Sitting With Grief

Buds has flown up to stay with his parents; an effort to offer them support and enjoy time with them as his mother continues to recover from her car accident.

Some of our best friends just picked up the three children to take them to church for their Sunday School classes.

Another best friend stepped in as Service Coordinator today since there was no way I could lead a worship service and hold myself together.

Other friends have offered help and support, and the two meetings I was supposed to have at church have vanished from my mind.

And here I sit with my grief.

For those who don’t know, my middle brother died at 8:13 p.m. last Wednesday, January 8. He’s my second brother who has died, so it’s down to just two of us.

In what I consider a blessed miracle, I already had a trip planned to stay with my brother and his wife. I was so grateful and honored to be there to help care for him, and to be present, holding loving space, as he breathed his last fluttering breaths.

There will be a memorial service in Iowa sometime this spring or summer, and eventually I’ll write about him and my memories, but for now, I’m just going to sit in my quiet house, feeling the heaviness of this loss.

The weight of grief is so different from the weight of depression; So different from the worry about the world or your loved ones. It’s gasping cries and choosing whether or not to embrace it or push it away. It’s the brief smile amidst the tears; memories and gratitude and relief.

Buds and the kids met me at the airport when I flew home. They and our friends have gathered me into loving arms and have just let me be. Wherever my grief happens to take me each day, they stand by, ready to hold and support.

I’m grateful for that. And I’m grateful for my brother.

I would rather love deeply and bear the loss than not feel the pain at all.