A slow and silent leaning into a long grief

Station 6 of our 10 month 2HC cohort is focused on the theme of “Seasons of Life and Grieving Losses.” Here Fran shares her experience of grief and what it revealed to her over time.

In a time of extended grief, friends and family tenderly advised me to grieve well.

Yes, I will, I replied. Yet I did not know what grieving well looked like. I had never experienced a loss this devastating. I was in an unfamiliar place. I must have prayed about it, but I don’t recall seeking God’s answer to my question about how to grieve well.

Instead, what I do remember is a slow leaning into a long grief.

Maybe it was God’s answer. Or maybe it was the gradual uncovering of what I had learned already from other losses.

I was not just a student and God the teacher. I was also my own instructor, listening to what myself was telling me.

Now, though, I am assured that it was both God and me working it out together.

Five years later I recognize that for me grieving well involved three elements:grieving, lamenting, and silent space.

Here’s how I define these three things:

Grief is an experience of loss.

Lament is an expression of loss.

Silent space is a gift of loss. It is the interval of time after loss to be quiet and to adjust. It was a gift that kept me from premature comfort and from listening to advice on how to solve my grief problem

I didn’t read books about grief. I didn’t get counseling until much later. I didn’t ask “why?” I didn’t fight my need to be alone except with family. I accepted my need to rest. And I put offmaking decisions about my future until I knew I was ready.

After a long sinking into the sacred silent space of grief, I noticed a desire to get better acquainted with my grief.

This is when I found a photo of this sculpture. This is me, I thought. Grief has emptied me.

The sculpture pictured here is called Melancholy and was created by Albert Gyorgy. It portrays the void that grief leaves us with. It was exhibited in Geneva, Switzerland for a long period of time. I went to Lake Geneva to find this sculpture, but it had already been removed to another location. When I show people a photo of Melancholy they draw a deep breath and are quiet. It evokes deep emotion.

I asked my grieving empty self, what is it you want to tell me if I allowed you to speak?

I conceded to her. And she spoke to me.

Grief needed my silence so that she could reveal to me not only the extent of my losses but also the depths of my life. This takes time.

I’m glad I allowed silence to let my grief speak.