It was my first visit with this middle-aged woman. She had called a few days before asking me to
come by and visit with her. Her husband had
died a few weeks before. She was
just beginning to feel the loneliness that came with losing her life’s companion
of the last 30 years. We sat in a quiet
Starbuck’s as she shared her story.
She shared her story with a flat voice and near
expressionless face. It was as if she
had turned off her emotions (except for the occasional tear that leaked from
her eyes.) She spoke of lonely meals,
sleeping till noon, and letting the phone ring and ring. She told of not wanting to go outside or
seeing anyone. And then she said the
most remarkable thing. “Its’ like I have
suddenly become color blind. My life is
like an old black and white movie. There
are no colors.”
I have encountered this before in the people I have accompanied
through their grief. I, too, experienced
this when my mother died. Such monochrome
living speaks to the inner losses we experience throughout our time in that
shadowed valley. All color disappears as
the light grows dim.
As the daylight fades so do the colors in our world. As grief sets in, or world begins to grow
more and more pale. Within a few weeks,
when everyone else has returned to their lives, we are left alone and in the
darkness of sadness and a myriad of other emotions. We find ourselves in a deep twilight of
monochrome living. There are only shades
of gray between the moments of utter darkness.
When we are plunged into the darkness of grief, we are often
disoriented and lost. We may stumble
around, tripping over the furniture of our lives. It becomes even worse when others start
rearranging our lives for us. We become
fearful or angry or weary. Many, like
this woman, simply want to sit in the darkness and grieve.
Conversely, at the dawning of a new day, the color begins to
return. As the Eastern sky begins to
show the first signs of sunlight the dark shadows begin to yield to ever growing
gray shoals of light. As that light rises,
faint pastels seem to tinge the edges of those gray forms. Eventually, the full glory of the new day begins
to appear as the as the dawning light reaches higher on the horizon.
It is important to remember that the sun will rise on grief. In time, the color will return. It will likely be different, but the light
will return.
At first the shapes of friends and family as well as the
familiar surroundings of home will begin to appear. Then lighter
shades of pastel will bring the first hints of color and vitality to our
world. Gradually the deeper shades of
color will appear, giving not just shape and form but genuine color to our
world.
As one who cares for this person, we do not need to open the
window shades and flood their lives with light.
The darkness can be a place for healing. They may need to sit in darkness, but they
do not have to sit in that darkness alone.
Our presence may allay their fears and remind them that they are not
completely alone. Your very presence may
be a sign of hope in a very dark and scary world.
Be present to them without giving advice or encouraging them
to “get over it.” Allow them the time
they need for the shadows to lift and the color to return. Living in a monochrome world of grief
requires patience, reassurance, and a gentle voice of encouragement and
concern. Be that voice and help them to live as best they can until they see
the first light at the dawn of a new day.
Blessings,
Bob
