Last year at this time, our family was experiencing it’s first Christmas without my brother. I say experiencing, because although we celebrated the coming of Christ, the celebration, in many ways, was painful, lonely, and incomplete. My niece and nephew dreaded that first Christmas without their dad. We all dreaded that first Christmas without the phone call — the one where my brother asked how we were and told us that he loved us.
There are many people who tell you that grief gets easier with time. Forgive me if I doubt their words.
I’ve been blessed to have a friend who was a chaplain for a hospice organization. She taught me some things about grief and loss, and I’d like to share a few of them with you. I am not an expert and anything I share that is incorrect is entirely my responsibility and my lack of understanding. I would ask your forgiveness.
Did you know that grief is a physical, emotional, and spiritual process? It impacts us in ways we do not expect and often, in ways we do not understand. There is something called a “grief burst.” A grief burst occurs when our emotions take control and suddenly, seemingly without warning, we burst into tears caused by an overwhelming sense of grief. They are not easily explained to those around us and can, in fact, be quite embarrassing. Personally, I still experience them — rarely. Now they are tied to a memory or an event.
Grief is a personal journey. Some people seem to move through it almost unscathed. Others seem to be stuck in the midst of it, never able to move forward. My friend taught me that grief continues to effect the body, spirit, and mind for at least two years. If you are grieving several losses at once, the time is extended significantly.
As pastors, we’ve always told those who were grieving something that we heard somewhere — sadly, I don’t recall the source. We’ve told them to be prepared for that year of firsts: first birthday without that special loved one, holidays, routines, phone calls, gifts, and any event that holds special significance because of the presence of the person who was lost. Then, we would say something like, “The first year will be hard — you are prepared for that. But be prepared for the second year to be harder in its own way. You see, the first is difficult because it IS the first time you’ve navigated these events without that special person. The second year — and all of the years afterward will remind you that this is a permanent situation. Be prepared for that renewed grief. It will be different, but it will be there.”
I’ve discovered this Christmas season that we were right. The second year, in it’s own way, is harder than the first.
I wonder how God felt when He first sent Jesus to earth. He sent Him with a purpose, but even so, they were separated. Their separation was not just for a year or two — it was for thirty plus years. They still communicated and their relationship was different than mine with my brother. Even so, as a loving Father, He would miss His Son.
So this Christmas, as I’m once again missing my big brother, I know that God understands. He has experienced my sense of loss — my grief. As I walk through these days of great joy, yet tremendous loss, I am assured and comforted by the fact that He is with me. He’s holding me and making these moments bearable.
I still ask Jesus to hug my brother for me; I probably always will.
Many of my friends have experienced loss in the past few years. My thoughts and prayers are with you. I’m not sure what number of Christmases you’ve celebrated without your loved one, but I know that God will be with you — just as He is with me and mine on this, our Second Christmas.
Merry Christmas!
Laughing - Loving - Praying 