The Darkened Window

“I miss the light, the color, the brightness that used to shine in my life.  It’s like the world has gone dark.  Everything is in shadow.”

These words were spoken by a middle-aged woman whose husband had died a few weeks before the visit.    In the time since the funeral she has done remarkably well.  She has leaned on her grown children for support.  She found her way through the initial rituals of grief.  Her friends and extended family have been welcomed into her journey.  From all outward indications, she was coping well and making her way through a very difficult grief.

We met for coffee.  It was a simple follow-up.  At least, that is what I believed before the visit.  It did not take long before her voice began to break, and her eyes became soft and teary.  After a long pause she shared her heart-felt words.  “It’s like the world has gone dark.”  For the rest of the hour she spoke of her yearning for a life freed from grief.  In the end she knew she would have to wait for the light to return. 

I wanted to reach out and turn on the light with some pithy little snippet of wisdom.  It was very uncomfortable sitting in the dark with her.  But, my only choice to wait with her.  The light switch was far beyond my reach.  The darkness was not caused by a lack of light outside of her life.  It was a darkness that grew out of her inner life.  It grew out of a love that was lost in the darkness of loneliness, hopelessness, and pain.  The best I could do was offer her a physical and emotional presence that would reassure her that she was not alone.  I could give her a little energy that she could use to hold on until the light began to dawn somewhere in her mind and soul.  But it was her darkness and she would have to find her way through it.

Knowing the future is always a challenge.   At best we can only guess.  Sometimes we feel good about our guesses.  But most of the time we do not have a great deal of confidence in our “futuring.”  As financial planners like to remind their clients, “Past performance is no guarantee of future results.”  But we have learned to live with varying degrees of uncertainty by “hedging our bets” and “spreading out our risk.”  We keep our eye on what the present is telling us about the future and act accordingly.  In the end, it is all a guess and the best we can expect is to be right some of the time. 

What happens when we are not even able to see far enough to be able to make a guess?  Grief takes away what little future we can see or imagine.  As the widow said a little later in the conversation, “I couldn’t imagine living without him!”

In grief, the window on the future goes dark.  There is no future, only a painful present and a remembered past.  Have you ever looked out of a window on a darkened street with no moon or streetlights?  What did you see?  It is likely that all you saw was a reflection of yourself and the room behind you. A window on a darkened world is no longer a window on the future.  It has become a mirror that reflects the painful present and the painfully remembered past.  Everything else is hidden in the shadows of darkness.

The window is reflecting the inward-turning self.   The world is still out there somewhere but our attention has become enslaved to the “in here.”  That inwardness brings loneliness, hopelessness, and a more intense experience of our pain.  Our inner life becomes our whole world. 

Be patient with your grief and wait for a light.  There will come a time when a flicker of light will appear in your future.  It may come with a grandchild’s hug or a bit of good news that challenges your expectations.  It may be a note card from a friend or a moment when you can see yourself living beyond our grief.  When this light begins to shine beyond our lives, it will draw our attention away from our loss and help us see ahead once again.  The darkened window will open us to the other side of our grief.  The light may flicker on and off for a while.  But, be patient.  It will grow brighter, in time.

Those of us on the outside of their grief may believe that we can see their future a bit more clearly. 

We may try and clean the window with ill-advised words and actions, but the window is not dirty.  Telling them that “They should not be sad because…” or offering to take over doing everything their loved one did for them may make us feel better, but it will not help them deal with the inner darkness. 

We can try and describe what we see in the distant future, but this is far beyond the grieving person’s ability to see.   Phrases like “You will find someone else” or “You can have other children” are cruel and disrespectful of the grief they are experiencing for their loved one.

Often, we stand behind them and try to shine the light of our faith on their window.  But the glare of our faith may make it more difficult for them to see their own faith in their reflection. 

Instead of trying to “brighten” their lives, our job is to stand beside them so that they can see that they are not alone.  The light will return but only they will be able to see it.  It is their window, their grief.  We can be there to hear them when they feel like talking their way through it.  We can listen without judgment and let them know that their tears will not chase us away.  Rejoice with them when they see a little light.  Otherwise, be respectful of their grief and allow them to walk into the future in their own time.  

The light will shine.  It will overcome the darkness of grief, but only in the mystery of time itself.

Blessings,

Bob