Excerpt
Loss Within Waves
Section 2
What to do with Waves of Grief
Water
tranquil
fluid
changing but beautiful
disappearing movement
the sounds may be rushing,
or delicate droplets
splashes when I first dip in
outside voices are muffled when I submerge myself in it
movement allows for a feeling of being carried
I am lifted upwards
prevented from sinking
as long as I let myself go, not panic, and relax into its
presence
waves from a distance are beautiful
and yet being in them can be terrifying
feeling one coming without knowing how to escape
fearfully waiting
flinching
then …
pull and push
I am being moved and washed over
recovering and finding my footing again
standing up
seeing where I landed
realizing I am okay
maybe a little scratched and weakened
but much less than I feared
now …
anticipating the next wave
but this time the fear has subsided
Grief follows its own set of rules. There is no knowing when it will come or when it will subside. It is triggered by the memories of very personal circumstances. No matter how much time has passed, no one knows what you are going through. It’s a private tidal wave of emotions. You can spend a lot of energy hiding this. It is a very personal pain that often comes unexpectedly. So we mask it from others–sometimes for very good reasons.
Grief is just like water pressure. It can build and build until it is finally released. I find that when I’m in a pool, a shower, or a bath, or when I’m caught outside on a rainy day that these are perfect times for me to allow tears of sadness or grief to flow. I have found a great release in these times.
Your path led through the sea, your way through the mighty waters, though your footprints were not seen. Psalms 77:19 (New International Version)
In my own experience with grief, I have had trouble seeing God carry or comfort me through it. As this verse suggests, I did not see his footprints alongside me. Maybe it was because I wasn’t walking on the beach while safely watching the beauty of the waves from afar. I was in the water and being tossed around by the waves. I was trying to catch my footing–if only for a moment–before another wave came along. But that new wave would dash me back into the surf. I was crashing into the shoreline and being pulled back in. When my battle with grief was at its worst, that was always when I avoided it the most. I was afraid that it completely take over, sweep me under, and take me too deep to be found. I would drown in essence in the pain that accompanied it. Yet, I physically felt the urge to be in water and to be completely surrounded by it.
Maybe that’s where God was too. In the deep, mighty waters.
From November 2, 2015, to July 2016 I began my grieving process. I was off work from November through to the end of February, and I was able to explore grief through ceramics, music, writing, and being in water. My optimism from my Christian faith was still a big part of how I chose to see the loss that I had experienced. My blog posts were much less frequent. In between posts I would journal, but I kept these thoughts to myself due to the highly personal nature of my reflections, and also my need at the time to keep others from seeing the intense thoughts and emotions that I was having. I was not always comfortable with the form that grief would take, and I was trying to manage this myself.
Excerpted from Loss Within Waves by Elizabeth Johnstone. Copyright © 2024 by Elizabeth Johnstone. All rights reserved. No part of this excerpt may be reproduced or reprinted without permission in writing from the publisher.