Monday Mourning

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“If I had a flower for every time I thought of you…I could walk through my garden forever.” – Paulo Coehlo

The other day I needed to drop off something at the church where my dad last served as senior pastor. It’s also where his ashes are interred so I stopped by the Memorial Garden and put my hand on his stone. Even now, almost eight years after his sudden death in a bicycle accident, tears immediately sprung to my eyes as I imagined all the things I want to talk with him about and even heard his answers down in my bones.

After I’d been standing there for a couple of minutes, someone that knew my dad and knows me walked by. She simply whispered, “Beautiful picture” as she passed.

I’ve been thinking about that moment as I’ve watched the celebration of Queen Elizabeth II. Grief for someone who has done life well or is touched our lives significantly has its moments of being so beautiful. It celebrates both our relationship with them as well as what they did well in life. For me processing my grief means that I can start to distill the most important lessons I learned from those I’ve lost.

Trying to get a perspective on the huge topic of grief, I turned to Atlas of the Heart by Brené Brown. She quotes the work of The Center for Complicated Grief at Columbia on their definitions of grief which include both acute grief, which marks the initial period after a loss, and integrated grief.

Integrated grief is the result of adaptation to the loss. When a person adapts to a loss grief is not over. Instead, thoughts, feelings and behaviors related to their loss are integrated in ways that allow them to remember and honor the person who died. Grief finds a place in their life.

The Center for Complicated Grief

Specific to my dad, I feel as if the longer he’s gone, the more I embody him. It’s as if I relied on him as a source of energy and wisdom for all those years he was alive and now that I don’t have him to do it in person, I’ve had to become that energy source. There are also others who I’ve grieved and in that process have learned the lessons of what not to become so it’s worked both ways.

Despite that integrating, I still leak tears when I talk to my dad. And also ache for those going through acute grief in all those rending and earth-shattering emotions.  We stand on the shoulders on those who went before us – may we remember all their lessons, good and bad, and honor them in those beautiful still moments.

62 thoughts on “Monday Mourning”

  1. *Warning* – typing with tears in my eyes may result in a typo or two…but I didn’t want to wait and respond later. Right now, Wynne, I want you to know I love your post – especially this: “the longer he’s gone the more I embody him”. Beautiful. Sending love! ❤

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  2. So beautiful. I feel this way about my Mother. It’s like she wove her very being into her loved ones when she passed. She is still very much with us in all that we do. It feels very sacred.

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    1. I love your phrase “she wove her very being into her loved ones when she passed”! That’s so beautiful, Mary! And you’re right – it does feel sacred. Thank you for your lovely comment!

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      1. I guess I didn’t think much about that line when I wrote it, but after you posted this reply earlier, I immediately knew I had to write down the words that were in my head. I am going to post what I wrote in the morning and I hope you like it!

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  5. So beautifully written. You and I have such a common history. I’ll try to dig out the link of my post on my dad and share. Sending you care.

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  6. Another thought I have had as I’ve aged, is the closer we get to the age of our deceased loved one in their latest years. That is, it is possible we observe likenesses we failed to see earlier. In any case, my condolences, Wynne.

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    1. Oh, that makes so much sense – love how you say “it is possible we observe likenesses we failed to see earlier.” Wow, how lovely to age together! 🙂

      Thanks, Dr. Stein!

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  7. All so very true and well said, Wynne. I lost both of my parents when I was a young adult; now our sons (and you!) are nearing the age when they died. And my husband and I are at the age where that mortal coil extends its reach to friends and acquaintances with increasing frequency. So I have many, many people who were such important parts of my life who are no longer here physically, but they haven’t left me. Not at all. The people close to you remain a constant and reassuring presence … forever. 💕

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    1. I love how you affirm that “The people close to you remain a constant and reassuring presence…forever.” That’s beautiful. I’m sorry you lost your parents so young but I love that they’ve remained close to you all these years! Thank you for this beautiful comment, Jane!

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  8. This is so moving. I feel the same way about my grandfather and I don’t think that grief gets any easier over time, just days where it’s less raw but the wound is always there. Your dad would be proud of you. You’re an amazing mom, a beautiful person, and you have a great heart. Thanks for sharing this part of yourself with all of us.

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    1. Oh, thank you, LaShelle! You put it beautifully – just days where it’s less raw. Yes, that’s true. And even the rawness starts to feel like sweet reminders of him!

      Hoping you have a great day my beautiful and amazing friend!

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      1. Thanks lovely! Hanging out with my husband today 🥰 running farm errands and trying to come up with a good birthday post for my birthday this coming weekend 🎂🎈. Hope your day is wonderful too!

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  9. Been there Wynne . . .

    “You are sad now, but I shall see you again, and your hearts will be full of joy, and that joy no one shall take from you” – John 16:22

    Keep Looking Up . . . a Eternal Reunion Awaits!

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  10. Touched my heart, Wynne.
    I like …. “For me processing my grief means that I can start to distill the most important lessons I learned from those I’ve lost.”
    I have missed and will continue to mis my dad for the past 31 years and grandfather for the past 54 years but they are never far from my heart.
    Love

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  11. Thank you for sharing this so beautifully and with such vulnerability, Wynne.

    I get wonderful glimpses of your dad through your Sunday updates and other stories you’ve shared.

    I can relate to how you feel in that the grief never leaves and the tears leak as you’ve said. It’s wonderful you can still visit him and feel that closeness with him. 💕🙏

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  13. Absolutely beautiful, Wynne! ❤️ And I had not heard the term “integrated grief” or the difference between that and acute grief. Thank you for the transparent and beautiful post! ❤️

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  15. Another beautiful and very touch post, Wynne. My own father passed away when I was 2 years old, and I often wonder how my life might be different had he been in my life longer. How blessed you were to have your dad for as long as you did. What an amazing dad you had, and what an amazing daughter he and your mom raised. He lives on in you.

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  16. I feel these emotions Wynne. I’m so sorry for your loss and that’s even more painful when it’s abrupt and unexpected. It sounds like you were close with your father and I can relate to that as well. I don’t think I can yet comprehend what it will be like to lose my dad someday, but I agree the key isn’t to eliminate grief but to learn to live with it. My art has always served me in this way so I’m sure I’ll be using that (and blogging) as a tool to heal. I’m so glad you have this outlet as well. Hugs to you!! 💖

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  18. Thanks for sharing the memories of your father, a gentle soul who shared a view that everything is possible in the world. Where a man’s virtue is measured by productive achievement and the wisdom he passes on to future generations. In this context, your father’s spirit will live on.
    Love the black and white photograph!

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  20. What a great observation on a painful part of life. It’s also a great reminder that we indeed are standing on the shoulders of our predecessors, and it’s up to us to continue that trend for our future generations. Thanks for this beautiful post, Wynne!

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  21. Oh my dear Wynne, I feel every word you’ve spoken. Loss is no stranger for me. I understand completely the loss of parents, siblings and many others. As I’ve come down the path of grief I came to understand and can assure you they are with us and there will be joy in reunion. Much love, 💕

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    1. Beautifully said, Alegria! “As I’ve come down the path of grief I came to understand and can assure you they are with us and there will be joy in reunion. ” Indeed!! Thank you my friend! ❤

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  22. I believe the goal of most parents is to have their kids embody them when they’re gone. I know that’s true for me. So, rest assured that your dad would be very happy over the fact that he lives on through you now.

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    1. Oh, I’m so sorry about your father’s death – especially so close to your cancer diagnosis. You are right – the death of a parent is the death of a life long friend and the bond is amazing. Thanks for adding this comment to the post. Sending all my best.

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  24. There was an old lady at church yesterday, whom I’d always seen accompanied by her husband. I asked her after church if her husband was okay. She burst into tears. He had died. She tried to explain how, but the language barrier was making it difficult for me to understand her. She kept repeating and trying to write with her finger on her hand, but I couldn’t get it. I just hope my hugs and telling her how sorry I was and promise of prayer was enough. Dear sweet lady. Even grief from the outside is hard. I feel for you and for her.

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    1. Oh, how sweet of you to ask after her. And I know your hug, prayers and just the fact that you let her cry helped a TON. Keeping it inside just makes it worse so knowing people like you care is just the balm she needs. What a lovely story – I’m so glad you told me!

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      1. I was walking up to communion behind her and thought, “I should probably ask. I wonder if he died.” I was hoping he was just at home sick. I do hope my asking helped. Later I saw someone else in the parking lot talking with her, and apparently understanding her just fine, so I’m glad she had a better encounter to end on before she left. I felt I had botched it by something I said that would be better suited in a text than a public blog.

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  25. Thank you for sharing!!… your father occupies a part of your heart and he is there for you always to help you through the difficult times and well as the good times…. 🙂

    When tomorrow starts without me
    And I’m not here to see,
    If the sun should rise and find your eyes
    Filled with tears for me.

    I wish so much you wouldn’t cry
    The way you did today,
    While thinking of the many things
    We didn’t get to say.

    I know how much you love me
    As much as I love you,
    And each time you think of me
    I know you’ll miss me too.

    When tomorrow starts without me
    Don’t think we’re far apart,
    For every time you think of me
    I’m right there in your heart.
    (Alena Hakala Meadows)

    Until we meet again..
    May your day be touched
    by a bit of Irish luck,
    Brightened by a song
    in your heart,
    And warmed by the smiles
    of people you love.
    (Irish Saying)

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    1. Wow, Dutch, that is a beautiful poem. Thank you for sharing and for your wisdom that he’s here for the good and bad times!! Wishing you a lovely and wonderful day!

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