September means that summer is coming to an end. Personally, I’m ready for Fall.
I realize that is probably an unpopular position. Most years, I’d rather just stay in “Summer mode” all year long. Summer is a time to relax, spend time with friends, take that vacation, enjoy Bar-be-ques and swimming pools. And I’ve had my share of all those good things. But this summer has also been a time of struggle and sadness for me. I spent a healthy chunk of my vacation visiting my cousin Ross, who was slowly dying of cancer. And just a few weeks after returning from vacation, he did in fact die.
Losing someone close to you is always painful. Ross’ death was made more difficult by the fact that he was only 38 years old and had been diagnosed with cancer only in February. It all happened so fast, that none us could really fully process what was happening. One day, Ross was gone.
I don’t wish to burden you with my grief, but I wanted to let you know how much I have appreciated your prayers, your kind notes and cards, and your care. It is so helpful to have a community of people who support you and care for you as you go through a tough time. But I also wanted to reflect with you a little bit on the nature of grief.
As I watched my cousin get sicker and sicker, I felt myself increasingly in a fog. My brain was just not working as well as it usually does (and I need all of my brain power!) and I just felt distracted. Ross was on my mind. When I visited him, I hated to leave him. He was so weak and so helpless. And this was a guy who basically built anything he needed, created amazing works of art, and had just started his own art-installation and transportation business. Ross did not take life sitting down. Now, though, he was reduced to a shell of his former self. For the first time ever, I saw this big, powerful, charismatic guy, knocked down and beaten by a terrible disease.
After Ross’s death, I felt the fog I was in begin to clear. I miss Ross terribly. But I am also relieved that his suffering is finally over. I find myself returning to myself, picking up good habits again, taking care of myself again, not being so distracted again.
Grief is a process of clearing the fog. It is a process of returning to yourself. It is a painful, difficult, and sometimes scary process. But when we grieve, we begin to gain our footing again, our life gets traction again, and we feel ourselves emerging out from under the heavy burden of loss. I don’t think we ever “get over it” as some people suggest. Rather, all of us are in varying stages of grief – all of us have little scars on our hearts where loss and disappointment and sadness have left their marks. Perhaps part of the task of the church is to help all of us grieving people find the way back to ourselves again and again; not to forget our loss and pain, but to pick up the heavy burden for each other just enough so that we can crawl out from under it.