I used to enjoy swimming in the sea. I loved to go further out from the beach and catch the bigger waves as they came in. Sometimes I would float over them, sometimes I would dive through them to the other side, and sometimes I would turn around and swim with them until they carried me speedily to shore. Once or twice my timing would be out and the wave would catch me, I was tossed and turned like a sock in the tumble drier until I was dumped unceremoniously on the shore, shaken and bruised with my hair and ears and swimming costume filled with sand.
That’s how I feel now. Only the wave isn’t water, its grief, and I just have to wait and allow myself to be washed onto the shore.
It has been a almost a month now since my son immigrated to Australia with his wife and children. I have been reading a lot about grief. I’ve learned some really helpful things. One of the most encouraging is that the process of grief can take months. It’s a relief because I was starting to wonder why I wasn’t getting over it, what was taking me so long. I also learned that one doesn’t get over grief, one gets through it. That made me think of the sea.
I also learned that we especially grieve the loss of cherished relationships. The more we have invested in the relationship, the greater will be the distress and pain of the separation. The depth of our grief is directly linked to the quality of the relationship with the individual or desired object we have lost. We were devoted to our son and his family, so of course, our suffering is great.
When he was on earth, Jesus knew grief. He wept when his friend Lazarus died. God grieves over his children who refuse to acknowledge him or what he has done for them.
When I first learned that my son was leaving, my first thought was, “I won’t be able to bear it, I will die” But that isn’t true at all. I have borne it. I haven’t died. God’s grace has been sufficient for me. In the month past, there have been times I have smiled, rejoiced, laughed, even. God is here, helping me, supporting me, comforting me, and best of all, teaching me.
That’s how I feel now. Only the wave isn’t water, its grief, and I just have to wait and allow myself to be washed onto the shore.
It has been a almost a month now since my son immigrated to Australia with his wife and children. I have been reading a lot about grief. I’ve learned some really helpful things. One of the most encouraging is that the process of grief can take months. It’s a relief because I was starting to wonder why I wasn’t getting over it, what was taking me so long. I also learned that one doesn’t get over grief, one gets through it. That made me think of the sea.
I also learned that we especially grieve the loss of cherished relationships. The more we have invested in the relationship, the greater will be the distress and pain of the separation. The depth of our grief is directly linked to the quality of the relationship with the individual or desired object we have lost. We were devoted to our son and his family, so of course, our suffering is great.
When he was on earth, Jesus knew grief. He wept when his friend Lazarus died. God grieves over his children who refuse to acknowledge him or what he has done for them.
When I first learned that my son was leaving, my first thought was, “I won’t be able to bear it, I will die” But that isn’t true at all. I have borne it. I haven’t died. God’s grace has been sufficient for me. In the month past, there have been times I have smiled, rejoiced, laughed, even. God is here, helping me, supporting me, comforting me, and best of all, teaching me.
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