Honest Grief

I wrote that poem a few months after I was unanimously voted into the International Society of Widows and Widowers.  It wasn’t long into my inauguration that I discovered the importance of honesty as an essential ingredient in the process of navigating grief and loss.

Day one, five years ago today, I experienced a surge of anger that was completely unexpected. It felt like an ambush.  I didn’t know what to do with that emotion. But I held it and listened to it. I wasn’t ready at the time for what it needed to tell me.

It needed me to confront the fact that I had a difficult marriage. And for those who knew us together, that might come as a surprise. What looked good on the outside was masked by the reality of what was on the inside. My anger was an important signal to warn me that something was amiss and would require my full attention.

So what was I angry at?  

I was angry at what wasn’t right, but I couldn’t verbalize it, nor do anything to go back and change it. Today, I can see clearly what was going on then, but in the moment, I only had the vexing emotion of anger churning in me. I could tell that honest work needed to be done. But honesty in grief comes a step at a time.

Grief without honesty isn’t all that helpful unless I’m not interested in wholeness. If I’m ok with partialness, then I don’t have to be very candid. I can only be slightly truthful and get by. But to me, restoration means restoring all of me. Therefore, I need to be all in, genuine and matter of fact about what’s wrong and what needs to change so I can become whole.

I can’t be whole unless I am wholly honest. And I can’t be much help encouraging you to being honest if I’m not honest with myself.

I say this often. Most of my writing is written to me. I am my primary audience. I am not writing directly to my reader because I don’t know what you are dealing with.  I post my thoughts as my reflections, not to broadcast advice. I come from the assumption that you and I might not be far off in our common ground. My words of experience might mirror yours, but you didn’t have the ability to articulate it.

I like to use my voice to help you hear yours.

I think I’m a better writer now than I was yesterday, because I’m doing my best to be more honest today.

Regarding using fewer words, I think I’ve said enough.

Thanks for reading.