Helping Others Deal With Grief Over the Holidays: Part IV

I had to make a difficult phone call yesterday.

Last night, after a day of work and an evening church meeting, I called my aunt.

Normally I would look forward to calling her because I love chatting with her. We’re like-minded, she’s sharp, she has some great life stories to tell, and she’s got a great sense of humor. We’ve gotten really close over the past ten years, especially since the untimely death of her only daughter, Jan, who fought valiantly and then succumbed to ovarian cancer ten years ago.

But yesterday’s call was difficult because it was the 40th anniversary of the death of her son Jeff, my beloved cousin and Jan’s older brother, who was killed in a tragic car accident on the icy roads in Northern California—on his way south to their home near Anaheim, California, for Christmas.

It was a devastating day. And I called her to let her know I was thinking about her.

A mother never forgets those days. Decades don’t remove the pain and regret.

 

She knew what I meant when I told her I just wanted to let her know I was thinking about her. And she thanked me and told me she appreciated it.

Then we had a really nice chat. As we talked, her spirits seemed to perk up. We caught up, laughed and loved through the satellite connection.

It was a sweet time. But the reason behind our special connection on yesterday’s date, December 16, was heartbreaking.

 

Is someone in your circle suffering loss or grief?

Does someone you know need an “I’m thinking about you today,” call? Who do you know that’s been suffering a loss of a loved one, a divorce, an estrangement from a spouse, parent or child? Who around you needs to know that someone is thinking about them during this time of extreme joy and extreme loneliness?

Reach out and connect, some way, with them today. Even a simple call can do wonders for a grieving person’s spirit. On Christmas Eve, or Christmas Day. Make sure the grieving in your circle of friends or acquaintances are watched over and loved during the holidays.

 

NEXT WEEK: Helping you deal with your own grief during the holidays.

Until then, reach out and connect.

Blessings,

Andrea


Andrea Arthur Owan is an award-winning inspirational writer, fitness pro and chaplain. She writes and works to help people live their best lives—physically, emotionally, and spiritually.

Helping Others Deal With Grief Over the Holidays: Part II

DO YOU KNOW anyone suffering from grief this holiday season? Are you looking for ways to lessen their heart’s pain?

Today we’ll continue with our series on grief and helping others deal better with grief deepened by holiday loneliness and melancholy. For the first list of suggestions, see last week’s post: “Helping Others Deal With Holiday Grief Part I”.

 

Don’t be afraid to name names—

Although it’s tempting to tiptoe around using a deceased person’s name, it’s best that you not fear using the deceased person’s name, even if it triggers tears in the grieving person. If you knew the deceased, let the grieving person know how much you’ll miss their loved one or friend. Just offering a comment, like: “I’m sorry for your loss,” can sound impersonal. If you’re sorry, say it, but also identify the person by name. Validate that the person hasn’t disappeared from the grieving person’s conscientious, even though they are out of their daily life.

For years—more than sixty, to be more specific—my mother referred to my older sister, her first baby, who died in utero due to umbilical cord strangulation, as “that baby.” I couldn’t understand why she wouldn’t—or couldn’t—identify her by name. As though it hurt less to name her or think of her as a real human being.

I always refer to my older sister—who I have never met—as “Cheryl,” which is what they named her. Cheryl Ray Arthur.

I always say my deceased baby’s name when referring to her—Victoria. Of course, I held her in my arms and loved her for a brief day. Something my mother wasn’t given the option to do. My dad made the decision to not allow my mom to see her. I know he was probably trying to protect my mom, but I’m sure it didn’t help in the grieving process—to not be able to hold the baby you’d carried and felt for nearly nine months. Doctors and nurses are now wiser about such things.

 

Go beyond the general question—

Think of asking something deeper than “How are you?”

I know. It’s the easiest, most common question to ask a grieving person. But the answer is usually pretty obvious. They’re not doing well. From a really close friend, it might sound sincere. But more often it sounds more like an everyday, pat question.

Instead, try digging deeper into their feelings, with a question like: “How are you feeling today?” Or “Is today a good day or a rough day?” And then let them open up. Or not.

 

Be sure to offer the grieving person hope—

This is great advice, as long as you don’t venture into making pat comments like “It was God’s will,” or “It must have been for the best.” If the grieving person offers these comments first—as many will do after watching a loved one deteriorate and suffer with cancer—then you may feel freer to agree with them. You might even feel free to rejoice with them that their loved one is no longer suffering.

But the best advice is to let them take the lead. And assure them that as bad as it feels right now, as black as the valley feels, they will get through it. At the same time, assure them that it’s okay to grieve, and that everyone grieves at their own pace. Encourage them to not allow others to push them along, or pay heed to those that tell them to be tough, to pull them up by their bootstraps and get on with life.

Assure them that others will be by their side as much or as little as they want as they walk the path of grief. Encouraging them to join a grief group, or take them to one, can also be helpful and feel supportive. Being with others who are suffering through the loss of a loved one can be encouraging. It goes a long way to not feel so alone.

When you first experience the pain of loss, you’re tempted to feel as though no one else on earth has ever experienced the pain you’re going through. Hearing others talk about their pain can help soothe your throbbing heart.

 

We’ll leave it there for today, but next week we’ll have more tips on helping others manage their grief as they slog through the holidays.

Until then, hold your loved ones closely and rejoice over the time you have with them, not matter how limited that time may be.

Blessings,

Andrea


Andrea Arthur Owan is an award-winning inspirational writer, fitness pro and chaplain. She writes and works to help people live their best lives—physically, emotionally, and spiritually.

How to Cope With Grief During the Holidays—Part 1

The holiday season is fast approaching. I can’t believe we’re already into November, and the close of the year is just a squeak over seven weeks away. I’m not ready for it mentally. But at least I’m looking forward to the potential joy and peace of it. Feelings many, if not most people, don’t enjoy during the holiday season.

 

While many of us look forward to the holidays with joy, too many look forward to them with dread and heavy hearts. Many of us anticipate fun days full of children and grandchildren laughter and squeals of delight, silent nights and flickering candles shared with church family and friends. Roasted turkey in the middle of a table surrounded by grateful loved ones.

 

But what about the couple whose cancer-stricken child won’t be seated at the table with them this year, or ever again?

What about the despondent mother whose husband has just walked out the door, and she doesn’t know how she’s going to provide any kind of holiday for her two shell-shocked children?

What about the older widow who will have to spend the day alone because her children live a couple thousand miles away, and no one in her tiny sphere has thought of inviting her to join their family for festivities?

Or the aged man confined to a memory care facility, without family members or friends.

 

Coping with grief (and thriving) at this time of year—

It seems like a morbid subject to discuss during this otherwise festive (market and product-driven) time of year, but that’s the subject I’ll be covering for this month and most of December—

How to make it through the grief that can overwhelm us at this time of year, and help others around us slog through it too.

Aside from recent pain, holidays can open up old wounds. Melancholy and depression can be overwhelming. Just how can we help ourselves, and those around us, get through this time of year with a modicum—or more—of joy and look forward to a new year full of hope and promise?

 

Our goal won’t be too forget our pain—the circumstances or the people it swirls around—but to work through it. To use it to our advantage, to gain strength and hope from it.

To resist the forces that would bury our hearts alive.

Preparing our hearts for the holidays—

We’ll formally begin this process next Monday. But until then, I want to give you something that will encourage your heart.

Remember that God is for you, not against you, no matter what others insinuate or what your broken and disillusioned and shocked heart may tell you. Or what the evil one may whisper in your ear.

God stands ready, willing and able to hold you close, carry, or walk you through it.

 

And for those of you who look forward to the holidays with rejoicing, be on the lookout for people who need comfort and a tender, encouraging word.

 

And maybe a place at your celebration table.

Until then,

Prepare to dig and go deep, with yourself and others.

Blessings,

Andrea


Andrea Arthur Owan is an award-winning inspirational writer, fitness pro and chaplain. She writes and works to help people live their best lives—physically, emotionally, and spiritually.

Memorial Day—Remembering (and Thanking) a Great-great Grandfather

Life in the Owan household has been tumultuous the past couple of weeks. Confronting my 97-year-old mother’s cognitive decline has been eye-opening and heartbreaking. What makes it even more difficult is that her personality is contributing to the, well, difficulty of managing her care.

But through it all, God has been faithful to provide, sustain, quiet our hearts and provide a path. It is amazing and humbling to see how He has orchestrated the process and provided extra measures of faith, trust, strength and peace. Yes. PEACE!

And today I am enjoying peace and a respite with my beloved after celebrating a wedding and gathering with old, dear friends.

Yet even though I am enjoying the respite of walking along the seashore, feasting on the predictable and soothing rhythm of undulating and crashing waves, my thoughts have been drawn back to the men and women who have given their all—their precious lives—for my country.

And one of those men was a great-great grandfather of mine who wore Union blue, lined up as an Ohio serviceman, and died on some bloody battlefield and is buried somewhere in some state east of the Mississippi.

He fought to save our union. Our Union, which, thank the Almighty, was spared.

Did he get “just one more hug and kiss” from his wife before he marched off or boarded the troop transport train? Did the family envision him alive even though he was no longer? How many months limped by before the heartbreaking death notice was received? Did his family have to peer at some deceased list posted on a main square building, or listen to names read aloud from a list.

Did he promise unequivocally to return to them?

Dear God, how did the family survive after his death?

They must have survived, because my mother is a product of their survival.

This day—Memorial Day—is for his memory and others just like him, killed on home or foreign soil. Lives all sacrificed for freedom and our way of life. To preserve our democratic republic.

All the thousands of men and women who have made the ultimate sacrifice so that I can stroll peacefully along a beautiful beach and enjoy living without looking over my shoulder.

Thank you, great-great grandfather, and all of you who stood and fell beside him!

Don’t ever forget them.

Andrea

Good Friday Meditation: Why Would God Abandon His Son?

Abandon is a hard word and an even rougher experience. Feeling abandoned tears open your heart, stuns your soul and leaves you feeling eviscerated. So when Jesus cries out from the cross:

 

“My God, my God, why have you abandoned me?”

 

it’s difficult to get your mind wrapped around.

How could the God incarnate—fully God and fully man—feel abandoned from the God eternal? How could God do that to His son? It seems too hard too believe, that God would be that…well, I hesitate to type it…cruel.

 

There are numerous resources that talk a lot about why that had to happen, why God had to remove His spirit from Jesus in order to fully experience all the ugliness and sin of the world. How Jesus was the Lamb of God, the one, and only one, who could satisfy that atoning sacrifice—to pay the ultimate debt—so those who believed in Him could enjoy eternity with Him in Heaven.

But I’m going to throw out another reason. Mind you, it’s not theological; it’s just a suspicion I have. One that comes from being a parent and imagining one of my sons being tacked up naked on a rough Roman cross for all those bewildered, curious, scornful eyes to ogle.

 

I think God had to remove His spirit far away from Jesus, and turn His broken heart and eyes away.

 

Can you imagine watching your son suffer like that, for no good reason, to pay the price for other peoples’ sins without intervening and trying to get him down off that cross? Without putting your own life on the line; or offering yourself as sacrifice instead?

I’m sure his mother, Mary, would have done it if she had the capability and power. After all, she was one of the few followers that showed up that day and wept at the foot of the cross, along with several other women who wept alongside her and for her. I believe she would have done anything to rescue her beloved son from such torment.

But God the Father could have done something during those six hellacious hours, and didn’t. And I suspect He had to turn his face away from His son’s suffering because He couldn’t stand to watch.

He had to temporarily abandon, or forsake, His son so the sacrifice could happen and the atonement be fulfilled.

 

But then I think He had enough.

 

Historical accounts indicate that most crucified people hung on their crosses several days before dying, withering in the sun, slowly suffocating. In horrific physical pain. But Jesus lasted exactly six hours and then willingly gave up His spirit into His Father’s hands.

Was it the moment God’s spirit returned to Him that He knew the price was paid and the torture was over?

How much relief the Father must have enjoyed the moment He re-joined with His Son. How much relief Jesus must have experienced.

All of it orchestrated, planned and perfectly timed for our benefit.

 

On this Black Friday that we also refer to as “Good,” I’ll be thinking about not only Jesus’ but the Father’s anguish.

Contemplating their mutual, unfathomable sacrifices.

 

Come Sunday morning, I pray your heart is once again drenched in the Father and Son’s joy!

Andrea