When Grief Visits During the Holidays

The event was several years ago, but I remember it often, especially during this time of year. I was invited to a seminar on dealing with loss during the holidays. Although I was interested in the topic, it was its title that sealed my attendance:

Meeting Grief with Grace.

I would have never imagined those two words—grief and grace—in the same sentence together. In my experience, grief has been a disturbing and painful foe, something most of us struggle to manage. Grace, on the other hand, is welcomed, an “unmerited kindness” as my father liked to call it—something we can either seek or give that’s comforting and soothing.

Could one possibly help us get through the other?

As I wheeled through the maze of literature and support offerings, I realized I’d never attended a lecture on grief. The presenter’s advanced degrees, her twenty-year career in hospice and bereavement management, and her organization’s record of serving seven hundred and fifty patients daily was impressive. So was the popularity of her topic, one she’d lectured on dozens of times.

Suddenly, I began to feel awkwardly naïve. Although I’d experienced tough losses, grief was apparently far more than a personal journey. It was its own entity—licensed, lectured on, and serviced.

Had I done it right?

At age twenty, after my seventeen-year-old brother’s water-skiing accident and subsequent death, I learned about Elizabeth Kübler-Ross’s stages of grief—denial, anger, bargaining, depression, and acceptance. But I had trouble remembering what each one meant, much less assessing my progress.

I slogged through that valley, clueless and uncaring about the stages. And when I was paralyzed by transverse myelitis, an illness that affects one in a million; my daughter was diagnosed with autism when, at that time, autism affected males five time more than females; and my second son developed a condition typically seen in first-born males, I started to think that life’s rules didn’t apply to me anyway.

So when the slide “Beyond Elisabeth Kubler-Ross—How We Move Through Grief” flashed onto the screen, I cringed,

What did I miss by ignoring those stages?
Would paying attention to them have made grief easier?

The answer was swift:

“Grief is not linear—there are no checkboxes.”

Then the presenter began describing MY grief experience:

“We move slowly and tenderly. . . .”
“We feel the reality and pain. . . .”
“We manage to adjust and move forward while still honoring our loved one.”

December holds the anniversary of my mother’s death. I’m never sure how grief will visit. In fact, I’ve learned that:

Grief is a strange companion—Becky Galli, Morning Fuel, December 11

Some years I cry remembering our last conversation. Other years I laugh recalling her tickle-box meltdowns at Dad’s jokes. Most years I vow to tell my kids one more story about her.

But every year, I grieve in my own way.

No right. No wrong. Just mine.

Maybe that’s how we meet grief with grace. Maybe we accept that painful foe and its unexpected visits, meeting it with tender kindness for our loved ones and ourselves.

How about you? Could meeting grief with grace ease the pain of a loss you’ve experienced?

P.S. Thanks for your responses to last week’s column on the “good enough” lesson from my sister’s famous Texas Snow recipe. For the new name of the dark chocolate version, I love Esther’s suggestion “Texas Mud” or “Mudslide” and Megan’s “Reindeer Tracks” or “Reindeer Treats.” Any other suggestions? Maybe we should take a vote!	P.P.S. I recently had the opportunity to welcome in my home Jennifer Peterkin on The Human Experience for a heartfelt conversation about life’s unexpected turns, faith, and finding our way forward. We talk about loss, raising children with special needs, and learning to live well when life doesn’t unfold as planned. I hope you’ll take a listen.