By Brenda Cannon Henley
Continuing the thought of learning to be grateful for grief may seem unusual to some of our readers, but to me, and to many others based on the number of communications I have received, I want to round out some of my personal lessons. I perhaps need to add that I have lost people in my life beginning with my precious Mama Cole who was instrumental in rearing me, uncles that I adored, and childhood friends and classmates. I later lost my stepdad and my mom, but I had never darkened the door of a mate’s loss. I had no idea what it meant to bury a husband or a wife and I fear I have not been very kind to those who have borne this type of loss. I vow to do better in the future about this matter.

I am learning that grief takes no vacation or break. It comes in waves when least expected and for no apparent reason. The least little thing can set it off and nothing can prepare the heart for the onslaught. One example I have shared happened in my local grocery store. I had handled all of the big things concerning my husband’s death. I had planned the visitations, the services, the music, the funeral brochure, the video of his life, and I paid the bills, wrote the thank you notes, and greeted our guests. But the ordinary task of buying groceries brought on a new wave of complete and total discomposure.

While Ted had been so ill with cancer, he had been limited as to what he could or could not eat. As I filled my cart that busy Saturday afternoon, I looked at a shelf of items and saw things that I had been buying for him. I was overcome with grief, and I am a strong person. I tried to compose myself, but it wasn’t working. I pushed my half-filled cart toward an employee I know well, and hurriedly left the store. I sat in my car and sobbed for several minutes and made my way home. I cried until I could cry no longer. As I cried, I remembered so many things. Foods I had cooked that Ted loved, special meals for birthdays or anniversaries, the restaurants we had visited for me to write a story or food review, parties, and guests that we invited into our home to eat with us. It seemed as if so many of our activities centered on food and for me, I thought my culinary career had come to a screeching halt.

Another day I reached a point of hostility or anger. I happened to be filing some photographs and I looked at a particularly good picture of Ted and I felt angry inside and I remember thinking, “Why did you die? Why did you go and leave me down here alone? We had so many more plans. This is so unfair. I wanted you to stay with me. We had so much more good life to live.” In my reading and counseling, I have learned that this, too, as extreme as it may seem, is quite normal, and healthy.

One other area I have been schooled in lately is learning to talk to the children in our family about death and Ted’s leaving us. We have several teens in our family and all of them loved Papa Ted. This entire experience was very hard for each of them, but in so many different ways. Our beautiful granddaughter, Callie Grace expresses her grief by continuing to write text messages and emails to her beloved Papa Ted. She sends him the funny photos they so often exchanged. Brendan, another grandson with a loving spirit, asked me confidentially if I minded if he had Papa Ted’s driver’s license. He said ever so seriously, “I want something of his that he had with him all of the time and something that has his current photo on it, and I thought of the driver’s license.” I saw that Brendan got what he wanted and I thought it was a well thought out request. It is permissible to grieve together, to share, to partner in this new set of feelings. It helps to know each of us is not alone in our sorrow.

This next thought has been a big hurdle for me personally with the happy holidays coming up in the next few days. Our Ted loved the holidays. He was big on decorating and bigger on presents for everyone. He loved shopping far better than I and he had ideas that were good for each person in our family. As the calendar showed the holidays approaching, I wanted to withdraw more and more. I did not want to be around other people having fun with their person. I decided that I would go away on a trip so that I would not have to face the days we had shared in years past. I was encouraged not to act on my thoughts, but to plan small things or be with people that understood. It is not healthy to isolate ourselves from those that love us.

I followed one more suggestion that has helped me. My friend, Cindy Srader, is very intelligent and she had rescued a pitiful little dog that had been badly mistreated much to her husband Jim’s misgivings. Jim knew Cindy well and knew that if she saw the injured dog, not only would she want it, but she would take it to the best vet in town and get it fixed up. She did just that and a week later she thought the dog looked like it was doing well and gaining weight. She took it back to the vet and found the dog was about to give birth to four or five puppies. Jim just rolled his eyes.

Cindy babied that mother dog, helped deliver five darling little puppies, and then began to place them in the homes she felt needed them most. Yep, you got it. I was given Eli, the cutest little black dog you’ve ever seen. Cindy thought at first that Eli was a boy (thus the name), but Eli turned out to be a girl. I simply said I was being modern and doing the gender switch thing and keeping Eli. I love that little puppy and you know what, she loves me, too. She cuddles, she minds (well, sort of), and she has brought me much joy. Perhaps if your heart is broken and you are hurting and sad, a pet might help.

However you find to work through your grief, please know that you are not alone. There are many of us out there doing the same thing – but, in our own way. And, Jesus knows and cares about each of us. Happy Holidays.

(published 12/2/2014)

Brenda Cannon Henley can be reached at (409) 781-8788, at
[email protected], or by using the contact form below.

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