The Heart of Grief

We are never immune..

“For in grief nothing stays put. One keeps on emerging from a phase, but it always recurs. Round and round. Everything repeats. Am I going in circles, or dare I hope I am on a spiral?

But if a spiral, am I going up or down it?

How often -- will it be for always? -- how often will the vast emptiness astonish me like a complete novelty and make me say, "I never realized my loss till this moment"? The same leg is cut off time after time.” ― C.S. Lewis, A Grief Observed

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I can see it like it was yesterday. I was about seven years old when my parents told me we were going to get our first dog. We drove to San Francisco, in our white station wagon, and arrived on this sloped street where the houses were all colorful. My nana’s cousin lived in America and he had this huge four year old white fluffy dog, named King, that they could no longer keep. Something about their place not allowing pets. For almost 4 years I would race home from school to be greeted by the kindest, gentlest boy. I loved him with my whole heart and one day he was gone. Cancer.

The first time I remember experiencing the pang of grief was when we lost King. I was a typically healthy child but at this point I realized, at the age of ten, that sorrow could cause illness. Deep sorrow and never-ending tears could, in fact, bring on a pitiful head-cold.

As I sit here today, on my bed, sick again, with another round of body aches and never-ending sniffles, I wondered when I would be strong again. It’s been a rough few years. When would my immune system defend itself from the common cold and flu? I have felt God’s goodness and closeness in sorrowful times. It must be His way of holding us up for a brief period until our leg is cut off again.

Loss of any kind is like a spiral and we do hope that it’s going up. I’ve often talked about how grief and joy walk alongside one another. It’s true. They do. It takes tremendous faith and trust to allow God, our tour Guide, to point out the moments of joy along the way. The mind is a very powerful tool and it can not only aid in healing, but it can aid in hurting. We can miss moments meant for nourishment.

Nourishment that revives a broken heart.

When I hear the music my dad loved I smile rather than see him in tremendous pain. Sometimes I cry but they are grateful tears full of good memories.

In googling “what can grieving do to your body?” I got this answer:

“Grief can cause a variety of effects on the body including increased inflammation, joint pain, headaches, and digestive problems. It can lower your immunity, making you more susceptible to illness. Grief can also contribute to cardiovascular problems, difficulty sleeping, and unhealthy coping mechanisms.”

Grief By The Numbers: Facts and Statistics from The Recovery Village gives us an idea of how many people are in some type of grief or distress in the United States. “Estrangement Grief” mimics the same effects of suffering and bereavement, much like when a person you know dies.

I was at the park last week with my little granddaughter. A park that I had often visited with another granddaughter. Joy and grief pushing the swing, joy and grief climbing the slide, joy and grief walking along, holding hands. As I was talking with a sweet dad, who’s little daughter was going down a slide with my granddaughter, a beautiful purebred Akita dog was walking by with its owner. At 6 months old she was full of wiggles and excitement and both of the little girls wanted to pet her. I mentioned how hard it was for me to see a Samoyed dog (similar fluff) for many years. It lasted well into my late 20’s. In a moment, caught off-guard, the dad said, “that was our first dog.” I talked about that “frog in the throat” feeling and he went quiet.

We are never immune from grief, on any level. Whether a child or an adult, it travels in circles, going round and round, never staying put. I cannot imagine a life without faith to cling to and the belief that joy can be the conduit to the mind., a river flowing into the heart, washing over grief, building my strength… if only for a period of time before I stumble… again.

What do we live for, if not to make life less difficult for each other? —  George Eliot