Articles on Grief and Healing
The Invisible Cloak -- By Linda Tippett
Linda Tippett, who is a published author of articles,
plays, and one book,
lives in Toledo, Ohio, where she and her husband, Jim, lived for
fifty
years. They were able to celebrate 50 years of marriage
just before his
death in early October of 2000. Linda is also a staff writer for
a local
monthly aimed at an audience 55 and over - Mature Living
Magazine.
She is the mother of four and grandmother of three.
I
didnt expect it. Not now. Not when I had
rationally and intellectually told myself over and over that my
real grieving had taken place when I knew he would not get
better. Wasnt that when my actual journey of
widowhood had begun before death, when I began losing my
companion little by little? And hadnt God answered my
prayers and taken him gently and quickly, surrounded by family
love?
So why, after rather proudly keeping my emotional
equilibrium for several months, did I suddenly burst into tears
upon entering the hospital where he and I had spent so much time?
I was going to visit a friend, but I never even made it to the
elevators. I stumbled back to the car to sit in shaken
wonder that such emotion had suddenly bubbled out.
Apparently grief can sometimes be like an invisible cloak
that you may unwittingly wear. It can cover from head to
toe, keeping emotion hidden in its folds. Nor can anyone
else see it. I heard over and over again, My, you seem to
be doing so well! And I began to believe it as my
unconscious act of normalcy fooled everyone, even me.
Then that day my cloak fell open. Its lurking emotions
finally burst through to envelop me with feelings so intense that
I literally felt raw inside. My outpouring of tears lasted
well beyond the meager supply of tissues I had in my purse. More
than one passerby looked my way, but left me to my obvious grief.
Finally my sobs subsided into hiccups, and I began the process of
practicality
starting the car, finding my way out of the
parking garage, paying the tickets, and then driving home through
rainy streets to my empty house.
Strangely the house had never seemed emptier, starting the cycle
of tears again, until all I could do was lie down on my
much-too-big bed and soak the pillowcase through.
Underlying all this outburst was still the element of
surprise. I was sure I hadnt cloaked my grief.
Because concerned family and friends thought I should, I had read
booklets on the grief process and had even attended a grief
support group several times. But all the time I
thought
I dont need this. Im fine.
Sure, Im lonely, but Im handling it.
I suspect now that any grief counselor would recognize this as a
classic case of unwitting grief denial and wouldnt have
been at all surprised at my experience.
Afterwards, when I was calmer, I returned to the literature I had
shoved back on a shelf, and read again the wise words that now
held a great deal more meaning for me.
Grief is painful. Grief is unpredictable. Grief
involves surprises. The way out of grief is through it.
All this advice I had first skimmed over with a yeah, yeah,
yeah attitude. Convinced that I had absorbed my loss
in a dignified and admirable way, I had dismissed the wisdom of
experts.
But with the sudden lifting of my invisible cloak, I had finally
experienced the gritty pain of grief, but thought I must find a
way around it. However, to get to the other side of it, I
had to walk through the door that opens on acceptance of a new
path. I had hidden grief from myself, wrapping the pain so
tightly as to squeeze the life from it, trying to bypass that
door.
Yes, it was unpredictable and surprising, but now I know
its inevitable. Its just a matter of
when. Sooner or later I will have to gird myself for the
roller coaster ride that often characterizes the healthy grief
process.
I didnt understand that it is normal to fall apart even
months after the funeral, or find Christmas, birthdays,
anniversaries, or just a year ago today passages
difficult. I was convinced that keeping it all cloaked was
the brave thing to do. It was certainly easier on
family and friends.
But I learned that this is MY grief and how I handle it has
nothing to do with anyone else. Many people do not give
others the freedom to grieve in a way that is right for them, but
I am unique. My situation and lost relationship are unique,
and I must surrender to the process in my own way.
Theres an ancient Warrior Song that says,
There is meaning only in the struggle. Triumph or
defeat is in the hands of God. So let us continue the
struggle. Its a mandate, indeed, as I now know
what battles need to be fought to light up my forward path and
throw off the invisible cloak.
[home] [comments] [column] [discussions page] [book excerpts] [honor page]