More Than a Backpack: Going Back to School

 More Than a Backpack

      I hate when the school supplies start getting displayed at the store.  It's not that I don't want my kids to go back to school, if anything I am thankful when they do get to go back.  I work from home which means that work becomes way more complicated in the summer months.  I treasure the time with my kids, and we make the most of every moment, but I'm ready for them to go back.  They might not be ready, but I'm counting down the days until they get back in the classroom.  No, the reason why I hate school supplies is that it reminds me of the amputation of losing my wife. The aisles are filled with backpacks, lunch boxes, pencils, folders, glue sticks, and crayons. Parents are making lists. Kids are picking out the backpack they want to carry for the next nine months. Teachers are preparing their classrooms. Stores are advertising sales.  It is supposed to be an exciting time of year.  

      But for a grieving parent, back-to-school season can feel very different.  It feels different for me personally because Tiffanie was the grand master at shopping for school supplies.  She would gather their lists, she knew their sizes, she knew exactly what they needed and wanted.  All I did was tag along for moral support and to pay the bill.  But now I stand in the school supply aisle realizing that someone is missing.  I am now performing a task that someone else was a master of, and I'm not doing the greatest job.  I feel like a failure as I stand in the aisle wondering if they need a three subject notebook or a five?  Does it need to be wide ruled paper or college ruled paper?  I feel a deep emptiness, an emptiness that is almost too hard to describe in words.  My person isn't there.  

      Tiff knew the kids sizes.  She knew what clothes were popular and fashionable.  Me, well, the only way I know their size is by asking them to come over to me in the store and I check the tag in their shirt.  I then ask an AI generator what size they will probably grow into during the school year.  I ask them to take their shoes off so I can see their size. I have them put their feet in that neat measuring device in the shoe store and I have sticker shock paying for a pair of shoes that probably won't make it to Christmas.  Now I'm standing in Walmart filled with frustrations, feeling like a failure as a dad, and having to swallow back tears.  I ask myself, how can something so incredibly ordinary be so incredibly painful.  That my friends is grief.

      One of the hardest things about being a grieving parent is that the responsibilities don't stop.  I wish they would, or at least slow down.  But they don't.  If anything they speed up because the world where you had a partner to help you have evaporated.  All the tasks fall on you, not to mention the grief that is now encompassing your heart.  Your spouse died.  Your heart is broken.  You may barely have enough energy to get through the day.  And yet someone still needs breakfast.  Someone needs clean clothes.  Someone needs a new pair of shoes.  Someone needs lunch packed.  Someone needs a permission slip signed (or ten for that matter).  Someone needs me to check some online form.  Someone needs me to buy supplies for a project.  Someone needs help with a mathematical equation that doesn't make sense.  Someone needs to be at soccer practice at 5:30.  Someone needs help with homework.  Someone needs to be reminded that tomorrow is picture day.  Someone needs to talk about a kid picking on them.  Another one needs to talk to you about their first crush....or worse yet, break up.

     Grief doesn't cancel parenting.  Sometimes it makes parenting feel almost impossible.  You can be completely exhausted emotionally and still have to figure out what your children are eating for dinner.  You can spend the afternoon fighting back tears in the grocery store because you remember how your spouse used to walk those aisles with you. You can stare at a package of your child's favorite cereal and suddenly remember your spouse buying it.  You can be folding school clothes and realize that the person who used to help you choose those clothes will never see your child wearing them.  Friends, that is some heavy emotions right there.  And guess what, those moments can hit without warning.

      And if you're a widower, there may be another layer to all of this.  Maybe shopping wasn't your thing.  Maybe your wife was the one who knew where to find everything, what sizes the kids wore, what they needed, what they didn't need, and what was on sale.  Maybe you are standing in the clothing section thinking, I have absolutely no idea what I'm doing.  And guess what, that's okay.  Seriously.  You are not superman.  You need to give yourself grace, especially in this season of your life.  It's okay not to know.  Ask for help.  Ask another dad.  Ask a friend.  Ask a family member.  Ask another mom at church.  Ask your child's teacher.  You don't have to prove that you can suddenly become both parents, though the temptation will be to try to juggle this.  You're trying to be a grieving father who is learning how to do things he may never have had to do before.  Again, here the words of this widower who has walked this path, give yourself some grace.

      But here is a complication that makes the weight even heavier to bear.  You are not carrying this load of emotions alone, while you're carrying grief, your children are carrying it too.  And they may not know how to explain it.  They may not even understand it.  A child can understand that Mom or Dad died without being able to understand what death means emotionally.  They may know that their parent isn't coming home.  But they may not understand why they suddenly feel angry.  Why they can't concentrate.  Why they don't want to go to school.  Why they are crying over something that seems insignificant.  Why they are afraid something will happen to their other parent.  Why everyone else seems happy when their world doesn't feel happy anymore.  Their little bodies can be carrying enormous emotions.  Their brains and hearts are still developing, but grief doesn't wait until they are old enough to understand it.

    Have you ever watched a small child trying to carry a heavy load in their backpack?  It's almost comical.  There is one little boy at my kid's school who carries a massive backpack each day.  It sags down to his knees.  His dad says he loads it up with snacks, toys, and stuffed animals.  Sounds like a fun backpack,  but when we send our kids back to school there is a weight that isn't seen, and one that doesn't fit in a backpack.  They are carrying grief.  They are carrying memories and questions, fears and absence.  They are carrying the knowledge that their family looks different from many of the families around them.  All they have to do is look around that first day of school.  They will see moms and dads together.  They will visually understand that their life is different.

  As a parent you need to talk with the teachers and administration.  Ask for them to show a little more grace for your children.  Let me give you an example.  There are days when my kids need to go to the washroom not to go pee, but instead to cry.  They are simply sitting at their desk, think of their mom, and they need a small break.  My kids carry pictures of Tiffanie in their backpacks.  They will need times when they can simply grief without being rushed or judged.  These moments can happen on special occassions like the first day of school, mother's day, seeing another kid huge their mom, the dreaded 'draw a picture of your family' assignment, or for no reason on a random Thursday.  Grief that they have been holding in can rush out of them and they simply won't know what to do with it.  They need to have a safe space to cry, to sit alone, to wipe their eyes, to take a deep breath, and not feel forced to pretend that everything is okay at that moment.  We need to let our kids know that there is nothing shameful or wrong with that, it's not a failure of faith either.

      Grief is NOT evidence that you don't trust in the Lord.  The outside world might see your grief through those lens, but God doesn't.  Our Savior, Jesus, openly wept at the tomb of Lazarus, and He KNEW Lazarus would be raised from the dead.  And yet He still wept.  Why does that matter?  Because sometimes Christians unintentionally communicate that if we really trust God, we shouldn't be so sad.  But does the Scripture actually teach that?  NO WAY.  Instead the Bible gives us permission to grieve.  Matthew 5:4 says "Blessed are those who mourn, for they shall be comforted." I want to see something important that Jesus does NOT say.  He does not say that blessed at those who never cry.  He said, "Blessed are those who mourn."  There is room for mourning in the Christian life.  There is room for tears.  There is room for questions.  There is room for saying, "God, I don't understand this."  And there is room for trusting Him while still hurting.

      So what are some practical ways to help during this season of grief and returning back to school?  It's important to have some sort of plan because sometimes grief makes even simple things overwhelming, so simplify wherever you can.  So here is a short list of things that might be helpful.

1. Start school shopping early.

Don't wait until the last possible weekend if you know the crowds and decisions will be exhausting.

2. Make a list.

Write down exactly what each child needs. Don't rely on your grieving brain to remember everything.

3. Ask for help with clothes.

If you're a widower who feels completely lost in the clothing department, ask someone who knows your kids. There is no trophy for figuring it all out yourself.

4. Meal plan.

You don't need to create gourmet meals during a difficult season. Have a handful of easy meals you can rotate through.

5. Keep some easy foods available.

There will be nights when you're emotionally exhausted. Having something simple to make can be a lifesaver.

6. Tell the school.

Your child's teacher and school counselor should know about the loss. They can't support your child if they don't know what your child is carrying.  Let teachers know what helps.  Maybe your child needs permission to step into the hallway.  Maybe they need a trusted adult they can go to.  Maybe they don't want attention drawn to them.  Maybe they want to talk about their parent.  Every child is different.

      But there needs to be more to those plans, because you need a plan for your own self care too.  Don't forget about yourself.  You need support just as much as your children do.  Identify someone you can call when the school calendar becomes overwhelming.  Find someone who can take your kids shopping.  Find someone who can help with transportation.  Find someone who can sit with you when you're having a difficult evening.  Find someone who will listen without trying to fix you.  And most importantly, don't isolate yourself.  Grief has a way of convincing us that we are alone.  But you don't have to carry it alone.  One of the passages that is a foundation of my ministry is Galatians 6:2, "Bear one another's burdens, and so fulfill the law of Christ." Each Christian is tasked with being a burden bearer, helping to shoulder the heavy weight of others.  But what does that look like practically?  Sometimes bearing someone's burden looks like sitting beside them while they cry.  Sometimes it looks like picking up their kids from soccer.  Sometimes it looks like showing up with groceries.  Sometimes it looks like texting, "I'm thinking about you today."  Sometimes it looks like saying, "You don't have to explain. I know today is hard."

      If you're friends with a grieving parent, please don't assume that because school is starting, they're "doing better."  They're probably doing more.  Their mind is occupied and busy.  But there's a difference.  The school year brings an enormous number of decisions and responsibilities.  So instead of saying: "Let me know if you need anything."  Try being more specific.  Say something like, "I'm going school shopping Saturday. Can I take your kids with mine?" "I'm at the grocery store. What can I pick up for you?"  "I can pick your kids up from school on Tuesdays. Would that help?"  "I'm making dinner Thursday. I'm bringing you a plate."  "I know the first day of school is coming. Can I come over and help you get everything ready?"  "Would you like me to come with you when you buy school clothes?"  "I know your child's first day is coming. I'm praying for both of you."

      Let me also make another powerful suggestion from my side of grief.  Please don't be afraid to mention their loved one's name.  Trust me, they want to hear their name.  They treasure that.  Sometimes I put Tiff's name in at Crumbl Cookie just to hear them say it.  Don't assume that talking about them will make the grieving parent sad.  They're already sad.  Hearing their spouse's name can actually be a gift.  Say their name.  Remember their birthdays, anniversaries, first day of school, anniversaries.  Remember that the grieving parent isn't just grieving the person they lost but also the moments that they were supposed to share with their 'person.' 

      We can help carry one another's burdens.  Maybe that's what the church is supposed to look like.  Not pretending grief doesn't exist, of which the church is very guilty of.  And not offering quick answers, even with the best intentions.  Not saying silly things like, "Everything happens for a reason."  But stepping into the mess with someone.  Helping carry what they cannot carry alone.  Read that again.  And just for fun, read it a third time.  The grieving parent may be carrying a grocery list, a school calendar, a backpack, and a thousand responsibilities.  But underneath all of that, they're carrying a broken heart.  A weight that you can't see, but they feel intimately well.  And don't forget about their child, who may be carrying a backpack filled with books while also carrying something nobody else can see.  Grief.

      So as this school year begins, let's remember the children sitting in classrooms who are grieving.  Let's remember the fathers standing in clothing aisles wondering what size their child wears.  Let's remember the mothers trying to hold everything together.  Let's remember the parent sitting in their car before school drop-off, wiping away tears before walking back into the world.  You don't have to be okay today.  You don't have to have everything figured out.  You don't have to parent perfectly.  You don't have to grieve perfectly.  You simply have to take the next step.  And when the next step feels too heavy, let someone walk with you.  For real.  Invite someone into that sacred space with you.  Because God never promised that we would never walk through valleys.  But He did promise that He would be with us there.  "Even though I walk through the valley of the shadow of death, I will fear no evil, for you are with me (Psalm 23:4)."

      So pack the lunches.  Buy the pencils.  Find the shoes.  Sign the permission slips.  Drive to practice.  Cry when you need to.  Pray when you can't find the words.  And when you see your child walking through those school doors carrying a backpack that seems far too heavy, remember that you don't have to carry the weight of their grief by yourself.  You can carry it together.  And ultimately, you can place it into the hands of the One who carries you both.