to myself.”[6] I think he really meant it!

Dr. Kessler offers an insight on the healing that comes when we do the work of healthy mourning.  “We heal from grief when we remember the loved one with more love than pain. We build love around the pain and make it a part of the love.”

It took my Dad many months to do the work of mourning. We talked often. He worked on business projects, made a trip with my family to a church retreat, and tried new social connections. Many months later, he attended a high school reunion and reconnected with a woman he had known in those teenage years. His steps toward healing had opened his heart to a new adventure that changed his life and mine.

The work of mourning can bring good out of the suffering we experience. Acceptance and Adjustment mark the path that leads to new adventures on the sacred journey. We will be different than who we were. We will honor God’s gift of life and the legacy of who we lost or what we hoped to do. God walks with us in the process, fulfilling the divine proclamation, “I am making all things new!”[7]

[1] I’ve condensed Wordon’s four tasks to two. J. William Worden, Grief Counseling and Grief Therapy, 4th Ed. Springer Publishing, 2009
[2] Luke 23:43
[3] 2 Corinthians 5:8
[4] David Kessler, “Finding Meaning: The Sixth Stage of Grief” online seminar. Personal Notes by author

[5] Ephesians 2:10
[6] John 12:32
[7] Revelation 21:5