Of all the conversations that have taken place during the 10 weeks, so far, of grief counseling 2 really do stick out. First, it was a conversation of a newfound empathy for anyone who loses their spouse. Second, the vow we make, you know the one, “until death do us apart”. I’ll explain…
I had a friend of mine from high school lose her spouse about 7 years ago. She would in-turn comfort me when my husband passed in the most caring, in-depth, and real way. I’m sure of it now, it was because she could; she knew exactly what I was feeling. However, 7 years ago, I was no where to be found in her world. I heard about the passing of her husband but to be perfectly honest, even though I was sad for her, I could not understand the depth of the loss she was feeling. Fast forward, I’ve recently had another friend of mine lose her spouse, this time, it leveled me. I hurt for her in a deep and real way, and wanted nothing more than to stop the world to go and just sit with her. When my brother-in-law passed, my husband’s brother, I wanted to run to my sister’s side and simply put my head on her shoulder because of how badly I knew she’d be hurting. It’s just different now. The word, “empathy” is so very limited on the actual intensity one feels when faced with the news that someone has just lost their person. It’s like immediately understanding the gaping hole that makes in a human’s world. The future that evaporates, the intense identity shift no one wants to undergo, the finality of it all; it’s intense.
When it was discussed in the group about this newfound understanding we’ve all gained, it impacted all of us because regardless of circumstances, we’d each already had an experience that confirmed exactly what we were being told. It was one of those very strange unexplainable occurrences. We each gained the most painful of insights into this type of grief, and it will forever break us each time we hear about someone losing their person. I can only imagine that a parent who has lost a child feels the depth of anguish of another parent who loses their child. There is just such an abyss of emotion that accompanies death that unless we’ve experienced the pain, our “empathy” may miss the mark, it’s not wrong, just limited (thankfully). Sure, we hurt for those we care about, but to feel what they feel may not be possible. However, after living the awful experience, we can’t but hurt for another human being living through the intense pain. It’s more than sympathizing, it’s understanding.
The other conversation that struck me, to my core, was about our precious wedding vows. “Till death do us apart” or whatever variation thereof, it’s the promise that only death will end our marriages. We knew then what we signed up for; didn’t we? One of us has to go first. I was blessed the other day to be a guest at one of my daughter’s friend’s weddings. The young couple in their early 20’s making a covenant with God and each other to live as husband and wife, “until death”… and it hit me. Hard. We all enter our covenant of marriage with the acknowledgment of death. One of the two, will go first, and the other will be left to mourn the loss of the rest of the vows made on that beautiful wedding day. It’s a little messed up… I mean, I don’t know about you, but I want to flip some freaking tables. I mean, I 100% embraced the richer/poorer, sickness/health, better/worse part… but this?!?!? This is crap. But there you are… on that gorgeous wedding day, planning a future with your beloved, building your family and… acknowledging that one of you will have to die first. First. I never fully understood the weight of that vow until he went first and left me here. Here, to think about all of the other promises, vows, hopes, dreams that we built that I’m left to figure out… because death parted us. In our 20’s do we even understand that? I married my husband when I was 40 years-old, and I didn’t understand that. The torturous magnitude of that promise.
Grief group really has been a blessing, just a different perspective from people who survived losing their spouse. Reading material that helps one not feel so very insane (even though don’t get me wrong, my insanity level was a bit elevated if you will)… it’s just a group of people that are all there for the same reason: death parted us, divided us, and now we need to figure out how to survive this life without the person we chose to spend our lives with.
I want to scream, “it’s not fair”… but then I think of Jesus willingly paying for my sins and transgressions and “fair” flies out of the freaking window. Then… I can’t but be grateful that life is simply not fair. For if it was fair… I deserve the cross.
We weren’t promised easy, people.