Living Through Grief: Strength and hope in time of loss (Lion Pocketbooks)

So the man cried out in despair, "Touch me, God, and let me know you are here! I told you I wouldn't leave. My memories, my thoughts are imbedded deep in your heart. I still love you. Do not for one moment think that you have been abandoned. I am in the Light. My spirit rises every time you pray for me, but my energy comes closer to you.

Love does not diminish; it grows stronger. I am the feather that finds you in the yard, the dimmed light that grows brighter in your mind, I place our memories for you to see. We lived in our special way, a way that now has its focus changed. I still crave your understanding and long for the many words of prayer and good fortune for my soul.

As you struggle to adjust without me, I watch silently. Sometimes I summon up all the strength of my new world to make you notice me. Impressed by your grief, I try to impress my love deeper into your consciousness. As you should, I call out to the Heavens for help. You should know that the fountain of youth does exist.

My soul is now healthy. Your love sends me new found energy. I am adjusting to this new world. I am with you and I am in the Light. Please don't feel bad that you can't see me. I am with you wherever you go. I protect you, just as you protected me so many times. Talk to me and somehow I will find a way to answer you. Mother, Father, son or daughter, it makes no difference. Brother, sister, lover, husband or wife, it makes no difference. I am learning to help wherever you are, wherever I am needed. This can be done because I am in the Light. When you feel despair, reach out to me. My love for you truly does transcend from Heaven to Earth.

Finish your life with the enthusiasm and zest that you had when we were together in the physical sense. You owe this to me, but more importantly, you owe it to yourself. Life continues for both of us. I am with you because I love you and I am in the Light. Deep peace of the flowing air to you. Deep peace of the quiet earth to you. Deep peace of the shining stars to you.

Deep peace of the infinite peace to you. It seems that even when I escape it for a while, it is waiting not too far away. We have had long talks, loneliness and I, and I have to say that I have learned much more from our journeying together. We have become friends. But the friendship was a long time in coming. Loneliness did not just come into my life with the accident that left me a widow but it did become immensely intensified then.

Could it be that loneliness is given to us as a reminder that this world was never intended to be our home and the things of this world were never intended to satisfy us? My spirit feels a promise: The world would end each night With one more look at you. In the most unlikely places -- the dentist's, restaurants, creative meetings, sitting on the john -- I can still be engulfed in sobs. In public I have to excuse myself or pretend something's gone down the wrong pipe. I could hardly tell him it was okay, I was only choking on grief. Love me now while I am living.

Do not wait until I am gone and then have it chiseled in marble, sweet words in cold stone. If you have tender thoughts of me, please tell me now. If you wait until I'm sleeping, never to awaken, there will be death between us, and I won't hear you then.

So if you love me, even a little bit, let me know it while I'm living so I can treasure it. These four simple statements are powerful tools for improving your relationships and your life. As a doctor caring for seriously ill patients for nearly 15 years of emergency medicine practice and more than 25 years in hospice and palliative care, I have taught hundreds of patients who were facing life's end, when suffering can be profound, to say The Four Things. But the Four Things apply at any time. Comprising just eleven words, these four short sentences carry the core wisdom of what people who are dying have taught me about what matters most in life.

We are all sons and daughters, whether we are six years of age or ninety-six. Even the most loving parent-child relationship can feel forever incomplete if your mother or father dies without having explicitly expressed affection for you or without having acknowledged past tensions. I've learned from my patients and their families about the painful regret that comes from not speaking these most basic feelings.

Again and again, I've witnessed the value of stating the obvious.

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When you love someone, it is never too soon to say, "I love you," or premature to say, "Thank you," "I forgive you," or "Will you please forgive me? Because accidents and sudden illness do happen, it is never too soon to express forgiveness, to say thank you and I love you to the people who have been an integral or intimate part of our lives, and to say good-bye is a blessing. These simple words hold essential wisdom for transforming that which matters most in our lives -- our relationships with the people we love.

Free Press, New York Sweet Remembrance Let fate do her worst; there are relics of joy, Bright dreams of the past, which she cannot destroy; And which come in the night-time of sorrow and care, To bring back the features that joy used to wear. Long, long be my heart with such memories filled, Like the vase in which roses have once been distilled; You may break, you may ruin the vase, if you will, But the scent of the roses will hang round it still.

Deep within the stillness I can hear you speak. And I believethat angels breathe and that love will live on and never leave. Knowing you are doing something to keep your loved one's memory alive keeps you passionately busy, allows you to tell your sacred story, adds joy to your heart, brings an array of beautiful, loving people into your life, and rewards you with a meaningful life again.

Your loud voice will echo in many hearts making sure your loved one is never erased from memory. Forget unkind words I have spoken; remember some good I have done. Forget that I've stumbled and blundered and sometimes fell by the way. Remember I have fought some hard battles and won, ere the close of the day. Then forget to grieve for my going; I would not have you sad for a day, but in summer just gather some flowers and remember the place where I lay, and come in the shade of the evening when the sun paints the sky in the west. Stand for a few moments beside me and remember only my best.

Since then, Marshall had lost his wife, two siblings, and son-in-law, as well as many friends and colleagues. He was glad to give advice to others. They are always with us. I have preserved the father-space inside me. How Sons of All Ages Come to Terms with the Deaths of Their Dads All the hardships that you face in life, all the tests and tribulations, all the nightmares, and all the losses, most people still view as curses, as punishments by God, as something negative.

If you would only know that nothing that comes to you is negative. All the trials and tribulations, and the biggest losses that you ever experience, things that make you say, "If I had known about this, I would never have been able to make it through," are gifts to you, opportunities that you are given to grow. That is the sole purpose of existence on this planet Earth. You will not grow if you sit in a beautiful flower garden and somebody brings you gorgeous food on a silver platter. But you will grow if you are sick, if you are in pain, if you experience losses, and if you do not put your head in the sand, but take the pain and learn to accept it, not as a curse or punishment, but as a gift to you with a very, very specific purpose.

He just listens and lets you work it out for yourself. It is a whisper in the world and a clamor within. More than sex, more than faith, even more than its usher death, grief is unspoken, publicly ignored except for those few moments at the funeral that are over too quickly, or the conversations among the cognoscenti, those of us who recognize in one another a kindred chasm deep in the center of who we are. Maybe we do not speak of it because death will mark all of us, sooner or later.

Or maybe it is unspoken because grief is only the first part of it. After a time it becomes something less sharp but larger, too, a more enduring thing called loss. Perhaps that is why this is the least explored passage: The world loves closure, loves a thing that can, as they say, be gotten through. This is why it comes as a great surprise to find that loss is forever, that two decades after the event there are those occasions when something in you cries out at the continual presence of an absence.

I miss him more, I find, in the unexpected moments that remind me of how he was in day-to-day life. The discovery of a volume on maritime history at a used-book sale, for example, can make my throat close up momentarily as I recall how he'd settle in after dinner with just such a treasure.

These are the details that bring my father back to me, and also remind me of my loss. Halfway through the second year after my husband's death, the cycles of intense pain and sadness were continuing, and I felt a fresh fear that my grief would never finish. Part of me wanted to ignore this intense pain returning month after month, to push it down and avoid it all together. Yet I suspected that repressing my own pain would not help in the long run either, so I decided to bring more awareness to my situation.

I asked myself if I was doing anything that might be prolonging the mourning process. Then I uncovered the secret thoughts I was generating each time I felt deep sadness and pain: I can't live without you. I hate being alone. I want you back. There was so much grasping in my mind, so many wishes that could never be satisfied! If I continued to think and feel this way, I realized, there would be no end to my grief and despair. It was clear that I needed to replace my grasping with a new way of thinking: I am letting you go and wishing you well.

I am going to survive and be strong. I am going to make a new life for myself. When I felt the deep pain and sadness rising again, I began practicing letting go in this way. After a few months of taking this approach, my process of mourning finished. Vulnerability to death is one of the given conditions of life.

We can't explain it any more than we can explain life itself. We can't control it, or sometimes even postpone it. All we can do is try to rise beyond the question, "Why did it happen? Kushner, in When Bad Things Happen to Good People It may be quite possible that we are not necessarily undergoing 'unresolved loss' when a past death comes up for us. Instead, this could be our opportunity to experience the older loss in a different light, one with some perspective and yes, even wisdom.

Even if the feelings that come up are quite painful, this may not mean that you didn't do 'grief work' right the first time! It may just be that now is the time for you to experience that loss and your current one at a deeper level, given who you are today and what you now know about yourself.

Many of us still have parts of our losses that may remain on some level 'unresolved. We may still be asking sometimes unanswerable questions about older losses, but perhaps how we ask them has changed significantly. And perhaps we have a greater comfort level for these questions being unanswered. And perhaps, we have a greater tolerance for ourselves in not having all the answers. I thought that I needed to discover the real cause of his hopelessness.

I studied and analyzed what I believed to be his suicide note. Finally, I perceived that a death by suicide is a result of factors too numerous to count. I wanted to know why, but I didn't have to have an answer in order to go on living my own life. Even the most experienced and astute investigators are finally forced to make what at best is only an educated guess. It is important, however, to ask why. It is important to worry about why, because one finally exhausts possibility after possibility and ultimately one tires of the fruitless search. Then it is time to let it go and to start healing.

This phrase is often misunderstood. Does it mean forgetting, letting go of our memories? Does it mean letting go of a relationship with our deceased loved ones? Our relationship is changed, not ended. In doing so we let go of our pain. We do not need it anymore. A Workbook People's voices continue to be heard after death in the traces of their utterances, in other people's speaking, and in ongoing responses to their words.

For the living, this means that, to the degree that we continue to respond to the meanings generated in conversation with someone before they died, those meanings continue to live on. In a quite tangible sense, people can live on after death in and through words and our relationships with the dead need not be considered closed with the nailing down of the lid of a coffin.

Maddy is a very significant part of me, and I will carry her along for the rest of my life journey. She resides within my heart, and as such she will never be "gotten over. To resolve, to let go, to move on, means denying my family history. Not only does that diminish Maddy, it diminishes who I am and my place in the world.

It is perfectly normal to search for a continued connection with my granddaughter. It is neither pathological nor dysfunctional to think about her, to miss her, and to talk about her. Once I started thinking about the word renewal and all its implications, I felt a sense of calm. I could invest my energy in discovering not only how to incorporate the stillbirth experience into my being, but also the life lessons. I could actively look for ways to honor and memorialize Maddy.

She had no visible presence in the world, but I do.

• Comfort for Grieving Hearts.
• Upcoming Events.
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• Anne of Green Gables.
• Rip It Up;

My thoughts, my actions, and my words can ensure that she will not be forgotten. I am able to explore and appreciate things in a new way and no longer believe in coincidence. He takes his seat, unhinges the clasps of his legs, Tucking one leg back, extending the other, Laying down his crutches, placing the violin under his chin. On one occasion one of his violin strings broke. The audience grew silent but the violinist did not leave the stage. He signaled the maestro, and the orchestra began its part.

The violinist played with power and intensity on only three strings. With three strings, he modulated, changed and Recomposed the piece in his head He retuned the strings to get different sounds, Turned them upward and downward. The audience screamed with delight, Applauded their appreciation. Asked later how he had accomplished this feat, The violinist answered, "It is my task to make music with what remains.

A legacy mightier than a concert. Make music with what remains. Complete the song left for us to sing, Transcend the loss, Play it out with heart, soul and might With all remaining strength within us. Schulweis You cannot prevent the birds of sorrow from flying overhead, but you can prevent them from making nests in your hair. Hold on to what you believe even if it is a tree which stands by itself. Hold on to what you must do even if it is a long way from here. Hold on to life even when it is easier letting go. Hold on to my hand even when I have gone away from you.

I stand near the coffee and watch the gathering.

Living Through Grief : Strength and hope in time of loss

Her smile falters; Her composure is complete, A feat, I think, of fear and fatigue. How can I warn her That the numbness leaves And agony becomes one's bedfellow As anger roosts in the breast? Now is not the best Time for reality. But when the friends and family Have all gone away, And her house is naked In its emptiness, Then, then I'll visit -- For tea, and trust, and truthtelling. And you looked away and quickly began to talk again. All the attention you had given me drained away. I do better when people listen, though I may shed a tear or two. These feelings are indescribable. Yet I need you.

Your attention means more than you can ever know. Really, tears are not a bad sign, you know! They relieve some of the stress of sadness. My tears make my loss more visible to you, but you did not cause this sadness. It was already there. When I cry, could it be that you feel helpless, not knowing what to do? You need not speak. Your silence is all I need. When I hold back my tears, my throat grows tight, my chest aches, my stomach knots.

Then we both hurt. So please, take my hand and see me through my tears. Whether they are the result of joy or sorrow, tears are a response to emotions for which we can find no words. They reveal our most vulnerable self. When we cry we are releasing the pain of the loss, not the memory of the one we cherish. The most dramatic rainbows seem to follow the most severe storms. Now when my eyes overflow, I use a guided imagery technique to visualize my tears washing away the pain that I carry inside my heart and soul.

And when they finally stop, I look for the brilliant rainbow of love and hope. And right now, I feel like I have fifty broken bones and when I'm still, it hurts, and when I move, it hurts even more, no matter what part of me I move, all those broken bones grinding together. Worst of all, anyone who tries to comfort me moves those bones, hurts me worse. I don't think I will ever reach a place where I could consider [my son] Seth's death a "gift" any more than I consider rape or child abductions, terrorist attacks, murder, genocide, or famine "gifts.

Why can't we just admit that painful things are painful? Why can't we just sit down with people and cry along with them as we admit that what happened is cause for tears? We don't need people to rush in and frantically try to wrap it all up pretty with a bow, like it is something we should savor.

In time, we may see goodness that seeped out of badness, but we should leave it to God to show us that, when our eyes are not so full of tears and we can see more clearly. Price, in "Helping the Bereaved: When love ends, be it the first mad romance of adolescence, the love that will not sustain a marriage, or the love of a failed friendship, it is the same. Likewise in the event of a miscarriage or an abortion: And there is no public or even private funeral. Sometimes only regret and nostalgia mark the passage. This poem was written by Lorraine in , in loving and everlasting memory of her beloved unborn son Damien: The one gift you were blessed with That needle that you felt Has left your heart completely empty And your head filled up with Guilt.

Memory is the overwhelming theme, the eventual comfort. But burying infants, we bury the future, unwieldy and unknown, full of promise and possibilities, outcomes punctuated by our rosy hopes. The grief has no borders, no limits, no known ends and the little infant graves that edge the corners and fencerows of every cemetery are never quite big enough to contain that grief. Some sadnesses are permanent. Dead babies do not give us memories. They give us dreams. Fingerprints that teach me about caring.

Fingerprints that teach me about love. Fingerprints that teach me about courage. Fingerprints that teach me about hope. Fingerprints that bring me closer to my loved ones. Fingerprints that bring me closer to myself. In the time I cared for you my whole life changed -- never to be the same again All this from tiny fingerprints that touch my heart. You will live in my heart forever - never to be forgotten. I will always love you. You are my child. And you learn that love doesn't mean leaning and company doesn't always mean security. And you begin to learn that kisses aren't contracts and presents aren't promises And you begin to accept your defeats with your head up and your eyes ahead with the grace of an adult, not the grief of a child And you learn to build all your roads on today because tomorrow's ground is too uncertain for plans and futures have a way of falling down in mid-flight.

After a while you learn that even sunshine burns if you get too much. So you plant your own garden and decorate your own soul instead of waiting for someone to bring you flowers. And you learn that you really can endure that you really are strong and you really do have worth. And you learn and you learn with every goodbye you learn. Shoffstall [Click here to see this poem in flash animation] Apparently, the messages that come from beyond can be swift and delicate and if we are not open and receptive they will fly by unseen and unheard, and will fall to earth, we know not where.

If we can catch them in their flight, we will find that peace descends upon us and we will feel the breeze of an angel's wing as it gently reaches out and touches us. Crossing the Bridge Between Worlds lpen starstream. For attractive lips, speak words of kindness. For lovely eyes, seek out the good in people. For a slim figure, share your food with the hungry. For beautiful hair, let a child run his or her fingers through it once a day.

For poise, walk with the knowledge that you never walk alone. People, even more than things, have to be restored, renewed, revived, reclaimed, and redeemed; never throw out anyone. Remember, if you ever need a helping hand, you will find one at the end of each of your arms. As you grow older, you will discover that you have two hands: And if you need to cry, cry with your brother or sister who walks in grief beside you. And when you need me, put your arms around anyone and give to them what you need to give to me. There are so many who need so much. I want to leave you something -- something much better than words or sounds.

Look for me in the people I've known or helped in some special way. Let me live in your heart as well as in your mind. You can love me most by letting your love reach out to our loved ones, by embracing them and living in their love. Love does not die, people do. So, when all that's left of me is love, give me away as best you can. Death ends a life but death does not end a relationship. If we allow ourselves to be still and if we take responsibility for our grief, the grief becomes as polished and luminous and mysterious as death itself. When it does, we learn to love anew, not only the one who has died.

We learn to love anew those who yet live. He maketh me to lie down in green pastures; He leadeth me beside the still waters. He restoreth my soul; He leadeth me in the paths of righteousness for His name's sake. Yea, though I walk through the valley of the shadow of death, I will fear no evil; for Thou art with me; Thy rod and they staff they comfort me. Thou preparest a table before me in the presence of mine enemies: Thou anointest my head with oil, my cup runneth over.

Surely goodness and mercy shall follow me all the days of my life: His daily migration always leads to the foot of our bed and is followed by our rude awakening as he wedges between me and my wife. Our bed does not comfortably fit the three of us. I'm forced to sleep on my left side and my wife on her right. My wife goes through similar pains as she wrestles back to sleep.

This arrangement leave us tired and sore each morning. If I find myself resting next to a bed with tubes and wires invading my son as monitors watch his motionless sleep, I will desperately pray for him and his pillow to come home and shatter the morning's peace at the foot of our bed. If I find myself resting next to a slab marked by a stone that speaks of my son, I will heartfully beg to reset the clock to when my side of the bed was not my own.

Deep peace, a soft white dove to you; Deep peace, a quiet rain to you; Deep peace, an ebbing wave to you! Deep peace, red wind of the east from you; Deep peace, gray wind of the west to you; Deep peace, dark wind of the north from you; Deep peace, pure red of the flame to you; Deep peace, pure white of the moon to you; Deep peace, pure green of the grass to you; Deep peace, pure brown of the living earth to you; Deep peace, pure gray of the dew to you; Deep peace, pure blue of the sky to you; Deep peace of the running wave to you, Deep peace of the flowing air to you, Deep peace of the quiet Earth to you, Deep peace of the sleeping stones to you, Deep peace of the yellow shepherd to you, Deep peace of the wandering shepherdess to you, Deep peace of the Flock of Stars to You.

Deep peace of the Son of Peace to You. Deep Peace, Deep Peace. Living one day at a time, enjoying one moment at a time, accepting hardship as the pathway to peace. Taking, as He did, this sinful world as it is, not as I would have it; trusting that He will make all things right if I surrender to His will; that I may be reasonably happy in this life and supremely happy with Him forever in the next. I hate the word closure when connected with the loss of a loved one. You know what I mean -- a spouse, a sibling, a friend dies. Weeks later there are those who want to know when the bereaved will find closure.

The dictionary defines closure as '. Though the intention is meant to be sympathetic, there is evoked a note of chastisement for failing to end the mourning process. In the eloquent words of Dr. And even after weeks, months, and years later, grief may ebb, but never ends. The Song of Songs has an insightful perspective on the death of a beloved. Instead of a word like closure 'to end' , are the thoughts of never forgetting, always remembering. The final day of Passover. In the synagogue is a 'wall of remembrance' of past members who are recalled with lights lit by their names.

There is no closure. The beauty of their lives never ends. The life of the dead is now placed in the memory of the living. For 'love is strong as death' 8: It was given to him by the minister who read it at her sister's funeral 47 years ago: Safely Home I am home in Heaven, dear ones Oh so happy and so bright There is perfect joy and beauty In this everlasting light All the grief and pain are over Every restless tossing passed I am now at peace forever Safely home in Heaven at last Did you wonder how I so calmly Trod the valley of the shade?

Then you must not grieve so sorely For I love you dearly still Try to look beyond Earth's shadows Pray to trust our Father's will There is work still waiting for you So you must not idly stand Do it now while life remaineth You shall rest in our Father's land When the work is all completed He will gently call you home Oh the rapture of that meeting Oh the joy to see you come!

Ennis and Ellen Ann Ennis bblennis aol. Francis of Assisi Lord, make me an instrument of Your peace. Where there is hatred, let me sow love; where there is injury, pardon; where there is doubt, faith; where there is despair, hope; where there is darkness, light and where there is sadness, joy.

O Divine Master, grant that I may not so much seek to be consoled as to console; to be understood as to understand; to be loved as to love. For it is in giving that we receive; It is in pardoning that we are pardoned, and it is in dying that we are born to eternal life. If we are loved and remembered, then we live on forever in the hearts of those who love us. How to Begin Again After the Death of Someone You Love To Remember Me The day will come when my body will lie upon a white sheet neatly tucked under four corners of a mattress located in a hospital busily occupied with the living and the dying.

At a certain moment a doctor will determine that my brain has ceased to function and that, for all intents and purposes, my life has stopped. When that day comes, do not attempt to instill artificial life into my body by the use of a machine. And don't call this my deathbed. Let it be called the Bed of Life, and let my body be taken from it to help others lead fuller lives. Give my sight to the man who has never seen a sunrise, a baby's face or the love in the eyes of a woman. Give my heart to a person whose own heart has caused nothing but endless days of pain.

Give my kidneys to one who depends on a machine to exist from week to week. Take my bones, every muscle, every fiber and nerve in my body and find a way to make a crippled child walk. If you must bury something, let it be my faults, my weaknesses and all prejudice against my fellow man. Give my sins to the devil. Give my soul to God. If, by chance, you wish to remember me, do it with a kind deed or word to someone who needs you. If you do all I have asked, I will live forever. Test Noted author and lecturer Leo Buscaglia tells of a four-year-old boy who lived next door to an elderly gentleman who had recently lost his wife.

One day the child saw the man sitting on his porch in a rocking chair, and noticed that he was crying. Without saying a word, he just sat there. Later, when his mother asked him what he had said to the neighbor, the little boy answered, "Nothing, I just helped him cry. Smile because it happened.

That is how I know you go on. Far across the distance and spaces between us You have come to show you go on. Near, far, wherever you are I believe that the heart does go on. Once more you open the door And you're here in my heart And my heart will go on and on. Love can touch us one time and last for a lifetime And never let go till we're gone. Love was when I loved you One true time I hold you In my life we'll always go on.

Once more, you open the door And you're here in my heart And my heart will go on and on. You're here, there's nothing I fear And I know that my heart will go on. We'll stay forever this way You are safe in my heart And my heart will go on and on. A Novel Sometimes our light goes out but it is blown again into flame by an encounter with another human being.

Each of us owes the deepest thanks to those who have rekindled this inner light. The friend who can be silent with us in a moment of despair or confusion, who can stay with us in an hour of grief or bereavement, who can tolerate not knowing, not curing, not healing, and face us with the reality of our powerlessness, that is a friend who cares. Nouwen in Out of Solitude; Three Meditations on the Christian Life Death is not the extinguishing of the light, but the putting out of the lamps because the dawn has come.

When I work with bereaved people I ask them to make a list of their support system. But I also have them identify their respite people. These are the people who are friends even though they are uncomfortable with pain and grief. I remind bereaved people that these persons can help, too. They are often good people to go with to get away from grief. They are unlikely to ask about the loss. But they have a valued role in providing diversion. A Newsletter to Help in Bereavement Hospice Foundation of America May The bitterest tears shed over graves are for words left unsaid and deeds left undone.

Walking People Through a Loss. We are doing well with our grief when we are grieving. Somehow we have it backwards. We think people are doing well when they aren't crying. Grief is a process of walking through some painful periods toward learning to cope again. We do not walk this path without pain and tears. When we are in the most pain, we are making the most progress. When the pain is less, we are coasting and resting up for the next steps. People need to grieve. Grief is not an enemy to be avoided; it is a healing path to be walked.

Frankl You have to take responsibility for how you feel. When you make loss totally responsible for your pain, you make replacement of the loss your only hope for ending the pain. We can use our creativity to give expression to our grief. Poetry, painting, dance, storytelling, [music], sculpture or any of the various creative arts can be effective outlets. First, they give expression to our deepest experiences. Sometimes there are no words. More than that, creative arts are suited for every individual.

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Each of us has unique talents or abilities, our own interests, levels, and our own preferences. Some may use the creative arts to express feelings while others will use it to share fond memories or thoughts. Still, for others, the very act of doing something is therapeutic.

Producing or experiencing the productions of others gives a visual reminder that sometimes the worst experiences of life can be transformed into a tragic beauty. In its own way, that offers continued hope. It is in that liberation that we find an awakening to new possibilities, to new understanding and to growth. Love isn't something that ends with death. Life can become good and whole and complete once again.

Grief hits us like a ton of bricks, flattens us like a steamroller, hurls us into the depths of despair. We know in a flash when grief hits, but when does it end? Like the month of March, grief rushes in like a lion and tiptoes out like a lamb. Sometimes, we don't know when grief leaves, because we won't let go of the lion's tail.

Why do we hold on so long? Grief offers us safety, protection from the world. We don't want to let go because we secretly fear that we'll forget our loved ones, and we don't want to forget — ever. We don't want to let go because we fear the future and having to face life without our loved ones. We don't want to let go because we make the mistake of measuring our grief with the depth of our love — when neither has anything to do with the other.

How do we know when grief has run its course? How do we know when we've grieved enough? How do we know when it's time to let go of the tail? We know when we feel joy again, in something or someone. We know when we wake up in the morning and our first thought is on something other than our loss. We know when we look ahead with a smile and back with fond memories, and when we no longer dread the nights.

We know when our life starts filling up with new interests and people, and we start reaching for the stars Grief ends when we let go of the tail. The word "anniversary" no longer holds a promise of celebration. Instead, holidays and birthdays, family gatherings and otherwise joyous occasions contain an undertow of sorrow.

If I get caught up in it, I quickly get pulled under and wind up gasping for breath. It is ironic that the presence of an absence can be so emotionally devastating. Relationships can be put on hold though sometimes because we don't recognize the love that surrounds us , our bodies respond differently than before energy levels, appetite, sleep, general health and our emotions often become, at best, a wild ride through some very dark and gloomy waters.

Even God our beliefs, values and sources of strength is different. For some, even the ability to believe in anyone or anything is stretched to impossibility, for a long time, maybe even forever. Sorrow can be a very deep hole, deepened by our perceived loss of that sense of connection.

For many it is about despair, fear and hopelessness. For others, a sense of sadness and futility. It may be less severe for many, but it is still there. For all of us still wrestle with the essential questions of life and meaning. Why did this happen? Why did this happen now? What will happen to me? How will I live now? Do I want to go on living? What do I need to do now? These are the questions of life and grief, as old as the ancient psalms and as fresh as this morning's first cup of coffee.

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What does all of this mean for you and me? The answer and it isn't really an answer, but a choice, a hunch, a moving through the journeys of grief and of faith all twisted and turned together is in connecting to myself, my story and my God. My beliefs help me identify where I am, who I am, where I am going, and how I will get there.

Healthy spirituality never dodges the tough bullets of grief. It never diminishes my worth and never dismisses my feelings. My relationship with God leaves me plenty of time and space to wander and to ponder. There is room to be angry, with the encouragement to receive anger's gift rather than be seduced by its rage.

I can connect with my guilt, yet welcome forgiveness that restores. My loneliness is embraced through religious community or context, ritual, sacrament and prayer or whatever fits with your traditions. Grief's anonymity "Doesn't anyone understand? Instead, we must learn how to grieve in healthy ways and work through our difficulties. If you are wondering what you can do to help a friend who is in intense mourning, here are some suggestions: Recognize that everyone grieves at their own pace. Some progress rather quickly, some move very slowly.

We never move at the speed that others think we should. Help us take one day at a time. Keep us company and be there for us. You don't need to say anything profound or do anything earthshaking. Often, your greatest help is your quiet presence and simplest deeds. Make suggestions and initiate contact and activities. It is important for you to respect our privacy and give us some time alone, but we also may not have the energy to structure our lives right after a traumatic loss.

We may have to rely on others to think of things that we don't know to ask for. Provide a safe environment for us to show strong emotions. It may be very painful, but it can be of enormous help. Help us remember good things. Tell us your memories of our loved one as you listen to us tell you ours. If we begin to show our emotions outwardly, you have not upset us, you have simply enabled us to be a bit more open in your presence. Be there after the first wave is over.

Make the effort to call, to come by, to help us out six months and even a year down the road. Crowds may be difficult for us. Shopping and holidays will be overwhelming. If we're not up to a visit we'll let you know, but let us know you remember and are there for us. We need to tell our story over and over in order to process our grief. We may even say outrageous things. Don't judge us by what we say or how we feel. We have a lot to work through, and in time we will come to the answers that are right for us. You may not be able to help us with certain issues right now, so don't be too quick to share your opinions if we say something you don't agree with.

We need time to work things out on our own. Be sensitive to our needs, be patient, have confidence and believe in us. We will get better, we will experience healing; but it will take some time, and it can be rough going for much of the way. Be on the lookout for destructive behaviors. Traumatic loss can lead some people into depression, alcohol or drug abuse. We may need you to keep an eye on us while things are especially tough. Help us find humorous diversion. Laughter is good medicine. Be willing to do difficult things with us. We may need someone to sit with us in court; we may need a safe place to rage; we may need help with the funeral or afterwards.

There may be some hard times ahead and facing them alone can be terrifying. Help us find ways to bring good things out of the bad. It is important that our loved one be remembered and memorialized. Find out about grief. Read some of the books that are available. The more you know, the better able you will be to help us. Help us to find support and inspiration.

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Often, a poem or song will speak to us in ways that no one else can. Also, talking to someone who has survived a similar loss can help us to realize that we are not alone in our grief. We have to go through this valley in order to get to the other side. Dealing with grief cannot be avoided or postponed. Grief can make relationships difficult and you may get frustrated with us or feel uneasy around us. But please remember that now, more than ever, we need the caring and patient support of our friends and family. Help us get through this as well as we are able. Your true friendship and companionship, your kindness and patience can help us get our lives back together.

We will experience some level of grief over our loved one's loss for the rest of our lives. Some days will simply be better than others. One day, we hope to reach a point where our good days outnumber the bad. That will be a major milestone for us.

Thank you for being here for us. If you are kind, people may accuse you of ulterior motives. If you are honest, people may cheat you. If you find happiness, people may be jealous. The good you do today may be forgotten tomorrow. Give the world the best you have, and it may never be enough. Give your best anyway. For you see, in the end, it is between you and God. It never was between you and them anyway. The most beautiful people we have known are those who have known defeat, known suffering, known struggle, known loss, and have found their way out of the depths.

These persons have an appreciation, a sensitivity, and an understanding of life that fills them with compassion, gentleness, and a deep, loving concern. If the dead do not matter, it will not be long until the living don't matter either. They sparkle and shine when the sun is out, but when the darkness sets in, their true beauty is revealed only if there is light from within. To put oneself right with death. After that, everything is possible. I cannot force you to believe in God. Believing in God amounts to coming to terms with death.

When you have accepted death, the problem of God will be solved -- and not the reverse. A Letter to You It is said that death is part of life; that it is the other side of birth. I believe that death can also give meaning to life, a meaning that may escape you now while your grief is fresh and raw, but which may someday bring a special quality of peace to your spirit. As terrible as your loss seems now, you will survive it even though that may seem unbelievable right now. Once that happens, you will have touched upon a new and incredible inner strength. But for now you may be a mixture of thoughts and feelings.

Despair, longing, anger, guilt, frustration, questions and even understanding, tumble over each other, striving for but not quite reaching comprehensible sense and shape. You seek relief — you need to heal. It is a journey, and you must work on it. The pain is real, but the tears are healing. Often we must struggle through an emotion to find the relief beyond. Talk to each other about your loss and pain. Don't hide or deny real feelings. Tell others that you need them.

The more you deny something or address it in silence, the more it can claim destructive power over you. Over and over, you will ask "Why? The Best Books of Check out the top books of the year on our page Best Books of Product details Format Paperback 48 pages Dimensions x x 5. Looking for beautiful books? Visit our Beautiful Books page and find lovely books for kids, photography lovers and more. Table of contents Contents Introduction Sorrow comes to everyone Stage one: Book ratings by Goodreads.

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