Mourner's Bill of Rights--Tenet Ten

The final tenet of the Mourner's Bill of Rights.

10. You have the right to move toward your grief and heal.

Reconciling your grief will not happen quickly. Remember, grief is a process, not an event. Be patient and tolerant with yourself and avoid people who are impatient and intolerant with you. Neither you nor those around you must forget that the death of someone loved changes your life forever. 

This is it.  Day 365.  One year has passed.  Is this all?  Are we supposed to get a medal?  Am I supposed to have some profound spiritual experience?  Is it a wrap for "Grief Survivor?"

"Still" is the word for today.

• I still ache, a physical ache where my heart is supposed to be.
• I still think this is a dream and I will wake up and Zach will be here.
• I still weep over sentimental songs.  Yesterday, Lovely and I got teary when we heard "I'll Be Seeing You" at the Jonesborough Repertory Theatre's USO Show.
• I still look at photographs and think I can reach into the picture and touch him and take him.
• I still feel that unbearable longing.
• I drove past three of his workplaces today.  Still I look in the windows.  Looking for what?
• Still his car is in the driveway.  Will I wait to do something with it until every tire goes flat?
• Still I catch myself staring blankly.
• Still I want to be alone.
• Still I ask, "Why?"
• Still I love him.

Mourner's Bill of Rights--Tenet Nine

Here is tenet 9 from the Mourner's Bill of Rights.  

You have the right to treasure your memories.

Memories are one of the best legacies that exist after the death of someone loved. You will always remember. Instead of ignoring your memories, find others with whom you can share them.

Normally I would include commentary at this point from Chelsea.   Unfortunately, I tried to change my email address and messed up the subscription.  She cut me off at day 299.   Thus I lost her comments on the last two Mourner's Bill of Rights.   I will have to manage by myself.

If you are worried about my relationship with Chelsea, fear not.  I started the relationship anew and now we are on day 9.  Maybe if I start the grief year over, I'll improve.   Here is what she sent today:

Dear john shuck,

10 Things You Need to Know About Grief

1. Almost every thought, feeling and behavior is normal.
2. You will survive.
3. Healing takes both time and work.
4. Crying is good.
5. It's okay to express your emotions.
6. Lean on others for support.
7. It's okay to fall apart.
8. Talk about it.
9. You are safe.
10. You are not alone.

Very good.

Now back to tenet 9 of the Mourner's Bill of Rights. 

My congregation has given me six weeks of bereavement leave.   Michelle and Cooper have come to spend a week.   Here is Coop at Bob Evans:

 He is a cutie and nearly a year old.   We have been treasuring him and recalling Zachisms.   Here are Michelle and Zach:

As I mentioned in my most recent sermon, last year on Father's Day was the last day we saw him.   We are approaching the year anniversary of his death, June 28.   I still find myself in moments of denial.   I still think it is temporary and he will come back through the front door.

I know I have "the right" to treasure memories.  I wonder if I will ever get to the point at which I can do so.   Memories feel like torture.  Yes, we remember.  We laugh.  But it rips.  I look at a picture and I want to go in there and grab him.

Like this one.  Lovely found this from our trip to Maine in 1994.  That was a great vacation.  Zach and I climbed "the beeehive."   Here are "my buddies and the sea."

I am going to be spending some of this bereavement leave finding pictures to treasure.  When that gets too painful, I'll just zone out.

Mourner's Bill of Rights--Tenet Eight

This is number eight in the Mourner's Bill of Rights with comments from Chelsea:

"You have the right to search for meaning."

~ Alan Wolfelt's eighth tenet of the Right of Mourners

"Why?"
"Why did this happen?"
"Why me?"
"What is the meaning behind this?"

How many times have you asked yourself these questions? It can be an endless circle of questioning and not finding answers. However, as you surrender to the not knowing, you may begin to feel more peace and understanding.

You do not have to accept other people's answers.

You may have received comments from people trying to give meaning to loss, such as "There is a reason for everything," "God has a plan," or "At least you got all those years with them." These answers typically don't provide comfort and may certainly hurt your feelings. Instead, look for your own answers.

It's okay to search for your own personal meaning and your way to make sense of things.

Chelsea

Nice work, Chelsea.  Good answer.

Job asked the same question.  He received no answer from God and crappy answers from his friends.  The clever trick of that ancient story is that we the readers know the answer.  We know exactly why Job suffered.  God was making bets with Satan.  That is a creative way of saying that there is no reason.  There is no better statement for ancient atheism than the book of Job.  The author of Job pushed the limits of divine meaning to the absurd.   It is a preposterous story which is of course the point.   There is no meaning or plan to any of it.  No one is calling the shots.   No divine protector is shielding people from tornadoes, hunger, war, alcoholism, or suicidal tendencies.   No divine being is making it all better.

That is just what I think.  But I don't know if my thoughts are normal. 

As Chelsea says, "You do not have to accept other people's answers," including mine.  

Let us ask anyway.

Why?

Why isn't Zach a happy 26 year old man?  Why isn't he here to help his mother and father celebrate their 30th wedding anniversary?   Why won't he be here for Sunday supper?  Why won't he ever play with his new cousins?  Why won't he play video games with his old man?  Why won't he ask me for advice?  Why won't he see the latest Star Trek movie with me?  Why won't he find his soul-mate?  Why won't he have children of his own?  Why couldn't I help him ease his psychic pain?  Why did I fail him?

Don't you dare try to answer these questions in the comment section.  It is boorish to offer answers to rhetorical questions posed by pissed-off grieving fathers.  Remember Job's friends?

I don't know the answers.  If I did learn the answer it would be as lame as the one God provided Job from the whirlwind.  To summarize in three sentences and eight words God's answer to Job (chapters 38 to 41):

I am God.  You are not.  Fuck you.

If I were in seminary I would submit that as a term paper on the exegesis of Job.  My title would be longer than the paper itself, The Meaning of the Divine Speech from the Whirlwind in Job 38-41 in the Context of Post-Modern Grief and Existential Search for the Sacred.

Now you might think it isn't a nice thing for a minister to drop the F bomb in a blog post.  No it isn't.  But I am a father.  Losing a son to suicide is not a nice thing.

A friend of mine who lost a son in the Iraq War sent me this book, Grieving Dads:  To the Brink and Back.  I like it because the authors speak clearly and occasionally use foul language:

Is it normal...

...to lose the fear of dying?
...to feel guilt regarding the death of my child?
...to be pissed at people I don't even know, just because they're laughing at a joke or going on about their life?
...or cry when I hear a song or read a Hallmark card that has nothing to do with my child's passing?...
...to utter the words, "fuck you" at the most inappropriate times imaginable?  p. 119

I am not sure if I am normal but I have felt (and done) all that.  Grieving Dads is a book for fathers written by fathers who have lost children.

     For all of the bad things a man might encounter in his lifetime, there can be nothing that comes even close to the loss of his child.
     According to Nick, "Losing a child is the worst loss a human feels."  This he says from a knowing perspective.  The kind that comes from losing a daughter to a heroin overdose.
     There were many other "knowing perspectives" gathered while talking with the grieving dads I've met.  Like the one from Kent, who watched his son, Chris take his last breath at the scene of a motor vehicle accident. 

     Or Ed's "knowing perspective."  His came as a by-product of finding his 17-year-old son, Joey, hanging from a ceiling fan.  
     Ed helped cut Joey down.
     And afterwards, like many fathers who have had to endure the shock, trauma, and agony of losing a child, Ed often wished that something would happen to him, not only because he wanted the pain to stop, but he wanted to see Joey again--if only for the chance to ask him, "Why?"

     I told you their stories were terrible, didn't I?
     Well, I wasn't kidding. Their stories are indeed terrible, and quite purposefully raw.  There are no candy-coated messages to be found here.  No empty talk about another angel in heaven or the death of a child being part of God's plan.
     So, if you are holding this book in your hands with the expectation that you're going to read the same sort of "self help" drivel you can find everywhere else, you're in for a disappointment.
     If this book ever gets made into a movie, I promise you it won't be a chick flick.  It wasn't written from a woman's perspective.  It wasn't written by a Ph. D. in psychology.  It wasn't written by an Oprah Winfrey book-of-the-month club author, either.
     Instead, it was written by men who are part of a brotherhood shaped out of unimaginable loss, unbearable grief, unrelenting despair--and all the things that come along for the ride.  p. 2

Back to the tenet at hand.  I have the right to search for meaning, so says tenet eight.  That's normal.

Just because I have the right to search doesn't mean I will find it.  All I know now is that Zach is gone and that reality is sinking in day by day.  There are days that I feel damn angry about it.  I am not always angry.  Sometimes just sad.  I am also exasperated, exhausted, exercised, dimwitted, dumbfounded, delirious, confounded, confused, crotchety, bewildered, bewitched, befuddled, addled, anxious, annoyed, and oh here it is again, angry.

A few weeks ago I asked my counselor if I was normal.

He said, "Of course not."

That made me feel better.


  

Mourner's Bill of Rights--Tenet Seven

Here is tenet seven of the Mourner's Bill of Rights with commentary from Chelsea:

"You have the right to embrace your spirituality."

~ Alan Wolfelt's seventh tenet of the Right of Mourners

If you are a spiritual person, it is more important than ever to embrace your faith.

If you feel disconnected spiritually, this may be a good time for examination. Many times people find a different type of connection after loss. Other people say their connection grew even stronger.

You may find answers through the spiritual realm when you ask "Why me?" "Why did this happen?" or "Why am I here?"

If you feel angry with God or higher power, know that this is acceptable and experienced by many. It is important to process this anger. You can do this by talking to someone, perhaps a spiritual counselor or minister. You can even look to others that have gone through loss and see how they found strength in their spiritual connection.

There are many books and resources available that can help you understand grief better. You may even find through this experience that what you thought you believed actually isn't how you feel at all. Loss changes your outlook.

Through organized religion we are sometimes told what to believe and how to behave. Grief may even force you to explore your feelings about your own spirituality, which can help to discover a very loving and magical connection.

The important thing to remember is that you have every right to practice your faith and question your faith.
Chelsea

This one is a biggie for me.  Ministers often are seen as the "designated believers" for the congregation.  We believe in the impossible stuff so you don't have to.   I reject this role.  I always have.  My role is not to encourage people to believe in things that are hard to believe simply because to do so is expected.    If you have a hard time believing in heaven or that a divine being answers prayer and think that the role of a minister is to help you believe in those things, I will be a huge disappointment.    The ministers who can find creative ways to rationalize the improbable and pray away the impossible are a dime a dozen and you can find them anywhere.

However, if you are comfortable with questions, including questions that have no answers, I will be an enjoyable traveling companion.  Progressive Christianity is not for everyone, especially for those who desire the comfort of assurance.   I don't object to assurance.  I have no desire to make people less assured.  But my preaching and teaching commitments are not there.   I encourage people to question rather than settle for answers.    I tend to resonate with people who value freedom over assurance.

What does all this have to do with tenet seven? 

I am now in a position in my personal life in which beliefs in life after death and a personal God would be relevant.  However, I am of a particular spiritual type that does not believe or desire either of these speculations.  That has always been my spiritual type at least since my first semester at seminary.  Once I realized that you didn't have to believe in those things to be a Christian or a minister, I ceased trying.

That doesn't mean I don't make use of the symbols and liturgy of Christianity that were created in a pre-modern era.   I am happy to pray with people.  I don't do it because I think my prayer is going to change anything.  I do it because I think it is a way to express solidarity and love.   The liturgy of resurrection etc. is the unique Christian way of saying that a life matters and that the individual has entered the Great Peace and all is well (at least with that person, the mourners have work to do).

Yet I did have this nagging sense that perhaps I hadn't suffered enough, lost enough, or faced my own mortality enough to express this openly.   After losing my son, I think I qualify.  Who wouldn't want the assurance of heaven and a personal God more than someone in my position?   Still I have no interest.  Why?  Why is it important to some and not others?  It isn't because of suffering or life situation.  People are just different.

That is the point of tenet seven.  We are different.  We grieve as we believe.  Some of us are into a personal God and/or life after death, and some of us aren't interested.   If we are grieving, we have a right to embrace our own belief.  That includes the minister. 

Some might argue that while I have the right to my personal beliefs, I forfeit them, or at least I have to silence them if they conflict with the beliefs of the church.   After all, a minister is called to do a job, to preach the gospel.   There are standards, right?  You don't want a biology teacher throwing out the textbook and teaching creationism because she personally believes it.   I don't disagree with that.   My questions are these:  What does the church believe?  Who gets to say what the church believes?   Which church?   Do beliefs ever change?  Are some beliefs more important than others?  What is the gospel?  I have many more questions than that, but that is a good start. 

I don't happen to think that either the existence of a personal God or life after death is central to Christianity.  I think the point of Christianity is about living this life and that those other more speculative matters are addenda. I think we are in the midst of great change and that the best way to be a minister amidst them is to be honest about these changes and to explore them with the congregation.   My task is to be honest with my own journey, to communicate it as faithfully as possible, and to encourage others to find their own path.   The thing we have in common is not the particular path but a shared hospitality to all travelers.    

As far as beliefs go, I believe in love and in the sacredness of life.   Because my home tradition is Christianity, the doorway to a life of meaning is through the teachings and example of Jesus.  That is "good news" or the gospel.  Even though I don't believe in a personal God (that is in a being outside of nature that interferes with it) I do trust in God.   I tend to resonate with Paul Tillich and think of God as Being itself.  It is a name for whatever is.  God is the universe and if there is more than the universe, God is that, too.  God is also a specific way of being in the universe.   Justice, compassion, and love, are characteristics of this way.   

I don't believe in a personal God but I do personify God.  Because human beings evolved to give agency to anything that moves, rather than fight it, I have fun with it.  In my last sermon I personified God as Mama Goddess.  Do I believe there is an actual being, Mama Goddess, somewhere under Earth or in the sky?  Of course not.   It is a language trick that enables us to tell stories and to speak about that which is important.  It also motivates us to reflection and action in a particular way.  In this case, "Mama Goddess" helps us challenge outdated and harmful ideas such as patriarchy and create new and better ones like equality for Earthlings and care for Earth.

Grief is a sacred time, a "thin place" as this writer shows.  A thin place is not just a physical location but it can be a state when the "veil between the mundane and the Sacred is suddenly especially thin."  Here we brush up to the sacred.  Insight may be clearer.  In some ways important matters become more in focus.  Old categories and beliefs can become profane.   During grief little is more annoying than someone who wants to comfort you with their beliefs.   That person is playing in the shallow end of the pool.   You are in the deep end.  Grief is the via negativa, the spiritual path of letting go.   You are letting go of the less interesting, the less true, the binds, the shackles, and you have no idea where you are going.

Grief is not simply a bad thing to hurry through or endure.  This is a sacred quest.  You are finding a deeper sense of you.  Your true friends won't hurry you or worry over you.  They won't try to teach you, heal you, correct you, or guide you.  They will walk alongside you. 

Grief can be a creative time and a draining time.  It is work.  Spirituality is an important part of it.  As Chelsea says:

The important thing to remember is that you have every right to practice your faith and question your faith.

Amen.

Mourner's Bill of Rights: Tenet Six

I am continuing the series on the Mourner's Bill of Rights.   Here is the latest from Chelsea: 

"You have the right to make use of ritual."

~ Alan Wolfelt's sixth tenet of the Right of Mourners

The funeral or memorial service is an important part of the healing process. It provides a way for people to support you and allows you to honor the life of your loved one. Do not let anyone tell you differently.

• How you decide to honor and celebrate your loved one is your decision and yours only.
  Unfortunately, others may not respect your wishes and will share their opinion about which rituals are right and which ones aren't. Just let this go. Your energy needs to be focused on celebrating the life of your loved one in a way that feels right to you.
• You also have the right to continue rituals... the funeral does not have to be the last time you honor your loved one.
  You may want to consider starting your own rituals or traditions to honor your loved one and keep a connection with them. A ritual can be anything that you desire. You can hold a prayer service, write messages on balloons and release them to heaven, or do a charity event in your loved one's name. There are so many things you can do to keep the memory of your loved one alive and close to your heart.

Choose what feels right to you.
Chelsea 

We had the funerals.  Other rituals are ongoing.

I have decided that I am going to disregard scripture.  In fact I am going to disobey it outright.   This verse in particular: 

Leviticus 19.28:

You shall not make any gashes in your flesh for the dead or tattoo any marks upon you: I am the Lord. 

I am planning on getting a tattoo to honor Zach.

Right over my heart.

Heart plus infinity.

Lovely and Daughter already have disobeyed the Lord, so I might as well join them.  


Chelsea said to do what feels right.  So take it up with her.

The Mourners' Bill of Rights: Tenet Five

Here is the latest from Chelsea:

"You have the right to experience "grief bursts"."

~ Alan Wolfelt's fifth tenet of the Right of Mourners

The emotional outbursts can be our greatest enemy but our biggest savior. Sometimes we avoid calling friends, talking about our loved one, or participating in a holiday or event because we fear that it will be too hard. We fear that we won't be able to face pain and the emotions will take over.

Sometimes the things that seem the hardest are not as bad as the anticipation. Once the first holiday or birthday comes along, the day may seem better than expected due to the anticipation. The first steps are always the hardest, but the ones after may get easier.

It is the outbursts that come out of nowhere that can knock us down and catch us by surprise. You could be laughing and enjoying time with friends and family and then all of a sudden you began to cry. It just happens like that. Something reminds you of your loved one and the tears come.

Don't be apologetic for your feelings or tears.

They are a natural part of the process and you have the right to experience them in public or private.

Chelsea

Oddly enough, the outbursts like to come when I am leading worship.  You can't get more public than that.   Yesterday, I had to hold it back during the hymns that had nothing to do with Zach, but that doesn't seem to matter as I get emotional over a lot of things these days.   This Is My Song (in the UUA hymnal) is one of my favorite hymns.  I can barely get through that one.

It was "good church."  We celebrated Pluralism Sunday and I was the anchor for the May Pole.  Emotional outbursts include random smiles and laughter, too.

 

Mourners' Bill of Rights: Tenet Four

For those keeping score, according to Chelsea it is now Day 261 of 365 of my grief.  Chelsea is on a different calendar.  I didn't invite Chelsea into my life until about a month or so after Zach's death, 49 days to be precise.   According to the day calculator it has been 310 days since Zach's departure. Here it is in bold:
  

310 days

Since Thursday June 28 2012

a Thursday 10 months and 5 days from today

How many days are left in my contract?   How many more grieving days do I get before I am supposed to have my s**t together?  Chelsea is cutting me off at 365 (by her count).   I could start her over again, I suppose, but that feels a little self-indulgent.   Today she continues her commentary on The Mourners' Bill of Rights: 

"You have the right to be tolerant of your physical and emotional limits."

~Alan Wolfelt's fourth tenet of the Right of Mourners

Your world has been turned upside down since the loss of your loved one. 

Please don't expect yourself to be able to do the same amount of activity or work you had done in the past. 

Your body needs to rest while it is healing. Listen to your mind and body and no one else. 

This emotional rollercoaster may have left you tired, achy, and energy-stricken. The few days or weeks after the death of your loved one, you may have felt like you were on autopilot to move through all the tasks to be completed. Once we come to understand the stark reality of death, we hit our limits and it is very important to implement self-care. 

Remember, you come first!

Chelsea

Did you notice that sentence,

"...The few days or weeks after the death, you may have felt like you were on autopilot..."?

We are into months now.   In 55 days, we will start counting in years.   I am not on autopilot, but I am not flying this thing.   I am conscious of my limits.    But because I also have a tendency towards laziness, narcissism, and self-indulgence, telling me, "Remember, you come first!" is not always sage advice.  

My father, who will be 95 this year, knows one Bible passage by heart.  He used to quote it to me:

A little sleep, a little slumber, 
a little folding of the hands to rest,
and poverty will come upon you like a robber,
and want like an armed man.

When is whatever this is something else than it is?  I don't know.

Why did Forrest Gump start running?

Answer:  Grief?

Why did Forrest Gump stop running?

Answer:  He was done.

Mourner's Bill of Rights--Tenet Three

Here is the third tenet of the Mourner's Bill of Rights with commentary from Chelsea.

"You have the right to feel a multitude of emotions." 

~ Alan Wolfelt's third tenet of the Right of Mourners 

Oh, the rollercoaster of emotions! It is quite a ride. Have you ever felt so many emotions at such intensity? Isn't it crazy how they just creep up on you at the most random, inopportune times too? Losing someone can break you wide open letting all the myriad of emotions escape. It is amazing how you can go from happy to complete sadness in an instant. One little thing can just send you in an emotional outburst. There can be nothing more frustrating than not being in control of your emotions. The important thing to remember is that behind the tears, rage, and sadness is pure love.

Chelsea

No kidding, Chelsea.  Sometimes I think I should wear a sign that says, "Watch out, I bite."

I do have the right to feel these emotions.  I don't have the right to dump them on others.   I try to take care regarding that.  Anger is an especially tricky one.  Sadness is an emotion that is acceptable, but anger is more of a challenge.  You know why I am sad.  Why anger?  There is no object for the anger.   To put it another way, there are a thousand objects but none of them is the real object.

What helps is to know that whatever emotions I feel, that doesn't mean there is something wrong with me or that I should add layers of guilt on top of it.    I do get caught off guard by my reactions to things now and again.   Talking about it helps.  Writing too.  Thanks for reading!

Mourner's Bill of Rights--Tenet Two

Here is Tenet Two of the Mourner's Bill of Rights with commentary from Chelsea.

"You have the right to talk about your grief." 

~ Alan Wolfelt's second tenet of the Right of Mourners 

Sometimes it may feel hard to talk about your loved one, but the more you do the easier it will get. Talking can help you express your emotions and begin the healing process.

After the funeral, the rest of the world returns to daily life, but for those of us who lost someone, life, as we know it will never be the same.  You will find that people will stop asking about your loved one. Try not to take this personally because many simply do not know what to say or do to help.

For those who haven't experienced loss, they may think they are being respectful by not talking about your loss. 

Because others can clearly see how painful your loss is, they don't want to upset you, so they remain quiet. However, for most of us grieving, talking about our loved one is exactly what we need and want.

Chelsea

P.S. According to Dr. Wolfelt, "Talking about your grief will help you heal. Seek out others who will allow you to talk as much as you want, as often as you want, about your grief. If at times you don't feel like talking, you also have the right to be silent."

As I have a pulpit, a radio show, and a blog, I have the opportunity to talk about Zach publicly.  However, with the exception of this blog (and here only in limited doses) I don't write about him.  I have written about my grief and spoken about it from the pulpit, again from my perspective in limited doses.   I do so there, in part, as a function of ministry.   Some of it is for me, some for the congregation.

Where I really talk about Zach as Zach is with family and on occasion I will find an opportunity to talk about him with someone.  There is no rule about that.   It often depends upon my mood and what I perceive to be the openness of the person to whom I am talking.    I am not a person who likes unsolicited help or advice so I can generally gauge who will offer that and talk about other things.   That is OK.  I don't judge any of this.   I know what I need when I need it.  Not everyone has to be everything or anything for that matter.   

Now and then I find someone who will listen.  I do like that.  I like our support group.  I find it helpful.  People who are going through similar things get it.   The loss of a child to suicide is unique.  I don't say that to put it my pain on some kind of scale.  But this loss is of a certain type.  

It isn't easy to talk about him sometimes.   I have heard (and I believe it) that memories will not be as painful at some point.  Or perhaps there will be joy in addition to the sorrow.   These memories are painful now because I miss him so.  I go through the what ifs. Pain is not a bad thing.   I think talking about him through the pain is probably a good thing.

This was a great time.  Summer 2011 in Outer Banks, North Carolina.  It is painful to see this happy picture.  I can't help but think that less than a year after this photo, Zach would be gone.   I don't know if I will ever look at this picture without the pang.  Pang and what ifs.  Maybe.  Whatever the case, I still will look at it.  That was a beautiful evening and a joyful time.   As I recall, Zach and Katy tortured Michelle.   As it should be.

I loved his laugh and his smile.  Whenever I see something silly I want to show him because he loved weird things. I enjoyed making him laugh and showing off for him.  I don't know if we did a lot of constructive things together, but we did make each other laugh.  That I treasure.

Mourner's Bill of Rights, Tenet One

Yesterday, Chelsea pointed me to the Mourner's Bill of Rights.  Today, she comments on the first one.  This was the text of today's email:

"You have the right to experience your own unique grief." ~ 

Alan Wolfelt's first tenet of the Right of Mourners 

Grief is a natural and necessary experience, and each of us grieves differently.

You will not "get over it," as others mistakenly encourage you to do. 

That does not mean you will be stuck in sadness or anger forever; instead, the pain will lessen over time and the memories will bring smiles instead of tears.

Respect your grief as well as the grief of those who are suffering besides you. 

There is no right or wrong way to deal with the loss of a loved one. You may have family members that choose not to talk about your loved one - that is okay. Understand this is not because they do not love or miss your loved one. Instead, they may miss the person so much that just thinking about the loss can hurt. You and your family get to choose to walk the path of grief on your own terms and timetable.

It's your life.

Chelsea

One of my friends, Vicki, said it well that her son was not an "it."   She will never "get over" him as if she would want to do so. 

No one has told me to get over it but there is pressure to be my "old self."  This pressure can come even in the form of compliments, particularly with my profession.   I feel my sermons being evaluated week to week as to whether I am back to normal.  I want to say, 

"Please let up.  I am not my old self.  I never will be my old self.  Whatever I become will be different.  I don't know how to do this 'correctly' or how to do it without making you uncomfortable, and if I start worrying over that, I will go crazy.  So just let me do what I do and don't read into it.  Rather than evaluate, treat my grief as an object lesson, if you like."

Everyone responds to a grieving person uniquely as well.  I am sure people will do what they need to do.  I am learning to go with the flow and trying to take nothing personally.  One thing I am learning is that it is not about me.  People react in so many different ways that it cannot possibly be about me.   When the son of a minister suicides how many possible touch points are there?  How many deep-seated psychological and theological issues are provoked?   How and where does that hit home?

Let's just name a few.  Again, no one has said this to me.  This is my stuff.

1. Bad minister.  If he wasn't such a heretic, God wouldn't have punished him.
2. Bad parent.  If he wasn't a bad parent, this wouldn't have happened.
3. If God doesn't protect him, then who is safe?
4. How can he possibly preach, teach, or pastor?
5. I am not comfortable with him preaching/teaching/pastoring my kid (or me).
6. Why doesn't he embrace the traditional faith now?
7. Why doesn't his faith make him "better" and help him "get over it?"
8. Don't suicides all go to hell?
9. Just seeing/hearing him makes me think about things I don't want to think about.

I would imagine that my presence brings up those questions and more inside people even as they would never dare voice them even to themselves.   As I wrote those down I started to think that for many I must be a walking taboo.

But you know what?  I am not.   I am a human being whose beautiful son died of something of which I do not understand.  It was not his fault, or mine, or anyone else's.  It had nothing to do with parenting or with my ministry.   It had nothing to do with the whims of supernatural deities.   I am a good parent.  I am a good minister.  I am a good human being.   No one is exempt from the contingencies of life.  People grieve differently and public figures such as ministers are as different and human as anyone.  In my unique way, and on my timetable, I will survive and thrive, and my family members will in their time and in their way.

Do I reject much of the Christian tradition?  Yes.  Much of it has been superstitious, ignorant, and harmful.   Often I have felt that but I especially feel that now.  You know what the Christian tradition has said (for the most part) about suicides?  Hell.  Don't pass go.  Don't collect $200.  Go directly to the fire with Beelzebub.  Is it really a surprise that I reject notions of afterlife?   

You want to talk about God's will and how everything is part of God's plan?  If so, then I think God should be fired.  It is great to have a God who answers your prayers and sends you to heaven.   You can count the miracles one by one.  So what happens when the tragedy strikes?  What about the suffering of people all over this planet?  Is God taking a nap?  Not in his job description?  Just doesn't like those people?  Or do we say, "God acts in mysterious ways?"    

Call me faithless, but I think it is far more humane to let the idea of a controlling (yet impotent) God and his heaven and hell go rather than try to explain him away when it is inconvenient.   Now that doesn't mean I reject the Sacred or think that I know it all or have no sense for beauty and mystery.   I find the Sacred in the depth of life.   I call that God.

At this point, my depth is a depth of loss.  That loss is too holy to paper over with piety.  I will follow this loss wherever it leads.   It is my loss.  It is my life.  Through it all, the sadness, the anger, the uncertainty, I am walking a sacred path, as do all who grieve.   My ministry through it is to say what I have seen.

Do I embrace much of the Christian tradition?  Yes.  Much of it is profound, true, and life-giving.  Often I have felt that as well, and I especially feel it when I talk with and read the people I can trust to be honest.  I especially trust those Christian thinkers who have blazed trails where others hadn't dared.   My heroes and heroines asked impious questions and like Jacob wrestled with them and wouldn't let them go.   They wouldn't settle for images of God that had become idols.   They risked being wrong and rejected.  They showed that the Christian faith is never static.  The great ones, the honest ones, the skeptics, doubters, and searchers, have always been my mentors.  In this walk of sacred grief, they are my guides more than ever.

All of us who grieve have a right to experience it each in our own unique way.  More even than a right, I think we have a holy obligation to be true to ourselves.  Only then can we be a trustworthy companion for fellow travelers.