Grieving Well

One day my sons will be walking down the street and something will remind them of me. They will have that sudden melancholy that overtakes those who have loved and lost to never regain again. They will have regrets mingled with joy, a precious treasure that none can take away.

I want my sons to grieve well. They won’t know how to do it until the time comes and will stumble at it. Father will come along side and teach how to rely on His grace that will carry them through that experience and replace me with Him.

It is a very common prayer of mine that asks to survive my kids’ developmental years. I consider grief and trauma specialties and have worked with a lot of kids experiencing loss. You never do it well. Our minds are programmed to believe that our parents will be there forever in spite of our rational understanding and knowledge that they won’t. I have come to believe that it is only by God’s grace that we can endure such reprogramming that reality hands us.

I often go to the cemetery alone to stand over Dad’s grave, somehow trying to feel his presence that I haven’t experienced in the 3 ½ years since he’s died. There is a solace there standing in the presence of his grave. I like to do this alone but often, Mom, when finding out where I’m going wants to come along. It’s not the same. I drive slowly through the small town of my upbringing. (For those of you who know me this speaks volumes.) The streets are familiar with me. They knew me from of old when I traveled them on my bicycle. The buildings are dilapidated. Many of them do not seem to have changed from those many years ago. What am I looking for? I think I’m drinking in the nostalgia that included my dad. I’m searching for his presence. This too is a part of the grieving process. I am learning to let go and be reprogrammed.