The Power of a Name

Grief is a really funny thing.  It slips up at moments demanding attention like a stubborn toddler.  And like that toddler, it rearranges things a bit, yes you may be cooking dinner but I want your attention NOW and I'm going to demand it to the point that you have to pause and at least take notice.  A dear friend grieving the loss of his mother related a story of being instantly teary when the clock struck 12:34 at his house one day, a reminder of his mom's dying breaths.  A woman at church shared with me the teary moment when her finger rubbed past a chip on a plate that was made by her late husband dropping it.  We ALL do this kind of thing, it's the nature of grief.  To mourn is to do the work that grief stands there demanding, even though you had other plans for that moment.

I wonder why it's not the bigger things that present such moments, but the seemingly innocuous.  A yard filled with leaves to be raked (Chris' job) doesn't seem to phase us, after all that's also a source of exercise and we just rake them.  Trash cans and recycling bins put out and gathered in each week, again formerly Chris' job, just get handled because that's what we do.  His wedding ring on my hand, another on Emily's, a watch on Eric's wrist, all of these things have been incorporated into who we are now and feel like normal life.  So what is this thing about grief standing there with something as innocent as an article on the OP/ED page of the paper that I just KNOW he would love as I am half reading and half making dinner.  The toddler screams!  "Pay attention to me and do it NOW."  Tears drip, a son notices, a hug is given, a daughter comes in, now a group hug and then memories come pouring out.  "Yes Dad would like that article but he would have so liked this show on the History Channel last night, let me tell you about it..."  "I was on campus today and I ran across a colleague of Dad's and I thought about how the last time I talked to her I was with him..." 

Where did our intense, almost explosive grief outpourings of late March and April go?  We spent Friday night after Friday night either crying or at Dairy Queen.  We didn't finish making dinner and move straight into homework back then, I think we were living off ice cream on some of the worst nights.  So what happened?

I've always been fascinated by mythic writing and how the quest is always to learn the name.  Learning the name of something or someone ends up giving you the power in those kinds of stories.  It invites an intimacy of discovery in which the thing or person that once held all the cards no longer has total power over you.  That's the walk of grief.  The kids and I have been on a quest of sorts, on a journey...to learn the name.  And in learning to name grief, it's power lessens.  Do I still miss Chris horribly?  YES.  Do I daily see what the kids and I have lost?  YES.  But I know grief's name now and I am actually surprisingly grateful for what it has taught me and how it has transformed me. 

It is the power of story.  It is the power of the name.  And throughout, it is the power of God and engaging in an ever deepening intimacy with our Mysterious Author.

Grace for your journey,
Leigh