“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.
Surprised By Joy 