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A Week Later

A week has passed since Dawn’s death. I have busied myself around the house this week, started to deal with some of the tasks that have to be done, and gathered for dinner with members of Kent Presbytery to welcome the Moderator Mardi Tindal. I have slept well but I do not feel I have the energy for doing much. I wouldn’t say I am depressed but I feel down and alone. It is not a feeling that can simply be filled by the presence of others; although I long for company and felt cared for by being with friends at the dinner last night, I still welcome the peace of solitude. I think I am understanding the solitude that Henri Nouwen describes as being alone but not being lonely. I guess I am realizing that I did not know how much the loss of a loved one can be so profound. However, lest you may be overly concerned about my well-being, I would assure you that I am OK. These comments are offered as reflections on my journey of grief.

Although I have been doing the housework now for a couple of years, simple things like doing the laundry and preparing a meal seem to be without purpose because I am not doing them for someone. Even when Dawn was not eating much, she shared the meal time with me. She held one end of the sheets when I need help to fold them. Just the week before she went into hospital, she was adding things to the shopping list for the Thanksgiving meal.

In our faith, we are reminded that we are not alone. God is with us. These are words that are meant to comfort – and in the midst of the loss they take on new meaning. The words of comfort that are most real are those from people who have shared such loss. In the empathy of sharing our loss, we are touched by God’s love in the Christ who shares our loss.

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Response to “Give Grief a Chance” by Kenneth Bagnell, UC Observer

This article on current attitudes and practices of grief is
certainly relevant.

Having just had a graveside service today for a family whose
mother had died at 92, I was told that she did not want anything but the family
felt that they needed to say goodbye.
So, as we stood by the grave for the cremated ashes, I led them in
prayers and scripture readings with a short reflection on God’s reconciling
love in response to the emotions of anger, regret and guilt mingled with the
gratitude for happy memories of her life.

It seems when the person lives a long life and does not have
many surviving friends, families think the formal funeral is not
necessary. But I remind them that the
funeral is for the survivors, not the deceased.

When my mother died at 92, she did not have friends of her
age still living, but we had many of our friends, some of whom traveled some
distance to be with us, even though they did not know my mother. It was this support that helped me to
grieve. The funeral was on Saturday and
the burial was to be in another city on Monday.
I was associate minister and attended the worship service on Sunday
because I wanted to be with people who were able to offer ongoing pastoral
support.

I believe his comment that “There’s probably never been
a time in United Church history when strong pastoral care was more needed”
is absolutely true. It seems to be the part of ministry that has been most
ignored in the age of easy access by technology, but pastoral care has been the
foundation of the church in my experience of growing up in the mid 20th
century. My own ministry of pastoral care to those who are bereaved has been
acknowledged as a significant service of the church. Pastoral care to the grieving, whether for a
loss of loved one in death, loss of a job or family breakup, is the aspect of
ministry where the church can relate to the spiritual life of people, whether
they are active worshippers or not.

Thanks to Kenneth Bagnell for this article.