I now see, it took my husbands passing to explore deepened relationships with my four adult children. Even though I am immensely grateful for our intensified affection and frequent times together, bittersweet sorrow comes with this…..the fact is, the following is another transparent facet of my “Growing Thru Grief” story.
Within hours of his passing, as he still lay in the bedroom, inwardly I was crying out to God saying, “God, I hope you know what You are doing…how will (this child) and (another child) handle his death? WHAT WILL THIS DO IN / TO THEIR LIVES?” At that same moment I equally felt confident that two of the four would manage things “OK” in the crisis of losing their dad.
With my-now-full-hindsight of that life altering day, not only was I overwhelmed with shock and grief, a looming shadowy fear had also risen its ugly head alongside the pain. Losing Loren left me in one MORE situation of the possibility of having to hold the world together, this time by myself. In addition, I simply couldn’t bear the thought of experiencing a greater crisis of ANY kind at ANY level.
Today, at four years out, I reminisce how grief effects the whole extended family. From the surviving spouse, down to the adult children and on down to the grandchildren… death hurts. Loren’s death still impacts my siblings and their spouses, my nieces and nephews, my parents. Loren’s death still impacts his siblings and spouses and his nieces and nephews.
My children and I now seem to be glued together. Sometimes I wonder if we appear to be anti-social to the other people at the parties or family gatherings. At a BarBQ yesterday, we all sat close to each other around a table, our chairs sitting far closer to each other than they would’ve been before his passing (although… the daughters would have been nestled up close to their dad with his arm around the back of their chairs and his hands resting on their shoulders).
No, we are not anti-social. We, together, are capable of visiting with others who are not part of our immediate family but our attentions are quickly drawn back to each other. We, together, are quick to ask if the other is doing ok. We, together, are quicker to compassionately respond if someone seems to be having a hard time. Laughter bubbles easier. In fact, our sense of humor has remained intact….I wonder, if because we had tapped into the vein of deep pain, together, have all of our senses now become heightened?
My children and I have, just recently, started talking about grief……wondering if we aren’t the examples of “complicated grief”. OUR story is, our family didn’t live a perfect rosy life. We, with him also, survived many brutal bumps along the way.
As we now share amongst ourselves, we are discovering that after a loved ones death the brutal bumps of the past don’t disappear……
We are discovering you don’t just grieve the DEATH of a person. You grieve the few (or many) losses that you felt and experienced in that individual relationship….THROUGHOUT that entire relationship.
But, we are all open. Open to growth and healing where needed…. all while honoring and missing our loved one.
P.S. Gotta tell you, Loren would be thrilled knowing the result off his death did not create strife and division. Instead, it has entwined our lives in a continuation of increasing beautiful ways.
Sometimes it’s completely unavoidable. That is, the random intense sense of loss that can slam me.
casual friends, of different religions, have said to me.
doing it all – and for those of you who knew him, you know that those tears would have been running down his face. 
read, “Loren”, right next to our picture. 
