Good Question

Since the 1930s, scientists have studied stress and its effects on people. In 1967, two psychiatrists from the University of Washington, Thomas Holmes and Richard Rahe, developed a tool called the Holmes and Rahe Stress Scale, which measures 43 life events indicating a stress level related to health issues. The number one life event that contains the highest score is the death of a spouse. It comes as no surprise to those of us who know what it’s like to sit in the front row of our husband’s memorial service.

Loss of a spouse is the most life-changing experience we will have and affects every aspect of our lives. With our brains activated by this trauma, our bodies are altered as well. With so many emotions to process and a myriad of things to manage in the first weeks and months, we wonder if we will stay here forever.

Will I make it? Is there life after this? Will life ever be good again?

Good questions form in our minds, and hope is on hold while we mourn and feel our pain.

In my first year after my husband suddenly died, I found myself asking these questions amidst the debris. It was like walking through dense fog. I couldn’t see anything except what was right in front of me.  It was unfamiliar, strange, and daunting. Over time, as the fog began to lift, I saw others on the path in front of me and beside me.

In the midst of my most painful days, my relationship with God deepened. I poured over the Psalms, lamenting and crying, finding hope that God’s promises were true, and God’s comfort was a reality.

It’s been eight years since my husband died. Where I started is not where I stayed. The questions I asked, I can answer now: 

Yes, there is life after loss. Yes, life can be good again. Our lives are different. We are different. Where we are is not where we stay.

‘‘Grateful Yet Grieving’’

FREE ebook by Pam Luschei | Click HERE To Download

Equipped for Grief

Within the first six months after my husband died, I developed a friendship with Caye. While sitting in the back of the church during her husband’s memorial, I identified deeply with her grief. A few weeks later, we had dinner, and a bond was forged out of our loss. We began meeting regularly for walks and meals.  Even after she remarried a few years ago, Caye and I continue to get together for a cup of delicious Costa Rican coffee and a walk.

Recently, she shared a perspective I valued and asked for permission to share. “As I was reflecting on the devastation that comes after the loss of a happy marriage, I had a thought: it is the love, the shaping, the growth, the stability, the bedrock of trust that one experiences in a happy marriage that allows and facilitates one in navigating the depths of grief. A loving marriage actually equips one to live and eventually thrive beyond the loss of one’s spouse. It’s the same principle as a stable, loving family equipping its children to thrive in the larger world beyond family. I simply never thought about how a stable, happy marriage actually equipped me to manage the depths of early grief and to create a new life beyond it.”

As I read and reread Caye’s words, I sensed the depth of where the grief comes from; a secure, loving, trusting relationship forms the foundation of how we grieve. In one sense, it seems completely contrary. Our spouse is no longer here, and the marriage has come to an end. Yet, from the goodness and gift of our marriage comes this strange space. As Caye says, “the bedrock of trust” allows us to move through the process of grieving, knowing our grief is a continuation of our love. Our grief grows and blooms as we move into a different life, grateful for what we had and for what remains.

‘‘Grateful Yet Grieving’’

FREE ebook by Pam Luschei | Click HERE To Download