Introduction
I’m sure you noticed by now that when your loved one died, no one came to you with a little package that contained a box of tissues and a manual entitled “How to Grieve”. I could have used such a guide and I imagine you would have liked one, too. But chances are we would have thrown it on the pile of sympathy cards and letters, paying no attention to it whatever, because we were in no more condition to read a book on grief than we were to fly to the moon!
This little book is a collection of things I’ve observed and learned in the three years since my own sweet husband left this physical world. My intention in sharing them is to bring hope and faith to your grieving process. It is a process and it is necessary. It doesn’t happen in a micro-wave minute (which would be my preference). It has its ups and downs. If you are going to allow the rest of your life to be an expression of the love you knew in the relationship you just lost, you will choose not to avoid it.
Key #1 – Your Life Will Never be the Same
When the Tsunami Comes
The sudden shut down of all these connections causes a surge of reactions - emotional, physical, and mental. I call this a tsunami because when grief comes your feet are suddenly where you head was a minute ago. From that point on, normal is not ever normal again. My grieving mind didn’t get it. I tried to nap my way back to normal. Seriously! I thought if I could just take a nice, long nap I would wake up and find that this had all been a nightmare and Tom was still alive.
When a tsunami occurs it takes out utilities, roads, and everything that makes life normal. What was a smooth way from here to there is suddenly impassable, you can’t go back, and the road ahead seems nonexistent at the worst and at best it is unpaved, dark, and scary. If you look closely you may notice a street sign haphazardly swinging in the wind, pointing the way to “New Normal”. I didn’t see the street sign, so I didn’t understand about “New Normal” until months later. But whether I was aware of it or not, it had begun developing in my life. And I was not ready.
What now? The enemy of your soul will come at this point and try to frighten you.
Here is a truth can help you stay right-side-up: the promises of God are still in place. On February 20, 2014 the Lord spoke this to me (not in an audible voice but by an inner impression), “Nothing foundational has changed. Tom is not with you physically, but underneath your life are my everlasting arms. My promise not to leave you nor forsake you is still intact. I am still your Source for every need. I am your Comforter, your Strengthener, and your Helper.” Here are a few promises that were (and still are) words of hope that I live by:
“The eternal God is your refuge, and underneath are the everlasting arms.” (Deut. 33:27,NKJV)
“Blessed be the God and Father of our Lord Jesus Christ, the Father of mercies and God of all comfort, who comforts us in all our tribulation, that we may be able to comfort those who are in any trouble, with the comfort with which we ourselves are comforted by God.” (I Cor. 1:3-4, NKJV)
“And I will pray the Father, and He will give you another Helper that He may abide with you forever- the Spirit of truth whom the world cannot receive, because it neither sees Him nor knows Him; but you know Him, for He dwells with you and will be in you. I will not leave you orphans; I will come to you.” (John 14:16-18, NKJV)
God is not human, that he should lie, not a human being, that he should change his mind. Does he speak and then not act? Does he promise and not fulfill? (Numbers 23:19, NIV)
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The truth of God’s promises helped fortify me but they didn’t take away the pain of loss. The Apostle Paul in I Thessalonians 4:13 recognized that we would grieve, but encouraged us as Christians in the midst of the very real pain of loss, not to sorrow as others who have no hope. With all my heart I made the decision right then and there not to dishonor Tom nor desert my faith in God by melting into a pile of emotions. I was a woman with promises . . . a woman with hope.
“Normal” doesn’t live here anymore! Even though the surroundings are unchanged, they seem different somehow. The remnants of plans for the future lie silently in the background of your mind. Tasks that must be done are demanding attention – tasks that your loved one always handled. It’s a bit like being in the twilight zone.
Let what I learned help you move from the initial shock of loss to the new season of life that is ahead of you. Be encouraged. You can make it.