Good morning…
“I really don’t want 2020 to end,” she said quietly as we talked in her garage, protected from the drizzly rain. “2020 will always be the last year my husband was alive.” Her deep sorrow is not alone. For many of us, 2020 is the last year our spouse or our parent, our friend or our sibling, our child or our coworker will ever be alive on earth.
The Spirit now draws me back to a recent post entitled Grieving Without Hugs. Ron Greer, a beloved pastoral counselor in our community, wrote this about the deep grief of losing his wife Karen to cancer in 2020.
I am lonely. I am chiefly lonely for my precious wife. But during the Covid separation I am also lonely for relationship, face-to-face with those who matter to me. I need the companionship, the company, the support. I need the closeness of friendship. I need the laughter and foolishness for a change of pace, and I need them to ask me how I am doing. I need the chance to tell them, to say it out loud, to talk through my tears, and to be loved by their listening.
“How are you doing?” is such a simple, yet profoundly welcomed question for those who mourn. (And I, Sue, have learned over the years to add, “How are you doing today?” or “How are you feeling today?” since each day in the grieving process is unpredictably different.) It is an invitation to be real, to go deep, to be transparent in the presence of someone who is willing and able to accompany you on the path of your journey. It is a gift. A priceless gift of themselves at just the moment you need it most.
The work of grief is a task we each ultimately do within, each on our own. Oh, but the difference it makes in being surrounded by loving support. It renews us, it gives us the energy for the task of mourning we must then reengage. Which brings us back to our dilemma. We need to quarantine because of the pandemic at the very moment those who mourn need closeness as never before.
Clearly, those who want to be supportive play the hand they have been dealt the best they can. And I am here, from the frontlines of grief, to report that for those who really want to reach out and care, there is still the means to do it. You can make a difference in spite of the pandemic.
Despite the current limitations, we can still make a compassionate impact that matters. It makes a difference, especially during Covid, to receive a card or an email or a text or a call or an invitation to an across-the-patio cup of coffee. In this era these are our means by which we express our love, our vehicles by which we can still deliver our compassion to those who need it most.
This friend I visited with on the last day of 2020 had initially canceled our regular Thursday walk, saying simply, “It’s a mourning morning.” Yet later I texted, “I am coming by to drop off a New Year’s gift. If you are home, would you like to share a visual hug?”
“That would be nice,” she texted back.
“Okay. Expect me a little after 1:00 pm,” I responded.
We had a meaningful conversation surrounded by misty rain. She showed me work she had done in her backyard garden. We debriefed about Christmas with our immediate families. We unpacked how she felt about leaving 2020 behind, moving into the uncertain unknown of 2021. Sad. Exhausted. Numb but hopeful.
Then she unwrapped my gifts. One was a handcrafted necklace with one precious stone separated out from the heavy, overcrowded piece of jewelry I had written about in our recent post, The Ugliest Necklace. My Christmas gift to those who have supported me most closely during this pandemic period are receiving one of these one-of-a-kind necklaces. With our friendship deepened by walking and talking weekly through her grief process, she is certainly one of my “essential soul workers.”
The other gift I gave her was a cozy, inviting five-year journal, which allows just enough space each day for five jotted words over the next five years. Tracking her healing journey through grief with God will take our friendship through many important moments from this first day of 2021 and into our shared future.
Think with me now, who in your inner circle is grieving a significant loss in 2020? Prayerfully led by the Spirit, in what creative ways might you reach out to walk and talk with a loved one through the process of grief, witnessing together God’s gradual healing? Who in your world might relate most to this Bible verse today? My soul dissolves because of grief; Renew and strengthen me according to [the promises of] Your word (Psalm 119:28, AMP).
Take precious time to reach out to this loved one in a way that only you can.
…Sue…
P.S. In case you missed it, you are welcome to revisit or to share with a loved one our recent podcast on grief, Unwrapping the Gift of Grief: Grief, Pandemics, and Garbanzo Beans.
