Healing will come when it comes
Take your expectations with you
Please let me be: I’ll find my pace
Yes I am pained but I got my peace
I know you understand, empathize
But these shoes are mine to wear
No, they aren’t yours: mine to bear.
Healing is a process, don’t push me
It will come when it comes, I can’t
Take it like you, can’t take it your way
I can only take it how it comes to me
Not with time but with God
My hope lives, healing will begin
When the time is right, until then
Please let me learn to walk this change
That turned my world, my life around.

Overly concerned friends and family can become a burden in times of grief. People deal grief differently and it is the responsibility of those around to walk with the grieving in the way that they can accommodate, at the pace that does not falter their already altered life. It is easy to get carried away with caring that we actually exacerbate the anguish of loss rather than alleviate it. In the place of grief, it feels like your all has been snatched away, you have nothing to offer anyone else, not even yourself so any demand on already exhausted emotion is neither welcome not helpful even if it is not verbalized.

Some take another’s loss so personal that they are devastated to the concern of the grieving who now feels some measure of responsibility to help them and avoid additional loss. Please, manage your grief and understand that no matter how pained you feel, it is not the same with the person directly linked to the loss. Don’t become a concern to them.

In these days of social media, do not rush to be the first to publish another’s grief. That is one of the meanest things anybody can do. Allow people to be the bearers of their own report when they are comfortable enough to put it out. And please, be sensitive in your sharing. You don’t want someone with whom you haven’t spoken with in ages suddenly on Facebook publishing a private pain you are still struggling to come to terms with. Good grief! “Like I don’t have enough on my plate already?”

It is okay to be around the grieving but do so with affectability. Sometimes, people need to be left alone. It is imperative that we respect their privacy. And when you are in their presence, let your conduct honor their status. Go outside and enjoy a good belly laugh if that’s what you feel like but don’t throw it to their face if they are not up to it yet, then wonder why they can’t laugh – the “why” is obvious to the blind.

I have seen people who wonder why after “so many years you are still hooked to that loss.” Well, to you it’s a mere event, to the one who bears the brunt, it’s a lifetime scar, respect it please. Thank you.  Don’t hang around and act like it didn’t happen, expecting them to act along – to you it may be drama but to them, it is bitter reality. If you want to move on, feel free but don’t attempt to drag them along in your cheery pursuits: you don’t know that some voids can’t ever be filled until life digs a gaping hole in your heart. Your intentions may be honestly to help them get over it but face it, this is something they will live with for the rest of their lives. Don’t help them get over it because that won’t happen and if you must help them live with what they were served, grace and patience are essential keys.

For every believer who has borne the sting of the death of a beloved, healing will come. It may take months, years, but it’s okay. There is no rush – those who heal in a hurry find themselves devastated each time memory scrapes that scar but when true healing takes place, we don’t ignore, deny or escape the loss; we live with it but its power over us is minimized as we grow stronger; until the power of that loss over us is broken and we can stand where we are, look back and sigh in acceptance that doesn’t turn like knives slashing broken hearts. Until then, healing is a process that takes different time for different folks. For some, it will take a lifetime. And that’s okay. Every bereaved will learn to find their pace (even if it is for the first time) and live with it.

Finally, to answer the question, “Can we ever forget?” Grief taught me that no one who has loved and lost forgets completely. And truly, we don’t want to forget. Don’t make me forget. Don’t push me to act like I have forgotten. Don’t even encourage me to forget. Just let me learn to live my loss until I can bear to live it well. Until then, all you can really do is apply honorable grace and patience with anyone bereaved. Grief is a tight corner to bide, a tough line to walk but it is livable if those around spice their care and communications with discernment.

Glory!