Misunderstanding Grief and Healing

They Don’t Understand My Grief—

and I’m Thankful for That

      I'm sure that each of us had a subject in school that we weren't very fond of.  It was probably a subject that no matter how hard you worked at, it just didn't seem to make sense.  My subject was math.  I always said that math stood for mental abuse to humans.  It wasn't that I didn't try or work hard.  I spent so much time being tutored and repeating step after step, but I never seemed to understand.  For some of you it was science, English, or maybe even a foreign language class (don't get me started on my three years of French class).  

      I honestly believe that there are some things that people just won't understand, or at least until they experience it personally.  Grief is one of those things.  Grief can only have true empathy from someone who has, or is walking in it.  I took classes on counseling people through grief, I bought books on how to help people grieve, I've sat with people as a pastor as they grieved, BUT I didn't understand the language that they spoke until death actually struck my own home.  Grief creates a strange reality, it is almost as if people who have never been touched by grief feel like they are given an invitation to make a commentary based off of our choices and life.  It is a unique experience to have people with zero experience on a subject speak as if they are masters.

      When Tiff passed away, my life didn’t just become sad, it almost became unfamiliar, like I was walking in a strange land that didn't seem to make any sense.  Life became unfamiliar. The routines, the silence, the decisions, the parenting, everything changed shape. And yet, time kept moving.....and so did people’s opinions.  

      Imagine for a moment being a sports broadcaster.  You are hired to speak about a game that you have watched and studied, but maybe have never played.  I have met people that are extremely opinionated about sports, yet they obviously haven't worked out in forever.  That doesn't mean they can't make a comment, it's a free country, but it also means that their comments are often clouded with good intentions or just bad judgment based on circumstances they simply don't understand.

      I felt this quickly after Tiff passed away, but it definitely became apparent after I started dating again.  I knew when I started to date that I would receive a variety of different comments from the peanut gallery.  People came out of the woodwork in order to make speak, they felt qualified to interpret my life choices.  Now, to be fair, some people were incredibly kind, especially the people that got to know Les.  Some were confused, which I totally understood.  Others quietly judgmental, others weren't so quiet in their judgment.  I wanted to respect that fact that other people were grieving Tiffanie too, and I still want to respect the pace of their healing.  Grief and healing don't follow clean linear lines.  It's not a paint by numbers, instead it looks more like a toddler finger painting.  Grief and healing are messy.  Grieving people desire to be respectful of where other people are at in their journey, but it's also different for them when others feel free to pass judgment, make vague posts on social media, and feel the need to feed the grape vine information.  Almost all of them had one thing in common: they weren’t speaking from shared experience.  It reminds me of the old children's song, one of these things is not like the other, one of these things just doesn't belong.  That is how I feel about people who have never been touched by grief passing judgment on the grieving.  

      Now, I want to be very clear.  By passing judgment I'm not saying that you can't share advice or opinions.  Far from that.  I always appreciate when someone who genuinely loves me tries to understand my heart and pours themselves in to me.  You can tell it's real, it's heartfelt, and it comes from a position of building not destruction.  Passing judgment are the crude comments, the cloak and dagger, behind the scenes games that people play.  The grade school antics that weren't acceptable on the elementary playground, let alone in the adult world.

      One day a person told me, "Matt, your grief is taking a long time to get over."  I wanted to respond, and by respond I mean in the flesh.  I wanted to make a mean comment which would have been very out of my character because I try to placate at my own harm, but instead I felt a different pang in my heart.  I was thankful for that person.  That might sound like a strange epiphany to come to, but I was thankful that person didn't understand.  That meant they didn't feel my pain, they didn't have to go through the depression that plagued me, they didn't have to feel those feelings of extreme loneliness and hopelessness.  I would never in a million lifetimes wish that kind of loss on anyone.  If I had to choose I would rather carry the weight of someone else misunderstanding my choices than to ask them to carry even one single moment of my grief.

      There’s a verse that has quietly anchored me through this season.  It has provided me with grace and help me understand other people's perceptions.  Galatians 6:2 says “Carry each other’s burdens, and in this way you will fulfill the law of Christ."  If you know someone who is grieving I want to provide you with a little nugget of advice.  You can care for that person without fully comprehending them.  Their grief isn't a problem that demands you fix it.  To be honest, it's not a problem at all.  That person just wants you to share their burden in love and grace.

      So, what I’ve learned in the past 28 months of grieving?  Grief doesn't follow a timeline...neither does healing.  Faith hasn’t removed the pain, but it has reframed it and changed me deeply. I believe God is not offended by my complicated story, and trust me, it's complicated at times. He isn’t asking me to make my life look tidy for public approval nor is He asking me to provide every detail, nor is He asking me to understand exactly what He's doing. He is simply walking with me through what I never would have chosen.

      So when people misunderstand, I try not to be defensive or bitter, but instead to have gratitude.  Why would I feel gratitude?  Because misunderstanding usually comes from a place of distance or unshared experience. And distance means they haven’t had to walk where I’ve walked.  And I would never wish that road on them.  Still, I trust this: God does not waste grief.  I promised Tiffanie to not waste her story, and I told God after she passed away that I refused to waste my hurt and sorrow. He meets me in it, and He will meet you too.