One spring morning many years ago (I think I was 9 years old) my
eager and smiling family settled into the family station wagon and joined a
caravan of other folks from our little town who were heading to a distant natural
hot springs area. The intended journey's end being an Olympic sized indoor pool that was
filled with water from the natural hot springs.
Warm and inviting, albeit a bit murky, it was a pleasurable outing for
our winter weary bodies and souls!
My father used to tell me that I had taken to the water like
a fish, which indeed I had as I learned to swim in the lake along with the
rainbow trout when I was just over three.
And so entering the pool area after our long journey and quickly joining
up with my best friend, Kathy, we took each other’s hands and skipped to the
diving board at the deep end of the pool to the sound of “WALK” coming from
the life guard tower.
There was a line at the diving board. We waited, eagerly
watching as swimmer after swimmer clad in bathing suits and those uncomfortable
rubbery swim caps, jumped or dove into the warm
water. I was in line before Kathy and when it was finally my turn I climbed up,
walked to the end, bounced up and down just a bit and then jumped in feet first.
Down, down, down I went. I remember
thinking that wow this was a very deep pool but my feet finally touched the
bottom and I pushed off and while hoping I had taken enough breath to make it
back to the top I headed up. Above me
but still well under the surface I saw Kathy.
Her arms and legs were flailing and she was turning as if confused as to
which direction was up and which direction was down. I simply grabbed her hand as
I was passing by and together we rose to the top. Still holding hands we swam
to the ladder and climbed out of the pool; she went to her mother and I headed
back to the line for another fun jump.
Many years later the conversation went to that spring day
and Kathy said, “Thank you for saving my life!” Frankly I didn’t think it had
been a big deal. I hadn’t stood like Supergirl
at the edge of the pool and heroically jumped in to save a drowning victim; I had
simply just been there and reached out my hand.
So many times since Dale died I have felt like I have been
drowning emotionally and then someone is just “There” and reaches out their hand and saves
me.
My cousin mentioned the other day that her neighbor had
passed away leaving a widow about my age. One would think that after all that
has been said and done over the last three years that I would be an expert in knowing
just what to say. The truth is, the last
thing I could say is that I totally understand what she is going through. Surprising as that is, it has occurred to me
that we all grieve differently. We all experience a different loss. I remember when my father died, I was 28
years old and I had idolized my dad, we had been very close. At the funeral that was attended by hundreds of people, several came up to me individually and said, “I understand exactly what you’re
going through, I lost my dad too!” Even though grateful for their kindness, my first thought was, “But you didn’t lose
MY dad!” No one else can totally understand your loss and no one will grieve
exactly the same as you do.
It is a journey we each must take alone but oh how we need your helping hand!
Some people come to this earth like magnificent lions and
others, just as important, come like peaceful lambs. Some have talents that the world can enjoy in
museums or concert halls while some present to a smaller group, their smaller gifts from the heart which are just as
important. Some come with the power to teach and lead some with simple words
that calm a trouble soul and uplift hearts.
Some have compassion for the few some can organize great works of
humanitarianism, both equally important.
To me, it seems that the differences in each of us is what
not only makes the world go round and what we alone can give but it is also what makes us unique and makes us find
others who fit our uniqueness (whether alike or polar opposite) and fall deeply
in love. A love that is so strong that
it hurts beyond anything else when you are parted. If grief is the price of
love, then I accept it. Realizing it only hurts this much because our
relationship mattered.
So what can you say to a widow? Well in all humility and hoping to help…I can
tell you what you might want to reconsider saying:
Even though you mean it and the widow knows you mean it…in
my experience, these statements don’t really help:
- “It will get better” (That’s not for you to judge. I read once but can’t find it again where someone said “You don’t get over it you get through it…it doesn’t get better it gets different)
- “I understand” (You can’t possibly)
- “Call me if you need anything” (it’s the equivalent of saying kiss kiss “Let’s do lunch”)
- “You are blessed. It surely could have been worse” (so what if it could? He’s still gone!)
- “He’s in a far better place” (better than being here by my side!)
- “He was too good to be on this earth” (perhaps but what does that say about me?)
- “I’m here for you if you ever need me” (Great. But don’t say it unless you can and will actually follow through with that)
- “I’m sorry for your loss” (that simply means - I needed to say something and that is generally accepted and I probably won’t ever talk to you again anyway)
- “Time heals everything” (Nope…time can make you stronger, time can give you things to do but you never heal and become your same old self again no matter how much time passes)
- But after all this I must say that the worst thing you can do is to say nothing at all. I have felt how some people don’t know what to say so I just don’t ever hear from them.
So what Do you say?
Something like…. I am so sorry. I can’t begin to understand
how you feel losing him. But I have come to understand that grief only happens
to those who have loved deeply like you two did. Please know, that I love you
and I care.
And then, when you can, reach out your hand. In a way that only you with your unique talents can. Every heartfelt act along the way is a rescue. It doesn’t have to be heroic.
~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*
There are some heroes that I would like to thank here
though. My sister and brother-in-law
have given more than anyone will ever know to make certain I am ok. My son also makes certain at all costs that I am cared for
and not one day goes by without hearing from him in one way or the other even
though he lives many states away. And my cousin with her daily emails giving me
support and encouragement. They all treat me like I am a different me but still
me! I adore all of you and will spend
eternity trying to think of a way to repay your heroic acts of pure love. I so need you and your unconditional love.
And of course to quote the words of a hymn, “How Firm a
Foundation” that I sing often…
Fear not, I am with thee; oh, be not dismayed,
For I am thy God and will still give thee aid.
I'll strengthen thee, help thee, and cause
thee to stand,
Upheld by my righteous, upheld by my
righteous,
Upheld by my righteous, omnipotent hand.
image found on Pinterest
No comments:
Post a Comment