An After Loss Creed
Dear Friends,
My sister, whose husband died suddenly and unexpectedly one year ago yesterday has decided to move closer to her daughters, and so I have been popping by to help with whatever I can. Yesterday, she handed me a stack of books about grief that family and friends have given to her over the past year (including me). I was thrilled to hear her say that she wanted to read about other things (she is a voracious reader) and that she has gotten back to her historical fiction that she loves so much. I am thrilled because, despite the fact that she is still very much grieving and mourning (their wedding anniversary is tomorrow), I am seeing such strength and progress in her big and small decisions and choices that help her to continue to live and find solace and eventually joy in her life.
As I walked to my car with the stack of grief books, a bookmark with a picture of a butterfly on it fell to the ground and begged me to read it. It touched me so deeply that I felt it was a sign that I should share with all of you this week:
Please Be Gentle- An After Loss Creed
Please be gentle with me for I am grieving. The sea I swim in is a lonely one and the shore seems miles away. Waves of despair numb my soul as I struggle through the day.
My heart is heavy with sorrow. I want to shout and scream And repeatedly ask “Why?” At times my grief overwhelms me And I weep bitterly, So great is my loss.
Please don’t turn away or tell me to move on with my life. I must embrace my pain
before I can begin to heal.
Companion me through tears and sit with me in loving silence. Honor where I am in my journey, not where you think I should be.
Listen patiently to my story; I may need to tell it over and over again. It’s how I begin to grasp the enormity of my loss.
Nurture me through weeks and months ahead. Forgive me when I seem distant and inconsolable. A small flame still burns within my heart and shared memories may trigger both laughter and tears.
I need your support and understanding. There is no right or wrong way to grieve. I must find my own path. Please, will you walk beside me?
– Jill B. Englar –
Peace and Serenity, Kevin