Grief, The Beast

June 25. 2012. Exactly three years ago. I wake up to a strange sight. Through half-opened eyes, I see my husband towering over me, staring at me. “Whatsup?” I ask him in a groggy voice. He sits on the edge of the bed next to me and starts saying things that don’t quite make sense to me. He talks in circles, about God, about life, about God’s plans….and that is when I clue in that he is buttering me up for terrible news. At this point I stop listening. My heart kicks into high gear and a massive surge of adrenaline rushes through me. I get an instant headache and everything goes fuzzy. My breathing gets very laboured and I want to throw up. All the alarm bells in my system go off and I know then and there that someone in my family has died. I am impatient with my husband as he keeps talking in a bid to lay a foundation that will hopefully soften the blow of the impending news. But it isn’t working. I am freaking out. And no amount of “cushioning” will be enough to prepare me. I just want him to spit out the family member’s name already! I look at his lips intently in a bid to read them because my ears have long given up on their role; resorting to an annoying ringing sound instead. “Your dad has gone to be with the Lord”.

Silence. Silence. Silence. Silence. Wail! Waaail! Waaaaaaail! He hugs me. My whole body convulses in gut wrenching sobs. After only 5 minutes of sobbing, I stop. I nod. “Okay!” I say to him as I get up and get on with my day. First order of business is calling my family. I want to know, more than anything, how my mother and siblings are doing. I also want to know the exact details of dad’s passing. The rest of the day is spent looking into flights to Kenya and in back and forth conversations with people wanting to offer their condolences. Everyone is surprised by how “normal” I sound and look. Even I’m surprised at how well I’m dealing with this grief thing. I haven’t cried at all since that 5 minute sob in the morning when I received the news.

June 26. 2012. It’s day two. I wake up and finalize my ticket purchase. A last-minute ticket during high season sure does fetch top dollar- triple what I would normally pay. I punch in my credit card number without batting an eyelash. There are times to be frugal and cheap. But this is definitely not one of those occasions. I  get ready for work, get into my car and hit the highway. It is at this point that my body says to me “Okay baby girl. We held the grief back so that you can get the logistics out of the way. And now that all the business you had to tend to is done, we are going to unleash the beast. He is vicious. It’s not going to be pretty. But it is necessary for your health.” And with that, the gates of denial lift and the beast pounces on me; mercilessly ravaging me. Grief so powerful I can barely breathe. So here I am, barreling down the highway at 120 km/h, body shaken to the core by my sobbing, eyes blinded by hearty tears. “What am I doing? Where am I going?? Why in the world did I think going into the office was a good idea???” But I was “fine” that morning, remember?

June 29. 2012. I am at the airport now. The last couple of days have been a whirlwind. All I want is to get home to my family. To see for myself how they are really doing. I dread the long 19-hour journey home. Just me. Alone with my thoughts. Alone with my grief. But I pray and ask God for peace; and peace He gives me in immeasurable quantities. I arrive in Nairobi in a very good emotional state – considering the circumstances. But when i get out of the terminal and see me family, all bets are off at that point! I fall apart. I am loud! Bystanders look at me with concerned eyes as they point at me and whisper to one another. When I am finally able to compose myself, we load my bags into the car and head home.

The next couple of days are a flurry of activity. People steadily file in and out of my mother’s house to offer their condolences to our family. Emotionally I feel like a basket case. Sobbing one minute. Laughing hysterically the next. The laughter almost feels like a betrayal of dad’s memory. Are people in grief permitted to laugh??

July 3: 2012. Today we lay dad to rest. This is a most dreaded day. As we drive around the bend and I see the funeral home, my body starts shaking. I am freezing cold. Here I am. The “Canadian” in the crowd, used to minus 40 degree weather, but totally unable to handle a balmy 20 degrees. It’s the moment of truth. My dad’s body is wheeled into the room. Reality slaps me in the face! Hard! If ever I was in any doubt, if ever I was in any denial, seeing that dark-colored casket at the front of the room sure obliterates any doubt. Obliterates any denial. People start lining up to see dad. I remain seated, refusing to move. I don’t want to see him. What if he doesn’t look like I remember? Will that be the image that will remain with me for the rest of my life? People try to convince me to see dad but i remain cemented in my seat. My mother’s words are the ones that finally win me over: “He looks like himself. You should see him.” “Okay mom.” I whisper a prayer, get up and I’m immediately flanked by family members on either side as they lead me to the casket. I finally lay eyes on my dad. My reaction surprises me. I am smiling! “Hiii dad. It’s Liza. It’s so good to see you.” I say while smiling at him lovingly. They were right. It is him! Sleeping. Peacefully. I linger by his side a while. Studying every feature of his beautiful face. Trying to etch it deep in my memories because I will never see his face again – not on this side of heaven anyway. I kiss the glass in the area above his lips. I can’t help but wish things had been different. I was scheduled to go to Kenya in September of that year. But dad didn’t wait for me. He snuck out of the world 3 months too soon. I say sneak out because he was talking to my brother one moment, and the next he was gone.

It is much later in the afternoon. We have made the long drive to my dad’s childhood home for the burial. A church service has already occurred. By God’s grace, I am able to deliver the eulogy without shedding a tear or cracking my voice. In fact, I even manage to chuckle when I recall how my sister and I would plait dad’s hair on a weeknight and he had to struggle to undo the knots the following morning before heading to the office (I bet that was a lot of fun for him – not!). The strength I’m exuding today surprises me. God has been so good to me throughout this grief journey. I feel like a spoilt child. Anything I ask God for, peace, strength, name-it, He gives it to me. Instantly. In overflowing measures. 

We are at the grave site now. I know this is going to be the hardest part yet. There are many people surrounding us in support as we lower dad to his final resting place.  Everything is moving too fast. It’s like as soon as we get there they lower dad into the grave. I am not ready and I want so badly to yell “Wait!! Give me a few minutes here!” But I don’t get a chance to because before I can even wrap my mind around what is happening, they start the burial process. The sound of the soil hitting the coffin, over and over again is eerily haunting. The reality of the finality of dad’s journey is solidified with each scoop of earth that is shoveled into the grave. Each scoop of rising earth slowly, but surely, cements the reality of dad’s separation from us. Grief the beast gives his most brutal bite; a chorus of sobs fills the air. No one is spared from his mauling. He is especially vicious with my mom. We all rush in to encircle mom our arms in a bid to spare her from the pain, but we are no match for the beast. He will not be stopped; he must run his course. He feeds to his heart’s content and eventually backs off slightly, allowing us to proceed. We lay flowers and erect a cross. A prayer of blessing is pronounced and the crowd is dismissed.

My dad’s journey to heaven was a long one. It lasted for 13 years. There are a LOT of lessons my family learned through his journey. In due time, I will share all of them. In the interim, all I can say is that God is faithful. Even in the midst of seemingly “unanswered” prayers, and even in the midst of overwhelming grief, God is still faithful. Rest in perfect peace dad. I love you. Your family loves you. Till we meet again on that great and notable day. xoxo, your loving daughter, Liza.

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For this post I want to share my experience with grief. I felt like a fish out of water and grief was a most confusing phenomenon to me. (I encourage you to post a comment below to share your tips on dealing with grief to help someone who is experiencing it for the first time):

If you know someone who is grieving…

• Do not avoid them. I think the primary reason why people avoid a grieving person is they don’t know what to say. While it may not seem like it to you, simply saying “I’m sorry for your loss” or “my condolences” is enough. Even silence, coupled with a physical presence, is enough. Some people I considered ‘close friends’ of mine avoided me and said nothing. That cut me pretty deep – and it took a really long time, and God’s help, for me to get over what I considered a betrayal of friendship.
• Do not tell the person not to cry. That is not only insensitive, but frankly, it is unrealistic. I nearly bit the head off of one poor relative when she told my mom not to cry for the sake of her kids. “Let her cry!!!!” was my response. Something horrendous just happened to this person. Let them cry to their heart’s content. If you are around them, just hug them or hold their hand. Don’t feel like you need to fill the air with many words.
• You might think that saying “everything happens for a reason”, or some other cliché phrase, is a good idea. While these may very well be valid statements, saying that to a person at the height of their grief can come across as you trivializing their pain. Again I say, “sorry” is more than enough.

If you are grieving…

• Grieve. Do not try to stifle it. The longer you postpone it, the harder it will be.
• Don’t compound your grief by also carrying the grief of your family members on your shoulders. Carrying other people’s grief doesn’t lessen theirs – but it worsens yours. I tried to carry my mom’s grief on top of my own – and it was too much to bear.
• Forget “normal” and “logic”. You will likely feel like you are losing your mind and you will not understand the range of emotions accosting you every 2 seconds. Go with the flow. Cry when you want. Laugh when you want. Do not allow people to tell you how to feel. We all grieve differently.
• Your body will act in strange ways. It’s very interesting to see how your body protects you (or is it itself?) when you experience trauma. Apart from freezing on a warm day, my body also shut down ‘plumbing’ for 36 hours.
• Protect yourself from unnecessary grief. I had to temporarily put away all photos of my dad. I couldn’t handle seeing his face on a daily basis. I wasn’t trying to forget him; I just needed to heal first.
• Do whatever you feel is necessary to help you grieve (assuming it’s legal, godly and isn’t harming you or others). I had always felt like deceased people were lonely – out in a field somewhere, all alone, 6 feet under. Ridiculous? Yes. But it was my opinion nonetheless. So I insisted on placing a family photo in the casket with dad so he doesn’t get ‘lonely’. This ridiculous gesture lessened my grief.
• Do not put a timeline on grief. It will take as long as it takes to get over…more like get through because I don’t believe we ever truly get over grief. I recall one day, nearly 4 months after my dad died, grief hit me like a freight train! It was like day one all over again. My heart literally felt raw within me and I couldn’t stop crying for hours. CAUTION: We should however take caution not to let our lives get buried with the deceased. Although something really traumatic has happened, you should fight to keep living your life and adjust to the new normal. Life must go on.
• Most important lesson. PRAY! Pray pray pray! Tap into God. He is a Father to the fatherless and a Defender of widows. (Psalms 68:5). He is close to the broken-hearted and saves those who are crushed in spirit (Psalm 34:18). Matthew 5:4 tells us that blessed are those who mourn, for they will be comforted. I was a spoilt little daughter when Daddy called my dad home. God was there for me and my family every step of the way. Remember that airfare that was so expensive? A well-wisher refunded every single dime back to me. That’s God’s doing!

You know what i think? Grief can actually be a gift – an unwanted gift, but a gift nonetheless. Grief has a way of putting things into perspective for you. It has a way of prioritizing your life for you. When someone you love dies, you quickly realize the meaninglessness of a lot of things you hold dear like money, career, grudges, etc. You realize that family and relationships are what is important. Perhaps the biggest gift of grief is that it gets you thinking about your own mortality and forces you to ask yourself the hard questions about your eternity.

Have no regrets. Leave nothing unsaid. If you’ve wronged someone ask for forgiveness. If you’re the injured party, offer your total forgiveness. Do it now. Tomorrow is promised to no one.

Let’s live every moment as though it was our last. No one knows the time or the hour when their life will be demanded from them. I can rest assured that my dad is in heaven – but that is because he gave his life to Christ. If you were to breathe your last today, do you know where you would end up? Heaven? Hell? Jesus says “I am the Way, the Truth and the Life. No one can come to the Father except through Me” (John 14:6). If you do not know Christ as your personal Saviour, pray this simple yet powerful prayer of transition: Jesus I want to thank you for dying for my sins. I confess you as my Lord and now repent of my sins and invite you to come into my heart. Thank you for making me the person you created me to be. I now receive you as my personal Saviour and Lord and promise to live the way your Word instructs me to. This I pray in Jesus name Amen. I encourage you to check out the prayer page of this blog for more info and next steps.

Love and blessings to you.

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