Journey from Grieving to Thriving

How can we navigate the path after the loss of a loved one? I think we must shift the focus away from seeking "closure"—a misleading term—to the active process of adjusting to a new reality. The work emphasizes that while grief is a complex physical and emotional disruption, real healing is about adjusting to a new normal where they are still present in your heart, but your life continues to grow. Learn from the insights of Scripture, George Bonanno, and David Kessler toward a path of meaning and hope.

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I remember the first time I saw a dead person. I awakened to answer the phone and heard the voice of an older woman, a member of my small church in rural Oklahoma. Pastor, he's dead. John's dead. Come help me. I hurried through the dark streets to her house. The man lay in the bed, pale and cold and still. She explained he had gone to bed not feeling well, and when she checked on him sometime later he didn't respond. Now he lay between us, dead, the spirit of his life departed. As we waited for the police and mortuary workers to arrive, I formed a circle of prayer with the stunned widow and the deceased. One of my hands held warm, moist flesh, the other hand touched cold and immobile skin. My prayer thanked God for his life and the promise of eternal life with Christ. An hour later the body left the house with the mortuary workers. His widow stood shocked and quiet. What was ahead for her? Hi friends, this is Larry Payne, your Tracks for the Journey network host. Tracks for the Journeys dedicated to your well-being with insights from spirituality, psychology, and ethics. In this episode, I want to share some ways to walk on this path of grief. What is grief? We use the word to name the complex of emotions we feel when a loss occurs. In the immediate days after loss, physical sensations sweep across our body, provoking muscle weakness, shortness of breath, tightening in the chest, and hollowness in the stomach. Then we think differently, maybe not believing it's real or being so confused we can't remember anything. In this time we experience a mix of emotions unique to our own personality. It may bring anger, guilt, loneliness, sadness, or numbness. Our behaviors change as we have no appetite, withdraw from others, or even lash out in anger. I think it's comforting to know that Jesus experienced the darkness of grief. The scriptures describe how Jesus was quote troubled, end quote, standing at the grave of his friend Lazarus. The adjective conveys a physical shuddering of anger, anguish, and sorrow as Jesus sobbed in grief with his friends. As I left the new widow that night long ago, all of this and more was settling in her mind. And most of us have felt that way too. The shadow of loss and grief comes to every human heart in time. Does what you believe about the afterlife affect how you grieve? Of course it does. Psychology is unanimous in teaching that our thought patterns about any issue shape the way we feel and behave. The Apostle Paul wrote, quote, We do not want you to be uninformed about those who sleep in death so that you do not grieve like the rest of mankind who have no hope. For we believe that Jesus died and rose again, and so we believe that God will bring with Jesus those who have fallen asleep in him. The apostle was offering comfort by asserting to these believers that they had experienced a new way of living in Jesus, and therefore they could expect with certainty God would provide new life after death. I believe we should be honest, though. Such peace after the death of a loved one does not come easily. After the acute phase of grief that I described earlier comes the long process of adjusting to life in the absence of that beloved person. This is the reality of the empty boots at a military funeral or the empty chair at the Thanksgiving table. The strong arms or bright smile of the friend is gone. Our memories are the only place we can find to share what was once a vital experience. I don't believe the word closure should ever be used to describe the goal of our grief. That implies our feelings are finished, that we've put them in the past. How ridiculous is that? We don't close our memories to some storage unit and forget the ones we miss. Forget about closure. And let's replace it with the truth of adjusting. Over time, our grief experience can move towards adjustment to a new normal. We process the pain by reflecting, talking, praying, and letting go of the old shape of life. We begin to tell a new story about our identity and relationship in the absence of our loved one. In this time of grieving, we will begin to discover and hold to the good memories, the legacy, and the honor granted to us to share that life. Across many days and nights, the Spirit of God does a work of mercy that brings comfort and hope. What I've described in this adjustment process is supported by research. Dr. Bonanno, in his book The End of Trauma, reports that most people do adjust after some time has passed. There is a period of moderate to severe disruption with the mix of feelings we know so well. And yet as time goes on, the process as we grow flexible in our mindset, with confidence in our ability to cope, and a willingness to meet the challenges we face, we begin to change. The ways to cope will vary with each personality, and that's okay. We do get better as those long nights pass and the new days begin to dawn. The work of David Kessler provides guidance for our work of grieving. Kessler suggests we are working on two fundamental questions. One is who am I without him? And the second is what is my new relationship with him? The first question is focused on the absence of our loved one. We might ask who am I financially now that this has happened? Who am I socially or sexually or spiritually? Part of our identity was bound up with that person we loved and the context now is gone. I might be a husband that is now a widower, or I had a secure income, but now there's no money coming in. In the work of grief we must come up with the answers to our new identity, sta status, context, and future. I counseled a middle aged widow who faced these questions after her husband's sudden death. He had done all the financial work for the couple. She was an educational professional and had steady income, but still she struggled for months with understanding what to do with the bills, the investments, and the property. She felt like she was thrown into a swirling sea of confusion with her hands tied by the grief she was experiencing. David Kessler also says a second question is crucial. What is my new relationship with my loved one? Now that may sound strange because a relationship on an earthly basis has been broken. This is a question of deeper meaning. The bereaved is forced to adjust to the reality of a different connection, one of memories, unfulfilled plans, or holidays without the hugs that meant so much. The loved one is absent from active interaction, but so very present as a dynamic emotional presence. The widow I mentioned a moment ago was faced with a two thousand square foot garage her husband had filled with his hobbies, tools, and equipment for projects that would never be done. Weeks after his death, she opened that door for the first time and collapsed in tears as the memories and the overwhelming work flooded her mind. She was angry at having so much to do, and debated on what he would want or not. Her relationship to him was overcome with the relationship to these things of his as she stood there that day. What are ways to form a new relationship to the absence and yet the presence of the one we've lost? I think we take a vital step when we turn from isolation and lean on the people we trust. It's normal to feel lonely or isolated and unsure how to relate to others when we're grieving. We should not stay in that private world, however. A healthy life has rich connections, so pushing past the isolation to re-engage with our network of family and friends creates positive neurochemicals that make us feel good again. We must choose perhaps to call a friend for a dinner meeting or drive to the ball game where we both used to attend. A second action comes when we reshape new ways of relating to the one who is no longer with us. I mean by this that we use the memories we have and the possessions of the loved one to create new patterns of life going forward. Perhaps we create a picture book of special moments we shared, or we place some items our loved ones treasured in a curio cabinet. We might plan a special dinner with family on the birthday of the one who is gone from the table, but alive in the emotional life of everyone every day. These actions embrace the reality of a new normal to build a different kind of relationship that can last for years to come. Let's think about that widow I talked with again. She was faced with the huge pain and that large workshop. She worked diligently on her broken heart. She found support in wise friends about money management. She enlisted the adult children to work with her in the barn, offering items to nonprofits, keeping some sentimental things, and bonding with the kids in this sacred task of honoring their father. Indeed, the pain diminished as the seasons rolled on. I'd like to leave you with a thought that Dr. Kessler believes is so crucial for us. He taught, we heal from grief when we remember the loved one with more love than pain. We build love around the pain and make it part of the love. May your grief be building a thriving new life with deeper love than ever before.