Last week in our identity class, we talked about grief. The topic was very fresh and real because of what I was going through the last week of October. I started writing a post, but couldn’t finish it until I had time to process some things.
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Last week was a difficult one, to say the least. I felt off on Monday. Normally I am very excited to start the week off with our Monday Morning Worship. But I just was not into it. I felt crabby, but didn’t know why.
The next morning I woke up, and my alarm flashed the date. October 27, 2015.
And that’s when it hit me. My grandma passed away three years ago on this date. But it was different this year.
Like slamming face first into a brick wall.
It hurt, and all I wanted to do was stay in bed and hide away under all my comfy blankets. However, I knew that I had to go to the office and take part in my track and apprenticeship. So I prepared for the day. I also knew I had to keep a professional attitude for the day, which would not be easy.
Frustration with outside things came easy. And then the fact that I was getting frustrated by people and things around me, made me frustrated with myself. Once again crawling back inside my head and living there.
Plus, there were little things that would set me off to tears. Like seeing a room spray in the bathroom and thinking it was a body spray. I remembered a time I was shopping with my grandma, and we passed by a stand of room sprays. She thought they were perfumes, so she sprayed herself with it. It was funny at the time. But, remembering it this day brought sadness.
I got through the day with lots of deep breaths, tissues to wipe my eyes, and doing my best to focus on the tasks on hand, not the memories of my grandma.
I made it through the day. Barely.
When I got home I ran up to my room, put on comfy clothes, and laid on my bed. I covered myself with blankets and put in my headphones so I could hide away and block the world out. And then the floodgates opened. A pool of tears soaked my pillow.
When I had cried out all that I could (or so I thought), I went down to get some food. My housemate was baking cookies. Another reminder of my grandma – she was always baking. I couldn’t hold it in, and the tears came again.
I knew I had to tell my housemates about why my face was all blotchy and red, even though I didn’t really want to.
But the effect was different than I thought. Talking about it, and sharing some of my memories actually helped with my grief process.
And then a few days later, I read something that Shane Claiborne had posted on facebook. It was about how Halloween was actually called All Saint’s Day.
Rather than glorifying death, Halloween is a time we can celebrate life, remembering the lives of our loved ones and the heroes of the faith. The dead can inspire the living to truly live.
While we don’t need more gore and blood, there is something sweet about being able to laugh at death and fear, something Halloween gives us permission to do. After all, we know the dead can rise again and death has lost its sting.
It was a wonderful reminder. That you can choose to remember a loved one’s death, and dwell in the sadness of them being gone. Or you can choose to remember their life, and focus on all the good things they did and taught you in their lifetime.
So, I am choosing to remember the amazing life that my grandma lived, and all the great things she instilled into my life. It doesn’t mean that the sadness is completely gone. But it means that when the sadness comes up, I can feel it for a moment, and then lay it at the feet of the Father. And once I have given it to Him, I can ask for Him to remind me of another beautiful memory of my grandma.
One of the greatest things is that my grandma was a fighter, and I know I’ve got that fighter in me too! She inspires me to grow stronger and deeper. I am fighting for myself, and the people and things that I believe in.
