A Grief Unobserved (with apologies to C.S. Lewis, author of A Grief Observed)

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The day that my Father was moved from the neurology wing of the hospital to the hospice unit, he was being taken for a scan first.  When they rolled him out of the room, I threw myself across his bed and wailed out loud.  I had been so busy being strong and absorbing the blows of every change and turn that was happening that I had hardly cried.  But that morning I expressed the depth of pain that I felt.

Nurses came running from every direction to see if I was okay.  I quickly pulled myself together again and told them I was okay.

I hardly cried at all through the next few days and weeks.  Too much to do.  To tired to even think about the pain of grief.  It would serve no useful purpose anyway, I told myself.

Last Tuesday, October 15, I went to a place of safety….the quiet grounds of Blue Lake Camp.  Alone.  In a small cabin for one.  I cried.  I wailed.  I expressed what I’d held inside for months.  It began as soon as I got out of the car and dropped my bags on the floor of the cabin.  And lasted for hours.  Eventually, exhausted, I slept.  The next morning I made coffee and cried again.  This time less emotionally.  I ached all over.  I felt the tension leaving my body as the day went on and I focused on the task I’d come to do, which was to write a required Bible study on Ephesians, my grief turned to joy as I began to take short breaks and became aware of the beauty of my surroundings.

As the work of writing progressed, the work of grieving faded into the background. By the time I left three days later my heart was lighter as a result of having an intimidating task completed.  But also, unburdened by the weight of grief now resolved.

I may cry more tears in moments of sadness or in remembering moments of happiness with Daddy. But the deep profound lamenting over my sense of loss that had to occur, has occurred.  It’s not that I’m ashamed of my tears or of my need to express my grief.  It has been a matter of needing to do it my way, in my own time, without everyone trying to comfort me or offer words of solace.  I wanted only God’s comfort.  And I found it….. in the quiet place where I have often been comforted by Him.  At Blue Lake.

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