how do you handle grief?
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My brother committed suicide +-5 years ago. My mother till this day cries on his birthday and over Christmas (the time he did it).
We all dealt with it differently. I internalize mine but for other people they need to cry and talk about it.
Sometimes we just need to speak to somebody about it. My mother and wife chat about it when my mother gets sad.
She also turned her attention to her grandchildren and try to keep her busy with other things. They say that nobody can understand the grief of a mother
We all dealt with it differently. I internalize mine but for other people they need to cry and talk about it.
Sometimes we just need to speak to somebody about it. My mother and wife chat about it when my mother gets sad.
She also turned her attention to her grandchildren and try to keep her busy with other things. They say that nobody can understand the grief of a mother
My brother committed suicide +-5 years ago. My mother till this day cries on his birthday and over Christmas (the time he did it).
We all dealt with it differently. I internalize mine but for other people they need to cry and talk about it.
Sometimes we just need to speak to somebody about it. My mother and wife chat about it when my mother gets sad.
She also turned her attention to her grandchildren and try to keep her busy with other things. They say that nobody can understand the grief of a mother
We all dealt with it differently. I internalize mine but for other people they need to cry and talk about it.
Sometimes we just need to speak to somebody about it. My mother and wife chat about it when my mother gets sad.
She also turned her attention to her grandchildren and try to keep her busy with other things. They say that nobody can understand the grief of a mother
i remember you mentioned he was your twin? that's gotta be rough.
i think we experience losses differently according to the relationship we had with the one we lost. so twin brother is way up there, especially considering the way in which you lost him.
i'm going to go with 'losing a child' is dreadful, though. (i know that one.)
you and your mom hug each other for me, yeah? and thanks, D.
No not my twin he was older than me.
My mother always say that he was her "sad child". The one she consistently worried about. Always on the wrong path doing something he is not suppose to.
In the end he fell into drugs and that was the beginning of the end
he was older than me. My mother always say that he was her "sad child". The one she consistently worried about. Always on the wrong path doing something he is not suppose to.
In the end he fell into drugs and that was the beginning of the end
i'm flying to SA to hug everybody !!
does your mum know the Lord?
She does, but in an old fashioned kind of way (does that even make sense? ). The Afrikaner is a conservative nation and even in praising God we always had to restrain ourselves.
There is a new generation praising and worshipping the Lord, now it is important to find the line between respect and no respect for God.
). The Afrikaner is a conservative nation and even in praising God we always had to restrain ourselves. There is a new generation praising and worshipping the Lord, now it is important to find the line between respect and no respect for God.
R
My brother committed suicide +-5 years ago. My mother till this day cries on his birthday and over Christmas (the time he did it).
We all dealt with it differently. I internalize mine but for other people they need to cry and talk about it.
Sometimes we just need to speak to somebody about it. My mother and wife chat about it when my mother gets sad.
She also turned her attention to her grandchildren and try to keep her busy with other things. They say that nobody can understand the grief of a mother
We all dealt with it differently. I internalize mine but for other people they need to cry and talk about it.
Sometimes we just need to speak to somebody about it. My mother and wife chat about it when my mother gets sad.
She also turned her attention to her grandchildren and try to keep her busy with other things. They say that nobody can understand the grief of a mother
Just recently, an autistic kid left his home in the middle of the night and found his way to the interstate and was hit by a car and was killed.
It's not fair for a parent to lose a child, but God can use your suffering to love and hold on to you and make you vulnerable so that you give everything to him
S
God could use various ways to take us out of the grief. for me these days,I experienced something hard, it seemed that praying and bible didn't work a lot, but my church sister chatted to me ,and another friend had lunch with me today, we also had some interesting courses together, gradually, my mind was immersed in the intellectural atmosphere. After class, I begin to Praise God.
Now,sister, Give you a hug
Now,sister, Give you a hug
D
I find death often leads me to different kinds of grieving.
I found out my grandfather died at a dear aunt's funeral. (The aunt I got my middle name from, so she was very much a part of my life.) I think I did what most kids do -- somewhere between didn't want to get it and not knowing how to get it.
For Mom? That I was a new believer might have tipped the scales there. Or Mom making me repromise to raise my little brother up in the Catholic Church. But I remember doing everything I could to replace her, thinking that's what I was supposed to do. I became Mom as much as possible for my little brother, and became housewife for Dad. Can't say that worked well, considering two years later I had to face college.
Gram dying was my first adult grief. Gram was a bit like me -- she'd rather garden and do needlecrafts then silly stuff like cooking food. And yet, the oddest thing happened. I made sweetbreads! Lots of them! So many, I took some to work, handed some to neighbors and friends, and had all the fill we could manage. Something good came out of that. It was my first foray into dessert making, and I haven't stopped yet. (Making blueberry bread as I write this. lol) Now gardening, needlecrafts, (even the types she didn't do), and baking are sweet memories of her. I can almost hear her say to me, "Heavens, Lynn! What are you doing in the kitchen?" lol
But those are the things I prefer remembering about how "well" I took grief. I might even be able to fool you into believing I'm good at it. Then again, you remember seeing me in grief at the end of 2015 through half of 2016, so you already know... I don't take it well.
I don't think there is a take-it-well. I think it's like going through a swamp with an 80 pound backpack because you have to. Not because you want to. It's messy, it's annoying, it's frustrating, lots of tears, lots of "Why her/him, God?" lots of "why me, God," and sooner or later, you start noticing there is a tree up ahead. And you're in the forest before you even noticed you got out of the swamp. You get to keep the backpack, but somewhere along the way, you even get around to noticing that God lightened it for you.
And somewhere in that forest, you remember something of your mom that doesn't hurt. It's a good memory. You might even catch yourself laughing, and then feeling guilty for laughing. Don't. I'm guessing you got your sense of humor from her, so you carry something of her. And that's what's left in the backpack. Carried, fond memories of life before the swamp, and how "easy" that swamp was.
Strange thing about grief. I think it's a lot like giving birth. God has to be mighty kind to mothers in fading the memory of the pain of childbirth, or there is no way in the world anyone has more than one child. (Or even one child.) Eventually the pain fades. It becomes a part of you. Think about it. When you think back to those visits to the hospital, how many of your memories have to do with the actual pain? And, do you remember thinking during the birth of your second child that you have no memory of exactly how much it hurt?
It's like that. You will always remember the pain. There will always be a tender spot, but it just stops being as vivid as it is now. It's already started. Today you don't hurt quite as much as you did that day two weeks ago.
You're already to the point where you aren't quite as worried about bursting into tears at inopportune times. When someone tries to console you, it isn't a guarantee the crying starts. (It might, but two weeks ago, it was guaranteed.) It's like that.
I found out my grandfather died at a dear aunt's funeral. (The aunt I got my middle name from, so she was very much a part of my life.) I think I did what most kids do -- somewhere between didn't want to get it and not knowing how to get it.
For Mom? That I was a new believer might have tipped the scales there. Or Mom making me repromise to raise my little brother up in the Catholic Church. But I remember doing everything I could to replace her, thinking that's what I was supposed to do. I became Mom as much as possible for my little brother, and became housewife for Dad. Can't say that worked well, considering two years later I had to face college.
Gram dying was my first adult grief. Gram was a bit like me -- she'd rather garden and do needlecrafts then silly stuff like cooking food. And yet, the oddest thing happened. I made sweetbreads! Lots of them! So many, I took some to work, handed some to neighbors and friends, and had all the fill we could manage. Something good came out of that. It was my first foray into dessert making, and I haven't stopped yet. (Making blueberry bread as I write this. lol) Now gardening, needlecrafts, (even the types she didn't do), and baking are sweet memories of her. I can almost hear her say to me, "Heavens, Lynn! What are you doing in the kitchen?" lol
But those are the things I prefer remembering about how "well" I took grief. I might even be able to fool you into believing I'm good at it. Then again, you remember seeing me in grief at the end of 2015 through half of 2016, so you already know... I don't take it well.
I don't think there is a take-it-well. I think it's like going through a swamp with an 80 pound backpack because you have to. Not because you want to. It's messy, it's annoying, it's frustrating, lots of tears, lots of "Why her/him, God?" lots of "why me, God," and sooner or later, you start noticing there is a tree up ahead. And you're in the forest before you even noticed you got out of the swamp. You get to keep the backpack, but somewhere along the way, you even get around to noticing that God lightened it for you.
And somewhere in that forest, you remember something of your mom that doesn't hurt. It's a good memory. You might even catch yourself laughing, and then feeling guilty for laughing. Don't. I'm guessing you got your sense of humor from her, so you carry something of her. And that's what's left in the backpack. Carried, fond memories of life before the swamp, and how "easy" that swamp was.
Strange thing about grief. I think it's a lot like giving birth. God has to be mighty kind to mothers in fading the memory of the pain of childbirth, or there is no way in the world anyone has more than one child. (Or even one child.) Eventually the pain fades. It becomes a part of you. Think about it. When you think back to those visits to the hospital, how many of your memories have to do with the actual pain? And, do you remember thinking during the birth of your second child that you have no memory of exactly how much it hurt?
It's like that. You will always remember the pain. There will always be a tender spot, but it just stops being as vivid as it is now. It's already started. Today you don't hurt quite as much as you did that day two weeks ago.
You're already to the point where you aren't quite as worried about bursting into tears at inopportune times. When someone tries to console you, it isn't a guarantee the crying starts. (It might, but two weeks ago, it was guaranteed.) It's like that.
When my best friend passed, I had a few insensitive comments. I don't think they meant any harm but it annoyed me just the same.
I was really feeling her loss one day and someone said, "She's not God and He is your best friend." Well duh, I obviously KNOW that. Needless to say I NEVER mentioned her to THAT person again.
Ever talk to someone and walk away feeling worse?
A little understanding goes a long way.
I was really feeling her loss one day and someone said, "She's not God and He is your best friend." Well duh, I obviously KNOW that. Needless to say I NEVER mentioned her to THAT person again.
Ever talk to someone and walk away feeling worse?
A little understanding goes a long way.
So true that we all process grief differently. Sorry for your loss at such a young age. I have experienced the death of my dad over 30 years ago and then 2 years ago with my mom as well as many friends over the years. I processed the grief differently each time. For sure there is a peace when we know they are with the Lord. I would encourage you to try not to withdraw from socialization and confide in safe people who will allow you to grieve. Keep the memory alive in whatever manner helps you. Live for today and trust God for His plan. He is there for you in your deepest hour of need. The book of Job is good to read for perspective and for a great example on how to deal with loss.
G
Mrs Ellie, when I wrote my post, I did not realize your mother had passed away, I am very sorry to read your mother has passed away. The first holidays will be difficult, but I echo Temporary Circumstances idea about celebrating your mother's birthday. For a while, we did things to celebrate my sister's birthday and it did help. God bless you very much, you and your family are in my prayers.
When my father passed away in 2011, a number of things got me through. The most important was knowing he knew Christ for the last 5 months. I knew he was with Jesus.
My sister came and helped me with the funeral, I busied myself not just planning but writing the funeral. I was taking pastoral ministries, but I also wrote the sermon, although I did not preach it. That is not a good thing to do when you are grieving. My sister did the power point, and I arranged everything else. (My church family also helped tremendously - the church, the ladies helping with the caterers, the comfort from the pastors!)
My husband lost his father in his teens, and he knew all about grieving. He was a real shoulder to cry on. My kids loved my father, and they all came to the funeral, except one who was somewhere playing hockey. Although he went out of his way on the way south, came to Edmonton and spent a few last days with my father, who was in the hospital dying in the fall. We had some great talks about my dad, and the memories the kids had.
My mom didn't want a funeral, but fortunately, my sister got it written into my father's will. It was supposed to be small, and it sort of was! She would only let the death announcement be in the paper for one day. But, various sports teams got a hold of it, the university where he was a professor sent out a notice. And the people that turned up were amazing. There was the junior high basketball team my dad coached to the provincial championship. Everyone alive on that team came, and they had a picture of the team for me. Of course, lots of his colleagues. The Grey Cup was that weekend, but he still had an honour guard of some younger players from his CFL team. There were many more! I guess grieving together was important for me.
It was touching to see the fond memories all these people had of my father. He wasn't just my father, but he had made a big impact in my community and touched lives. And in turn, I made sure the sermon touched hearts and lives, and reflected the changes in my father's life as he had turned to Christ.
It took a long time before I could really sob about the loss. I ran from it, busy with seminary, assignments, etc.
I'm not sure if any of this helps you. Just sharing what helped me in the death of the person I was close to.
My sister came and helped me with the funeral, I busied myself not just planning but writing the funeral. I was taking pastoral ministries, but I also wrote the sermon, although I did not preach it. That is not a good thing to do when you are grieving. My sister did the power point, and I arranged everything else. (My church family also helped tremendously - the church, the ladies helping with the caterers, the comfort from the pastors!)
My husband lost his father in his teens, and he knew all about grieving. He was a real shoulder to cry on. My kids loved my father, and they all came to the funeral, except one who was somewhere playing hockey. Although he went out of his way on the way south, came to Edmonton and spent a few last days with my father, who was in the hospital dying in the fall. We had some great talks about my dad, and the memories the kids had.
My mom didn't want a funeral, but fortunately, my sister got it written into my father's will. It was supposed to be small, and it sort of was! She would only let the death announcement be in the paper for one day. But, various sports teams got a hold of it, the university where he was a professor sent out a notice. And the people that turned up were amazing. There was the junior high basketball team my dad coached to the provincial championship. Everyone alive on that team came, and they had a picture of the team for me. Of course, lots of his colleagues. The Grey Cup was that weekend, but he still had an honour guard of some younger players from his CFL team. There were many more! I guess grieving together was important for me.
It was touching to see the fond memories all these people had of my father. He wasn't just my father, but he had made a big impact in my community and touched lives. And in turn, I made sure the sermon touched hearts and lives, and reflected the changes in my father's life as he had turned to Christ.
It took a long time before I could really sob about the loss. I ran from it, busy with seminary, assignments, etc.
I'm not sure if any of this helps you. Just sharing what helped me in the death of the person I was close to.