For those who read this blog regularly, you know that I generally focus on those moments of grief that grow out of losing someone very close. When we lose a spouse, child, or parent the grief can be debilitating. However, even when we lose someone who is in a more distant circle of relationship, such as not-so-close friends or acquaintances, the grief will likely be less intense but just as real. Most of the grief we will experience in a life time will grow out of these types of relationships. Todays blog grows out of one such experience.
Last week I received word, via Facebook, that someone I have known for over 30 years died suddenly. We had not seen each other for decades. However, we had rekindled our friendship via social media within the last few years. But in the early 1980’s we served congregations in neighboring towns and had frequent meetings and opportunities for lunch, etc. We were never best friends, but we were close colleagues who shared six years of ministry.
My present grief over losing my friend does not compare to the grief that I have experienced over losing family members. But I am grieving. I feel sadness. My friend comes to mind frequently, especially when I log on to social media. I can hear his rather distinctive voice offering some bit of dry wit. This grief is not heartbreaking, but it deserves to be respected and addressed appropriately.
His loss does create sadness in my soul. I will miss his wit and insightful comments on FB posts. He always sought to encourage when he caught a whiff of despair in a post or comment. He was one of my unbeknownst encouragers. I never really told him any of this. But I believe we had a mutual respect for and appreciation of one another. We certainly understood much of what each other had been through. Losing his presence in my world causes me sadness.
As in any grief experience, I need to allow the sadness to flow. It is easy to deflect our sadness with someone we knew beyond an arms-length. We may tell ourselves that we really did not know them THAT well or we were not THAT close. While this may accurately reflect the relationship we shared, it does not change the reality of the sadness that the loss creates. I need to acknowledge that sadness as a way of honoring both my friend’s life and friendship we shared.
In the midst of this sadness, memories begin to bubble up from the depths of my mind. Bits and pieces of “rememberings” enter my internal conversation. Phrases he used and moments we shared come to mind. My friend and I sat on many church boards and committees together. We both maintained a healthy skepticism of plans made by committees. We would often sit next to each other and carry on private conversations that would, at times, become part of the group experience. It was suggested more than once that we should not be allowed to sit together in meetings. We found support and understanding in one another. In remembering, I discover that my friend is still with me and offering his unique perspective on the world.
As we remember the bits and pieces of the love we share with our friends, sit with and savor those moments. While the exact words may be lost in the fog of time, the feelings that grew out of those moments will likely linger with you. Each one is a connection to a friend that is no longer part of your external world. But he or she can still be part of your inner world. Let the memories strengthen the inner bond that still exists.
I am a bit surprised that my grief over losing my friend has effected my energy level and ability to concentrate. In moments of more profound grief, I found myself incapacitated with a diminished ability to make a decision or remember important details. While my experience of the last week does not approach that level, I have found myself drifting away from what I am doing when a memory comes alive. At first I would think about my friend and it would distract me from my day to day activities. Remembering encroached on my sleep and left me a bit groggy the next day. Even when our loss is not devastating, it may have consequences in our day-to-day living. I need to recognize that I may not be at my best. But that’s ok. It’s called grief.
As with any other grief experience, when you find yourself feeling the effects, there are several things you can do.
Listen carefully and be gentle with yourself. Unwelcome feelings may sweep through a moment triggered by some reminder of your friend. Listen carefully and acknowledge your friendship. Give yourself a break and allow yourself to linger with your sadness until it kindles gratitude for your friend and the moments you shared. Grief is a sign that you have lost someone who lingers in your life. Allow yourself to develop gratitude for that relationship and the changed relationship you still share with them in your grieving.
Pause and remember your friend’s family and friends. Pray that they may find their way through a more intense experience of grief than you are having. Write a brief note of condolence, sharing some special memory of your friend. Acknowledge your gratitude and the loss you feel. Let them know that they are not alone in their grief.
But mostly, let your grief continue to teach, transform, and awaken you to the gift of life that surrounds you. It is in these less intense experiences of grief that we come to know and appreciate the power of grief to help us grow into someone who knows love and trust, joy and hope. As we become aware of how we respond to grief we can become better equipped at dealing with progressively more intense grief experiences.
May each of us honor the lives that have embraced and informed our lives by allowing them to teach, encourage, and inspire. My friend taught me more than he ever knew, and I am deeply grateful for his life and legacy.
Thank you, Skip!
Requiescat in pace.
Bob
