"The-Pain-No-Words-Can-Describe-Pain"

 

Dear Mama,

Or did your son call you, "Mom, Mother, Ma," or some other term of endearment?  I think we embrace the adage, "Mothers are the closest representation of God's heart."  I write to you, then, as a "Mom," myself, as well as sharing the honor of serving as ordained ministers of the Gospel.  We met for 52 weeks, exegeting (studying) Scriptures; learning to refine "preaching styles"; engaging in energetic discourse about spirituality and religiosity, passing increasingly difficult examinations; and becoming comfortable with ministerial conventions.

Dear Friend, as I presume to comfort you now as "Sistah Girls" in a club to which no one wants to belong, "the pain-no-words-can-describe-pain" rose like smoke from a chimney and wafted its way into my heart.  I need to warn you not to blame yourself! Mothers, especially, have mastered an "It must be my fault" reasoning that rarely if ever dissipates.  You are not the culprit.

We become inordinately connected with assuming responsibility (if not downright guilt) for babies we labored to bring into the world.  I believe, no I know, your beloved son belonged to God our Father, first! Further, I believe God approved of your son's choice of you and his earthly father as faithful parents and released him into your loving arms.  Although I may not convince either theologians or laypersons; nevertheless, it is what believe.  Just sayin'.

Decades ago, Elisabeth Kubler-Ross, dean of grief and loss research, identified five stages of grief.  She posited that people experiencing impending death first traverse a path before coming to terms with uncompromising death. Denial. Anger. Bargaining. Depression. Acceptance.  The stages, which I call movements, apply as well to survivors.  These emotions, reactions, and responses tend to ricochet like balls on a pool table or as a body-contorting rollercoaster.  Faster than a speeding bullet...

Only you, dear Survivor, can feel (yet often not be able to label), the sensations you're feeling (or not), from moment to moment.  Only you now fight the constant barrage of impotence and isolation.  The desire to be left alone vies with the vulnerability of isolation.  Loneliness competes with rage! The unfairness of it all! You're climbing uphill from "the valley of the shadow of death."

I must alert you that you'll experience paralysis and mania---chairbound one moment and moving like the Energizer bunny the next minute.  Nothing makes sense!  "NO, NO, it can't be!" often marks the first stage.  Then, the angst of anger.   Losing struggles as you bargain with God or the gods or circumstances to return to the "before," when your life was "normal".  Subsequent feelings of helplessness herald depression in its many permutations. Finally, and who knows when that may happen, you tentatively begin to explore options.

The irony? Grief is messy! Unpredictable, a saboteur, with no sense of order. Sneaky! These stages, or movements, do not operate with clockwise precision. No! I'd find myself feeling anger and depression while bargaining for just one more chance to hug my Courtney or talk to her on Instagram.  Death tricked me a few times.  Just when I'd believe I'd reached acceptance, BAM! I was back into denial and anger.   

Yet, none of these emotions is predictable.  They zigzag, bump into one another, wobble back and forth, and leave you exhausted and breathless.  I finally surrendered as much as I could.  Though far from complete, I throw up my arms to heaven to ease insufferable pain.  Although I'm still a work in progress, we share faith and the certainty that Our Father heals.  He will heal us; He will! 

Psalmist Lowell Mason penned "My Faith Looks Up to Thee," 

"While life's dark maze I tread,
And griefs around me spread,
Be Thou my guide;
Bid darkness turn today,
Wipe sorrow's tears away,
Nor let me ever stray
From Thee aside."

   Know, dear Friend, that Iam here for you.  In spirit, in love, in peace.  Always.  I pray for you and won't stop until you tell me.

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Thank you, dear Readers, from Brazil to Ukraine; from Canada, India, Poland, South Korea, the United States, and many countries in between.  Your support of those of us who grieve gratifies and helps to heal me as I share thoughts about death, loss, and loved ones.  I also write about the impact of our losses,  which include, but are not limited to, hope, relationships income, dreams, and"isms" (age, sex, and race to name a few).  I hope you'll subscribe and share comments and donations so we can reach even more "club members" all over the World.  Blessings!