My Confession

Yesterday we celebrated Christmas for the fifth time without my mom.  While this Christmas was one of the best since she passed away, I cannot say that about the previous four.  In fact, for me, the last month or so has been the best month since she was taken from us.  The previous 59 or so months, well that is the subject of this blog.  Plain and simple, I did not handle her death very well.  In fact, I didn't handle it at all.  At the risk of ridicule, criticism and scorn, I will give a summary of my story.  If just one single person is encouraged or helped by it, then my public confession is totally worth it.

My mother was taken suddenly.  We had all of three hours to "prepare" for her death.  When she was wheeled into surgery to further explore what was going on in her body, we had no idea that we would never be able to communicate with her again, or that she would be dead in a few hours.

Far too soon, the uplifting visits and encouraging phone calls slow down and eventually stop.  Reality sets in and then the grieving process begins.  The problem is, just what is that process?  How does it start and when does it end?  How do you handle Christmas now when every December 19th is a memory of her passing?  Being a husband, father, son, brother and all the other titles bring on a sense of responsibility.  Who has time to grieve when you are the provider for your family?  I'm very involved in ministry in my church, so I'm supposed to be helping others.  I had a job, and later, a small business to run.  I can't take time to grieve, there is so much that needs to get done.

Some people choose alcohol or drugs to drown their sorrows.  Others use retail therapy or other remedies to deal with the grief.  I chose "busyness".  I stayed busy to avoid feeling the pain.  I stayed busy to numb the pain that I did feel.  I stayed busy to avoid reality.  The ones who knew me best knew that I wasn't doing very well, but to everyone else, I was doing just great!  I was still posting encouraging messages on Facebook and Twitter, still had a smile on my face, but inside I was broken and depression began to set in.  It was not the, "can't get out of bed" type of depression, but what I later learned may have been "seasonal depression".  

On and on I fought this battle in my life as I tried to navigate through this thing called grieving.  Ironically as I was helping out at a funeral, I met an individual and we began to discuss death and grieving.  It turned out that this person was a therapist.  She read me like a book and began to describe exactly what I was going through, even though I had not given her all the details.  To make a long story short, the very thing I was trying to avoid doing was exactly what I needed to do in order to heal.

You see, while I had cried a bit and felt sadness and grief, but I never really let myself get to a place where I could really be broken and open myself up to really grieve.  I never wanted to admit that my life was shattered at the moment and I was nowhere near as strong as I thought I was.  I could not "break down"; I had to be strong for my kids and everyone else.  The problem was, while I was trying to be strong for everyone else, I was breaking down and almost to the point of melting down myself.

I realized that the very core of my problem was pride.  I wasn't trusting God to be the comforter that He promised He would be.  I needed to control the situation.  I had to be strong.  I had to carry on.  How many times had I quoted the Bible verse that says "when I am weak, then He is strong" and yet, here I was, avoiding the position where I could get the most help; a position of weakness!

So, just over a month ago, at the advice of this individual (who it felt like was an angel sent from God), I went away for a day by myself and allowed myself to break down and be weak.  I gave myself time to fall apart, cry, and think about the good times and the bad times.  I went to that "dark place" of despair and grief.  This was my idea, but I "played a movie" in my head of every memory I could remember of her and then I bawled for awhile and laughed thinking of the good times.  I admitted to myself that I was messed up and broken and opened the door for God to really bring a peace and comfort that is beyond any human understanding. 

Some will be critical and say well if you trust God, well then why did you need the advice of a therapist?  I believe that God uses people to enter our lives and bring practical advice, that when used in conjunction with God's healing power can be a powerful combination.  In following her advice to allow myself to be weak, I allowed myself to be in a position where God could bring the peace that I so desperately needed.  So, for the first time in a long time, Thanksgiving and Christmas were happy moments in my life. I feel as though I have my life back and it feels so good!

We are told that "men don't cry".  People will tell you that you need to be strong.  But if it has been a week, a year, ten years or even longer and you are struggling with the death of a loved one, I hope my confession will help you.  Sure, to a certain extent we need to be strong, but please, don't let pride or fear of what other may think get in your way.  Let yourself be weak and let God be the comforter in your life that he was in mine.

Thanks for reading and PLEASE share this with anyone who may be struggling in dealing with the death of a loved one.

JP