Waves of Grief

[Froggie4635]

I found this on another website, posted as a link.  But I typed it up, so that I could share it. It is very profound.

Someone on a website wrote the following heartfelt pleas online:

“My friend just died.  I don’t know what to do.”                   

A lot of people responded.  Then there’s one old guy’s incredible comment that stood out from the rest that might change the way we approach life and death:

“I wish I could say you get used to people dying. I never did. I don’t want to. It tears a whole through me whenever somebody I love dies, no matter the circumstances.  But I don’t want it to “not matter”.  I don’t want it to be something just passes.  My scars are a testament to the love and the relationship that I had for and with that person. And it the scar is deep, so was the love.  So be it.  Scars are a testament to life.  Scars are a testament that I can love deeply and live deeply and be cut, or even gouged, and that I can heal and continue to live and continue to love.  And the scar tissue is stronger than the original flesh ever was.  Scars are a testament to life.  Scars are only ugly to people who can’t see.

“As for grief, you’ll find it comes in waves.  When the ship is first wrecked, you’re drowning, with wreckage all around you.  Everything floating around you reminds you of the beauty and the magnificence of the ship that was, and is no more.  And all you can do is float.  You find some piece of the wreckage and you hang on for a while.  Maybe it’s some physical thing.  Maybe it’s a happy memory or a photograph.  Maybe it’s a person who is also floating.  For a while, all you can do is float.  Stay alive.

“In the beginning, the waves are 100 feet tall and crash over you without mercy.  They come 10 seconds apart and don’t even give you the time to catch your breath.  All you can do is hang on and float.  After a while, maybe weeks, maybe months, you’ll find the waves are still 100 feet tall, but they come further apart.  When they come, they still rash all over you and wipe you out.  But in between, you can breathe, you can function.  You never know what’s going to trigger the grief.  It might be a song, a picture, a street intersection, the smell of a cup of coffee.  It can be just about anything…and the wave comes crashing.  But in between waves, there is life.

“Somewhere, down the line, and it’s different for everybody, you find that he waves are only 80 feet tall; or 50 feet tall.  And while they still come, they come further apart.  You can see them coming.  An anniversary, a birthday, or Christmas, or landing at O’Hare.  You can see it coming, for the most part, and prepare yourself.  And it washes over you; you know that somehow you will, again, come out the other side.  Soaking wet, sputtering, still hanging on to some tiny piece of the wreckage, but you’ll come out.

“Take it from an old guy.  The waves never stop coming, and somehow you don’t really want them to.  But you learn that you’ll survive them too.  If you’re lucky, you’ll have lots of scars from lots of loves; and lots of shipwrecks.”

[enna]

Thank you, Maryann, for this post. It is very good. It speaks to what we are learning about our own grief. It's much like the rollercoaster rides we all have experienced. 

Anne

[LadyCarrie]

Thank you, Maryann, for Hope.  Thank you for the elderly gentleman's well-expressed comment.  

Carrie

[kayc]

It is so true...it is why I still grieve the loss of George ten years later and why there is a George shaped hole in my heart forever.

[scba]

I find this piece very interesting. I never felt the waves, my pain is felt as if someone is hitting me on my back and something pulls me down, and I'm unable to get up. In the first week I dreamed I was walking on a dessert of rocks, the sun was very bright, and I passed by a war-destroyed city. Since then I picture myself in a dessert, and my former life destroyed as the city. 

Thanks for the post

[kevin]

I found this article one of the best written in regards to capturing how my grief "bursts" appear.........To understand how they can be described as waves seems so appropriate and true......I don't think I will ever get over this hurt but will be able to endure it over time. Still cleaning stuff up and giving away cloths.......found gift certificate today(Golf Shop)..100ft wave.........

 

[kayc]

Sometimes it's a Tsunami...the waves come in a little smaller with time... 

You're right, grief doesn't go away, but we do get more accustomed to it and it doesn't stay at the same level of intensity forever, thank God!  We wouldn't be able to endure it if it did.