A Trip to the Bookstore

Dear Lucy,

Yesterday after reading a friend's blog I set off to the book store to find the two books she had recommended to those with a creative bent.

The books were in the self-help section, and while trying to get me to check out a self-help section is like trying to get a dentalphobe to the office for a root-canal, I went. I didn't find the books I was looking for (they were sold out), but I did pass a section on, Death, Dying, and Grief.

I ignored it the first time around, and then finally figured, "what the heck, I'll see what the latest psychobabble on the topics is".

Most of the books were pretty much that. Lots of blah, blah, about the stages of grief and what to expect. Too many words for me.

Then I hit upon this one: Living When a Loved One has Died, by Earl A. Grollman. It was poetry.

Really. It was pages of poetry that so touched me I nearly started crying in the store. Here is the first one that hit home:

"Your loved one has died.
You are unprepared.
The death has struck
like a tidal wave.
You are cut loose from your
moorings.
You are all but drowning in the
sea of your private sorrow.
The person who has
been part of
your life is gone forever.
It is final, irrevocable.
Part of you has died."

Wow. That's it! That is exactly how I feel and I have been struggling to put it in words for months. Part of me has died and I feel completely cut loose from my moorings.

Lost. Vulnerable. The one and only person on this dustball we call earth who knew me inside and out--and still loved me!--is gone forever and poof, just like that, my life is completely upside down. I don't know who I am anymore, I don't know where I am going, and the person I had the most history with is not around to share that with and help me find my way.

And the worst part is that no one can really reach into that place in me and comfort it. They can offer solace, friendship, love, but it won't reach that place.

I think that's why so many people have a hard time dealing with someone who is grieving. There just aren't any words to say, not enough hugs to give, that can reach the person where she needs to be reached. I think only God can do that.

Unfortunately for me, I am not on good speaking terms with God right now even though I see His work in my life every day. Maybe that's the best I can do right now--acknowledge the work of God in my life every day.

But then, that's the best any of us can do.

--Kathy