What I will bring with me

Emerging from an episode of intense grief

After this unexpectedly tough and well-documented period of intense grief I am ready to declare a tentative truce. Not victory as I am appropriately humbled by this beast called grief. But over the last several days and weeks a few things have given me renewed confidence that I am surviving the battle. And it has me reflecting on how the most painful moments often teach us the greatest lessons.

First, I have had hours and even days of pure happiness and joy. Not happdy - that “kind of happy but waiting for the other shoe to drop” but just wonderful, pure joy. Of course I have had these moments throughout the last 20 months. But something about emerging from the depths makes these moments more intense. I have often said (probably too often!) that no one enjoys a perfect June day as much as those of us who survive brutal New England winters. I think the joy of the last several weeks is a similar thing - more cherished in contrast.

The second lesson I hope I bring forth into whatever new seasons of grief and living lie ahead is a more nuanced understanding of something Chuck used to share with me and the girls and that I discussed earlier in my journey. It was the concept of not knowing what was happening in other people’s lives. Early on I processed this as a call to grace to understand invisible burdens and suffering that might cause behavior that was either hurtful or inscrutable. Today I also see it with new eyes. As I have said, this last period of grief surprised me with its intensity and timing - coming so many months after Chuck’s death. But I have been equally surprised by the decisions I am making to bring me peace, happiness and joy. They are not what I expected. And that has led me to two insights I want to hold onto. One is that judging any of the emotional reactions of those processing loss is wrong. I fear I may have been guilty of this in the past. None of us really know what another person’s heart has been through and what path their healing will take - even if we believe we have witnessed their journey.

And the second part of this learning is just how important communication becomes especially with those we love most. Sometimes we assume that our spouse, parents, children or other loved ones know what is in our hearts. But to build off what Chuck said - we can’t always know what others are feeling. Especially when we are processing deep emotions. At these moments it is imperative - if difficult - to voice our emotions and thoughts. Despite his well-known reputation for being a man of few words, Chuck excelled here. And despite my well-documented experience with lots (LOTS) of words, this hasn’t always been an area of strength for me. I have had to be intentional, especially with the girls, in telling them how I am feeling and how that is influencing my actions. When I assume they know what is in my heart, I am often wrong. And even when they may know, hearing me say it is often important nonetheless.

Lastly, as all three girls and I find our footing, I am once again tremendously grateful to Chuck for committing to raising our daughters in my Catholic faith. Chuck wasn’t Catholic but shared my belief that a foundation of faith was among the most important and enduring gifts we give our children. He admired how much of my faith was family centered and handed down through generations of family members - primarily women: my mom and grandmothers - who were wonderful living examples of our Catholic faith in action. Once he made that commitment neither internal church scandals nor the challenges of raising independent, thoughtful girls in today’s day and age could dissuade Chuck from sticking with our plan. While none of the girls may see how faith has illuminated our path forward; and it is still-to-be-determined by each of them if they will follow the same course with their own children one day, I have seen the wisdom of and been comforted greatly by that long ago commitment we made as parents. What I will take forward is that when we made our oath to each other and God we could not have predicted this season of grief. But what we could predict was that there would be challenges for our yet-to-be-born children that even the most conscientious and loving parents cannot spare their children. And in those moments or seasons the values and faith structures we have bestowed on them and nourished - for them and ourselves - are the greatest gift. Despite the great role models I have and the strength of my faith, I am at times lazy and cavalier regarding its practice. Yet, like most people of faith, at my lowest moments it is where I turn. It is an important reminder to stay focused on the values and priorities I profess.

Embracing joy, giving grace, voicing my feelings to those closest to me and practicing my faith religiously are all important lessons to take with me. Not an equal trade for the hurt and pain but something to fuel forward progress.