A Rant

It's been eight weeks since Michael "relocated", and I just feel like complaining this morning. Isn't that nice?

One of the points in Grief Share this week was in order to receive God's comfort and healing, I need to be honest and I need to bring my complaints to God like David did in many of the Psalms. That was really liberating to me, because I tend to rationalize, spiritualize, and intellectualize what has happened to me. In order to complain, I have to tap into my feelings - even if they're ugly. And they kind of are because grief isn't nice. It's not fair, polite, or refined in any way.

So here goes.

I just finished my Grief Share journaling exercises for the day. One question that elicited a strong response from me was this one:

How does it feel to be around other people who

have not yet experienced the death of a loved one?

I have to modify that question a bit, because within my Grief Share group and in discussions with other people I find that it's beyond that. In my experience, it goes beyond the death of a loved one more specifically to the death of a spouse. It's a unique experience, as are all losses.

My response to this question is that people who haven't lost a spouse don't really get it. That's not to say that everyone who hasn't lost a spouse is without understanding or empathy, but I have found that they are more likely to say dumb, insensitive things. For instance, I've been told that it is better to have loved and lost than to have never loved at all. {Insert me rolling my eyes and then gagging myself with my finger.} If I weren't the kind of person who tries to respond to others politely I might have said what I really think about that kind of stupid cliche, No, it's better to be with the one you love than to have him get an incurable cancer and die too young after you've only been married for a couple of years and you're blissfully happy and trying to make babies!!!

Can I get an amen?

Another couple of things that have rubbed me the wrong way are things I've read in two different books about the death of a spouse. The first is about wedding rings. The books advise that you eventually remove your rings because they give others the wrong impression about your marital status. Well, no kidding!

I'm in no hurry to remove my rings, and I've been wearing Michael's wedding band on the middle finger of my right hand. Seriously, removing one's rings has got to be one of the last things one does in the grief process. There's no point in removing your rings unless you are ready to start dating. I envy women who are widowed later in life and have no desire to marry again. They can wear their rings for the rest of their lives if they like and no one will think twice about it.

The other recommendation is for the bereaved to put away pictures of the deceased. You have got to be joking! I'm supposed to remove all traces of my husband's existence from my life? Who does that really help? It helps anyone else who is uncomfortable with the fact that I'm a widow - that's who! But it wouldn't help me. There are pictures all over the house of Michael and of us together. They are a comfort to me.

There has got to be a healthy way to honor my love for Michael and move forward without stripping my life of the things that symbolize our life together. Thankfully, I do know that I am free to figure out what that looks like without having someone else tell me how to do it.

And with that, I conclude my rant.