Cover photo – Freepik
Death is probably the most difficult part of life, especially when it’s tragic, sudden, and unexpected. There also isn’t a clear roadmap to navigate through the aftereffects and grieving process. I’ve watched children, teenagers, and adults grieve and can assure you that everyone grieves differently, sometimes very much so.
One of the most difficult aspects of death is the days, week, and months after. Immediately after someone passes away, there are usually crowds of people around. There are many decisions to be made and arrangements to be prepared. People are usually sending flowers and dropping off food to the loved one’s home. The phone is ringing, neighbors are knocking, and there are people present.
Yet, within a few weeks, all of this activity usually comes to a screeching halt. The food is gone, the flowers have faded, and we are left alone to sort through the chambers of the heart and begin our own personal grieving process.
I’m writing from experiencing this in my own life. If you’ve been following this column for some time now, you’d know that I lost a sibling suddenly at the young age of twenty-two. I can still remember vividly how busy our lives and house were the evening of his passing and the days to follow. There were people everywhere. Family traveled in from afar, constant knocks on the door with all types of gifts of compassion. I’m still grateful for each one of those, and for people keeping our minds are hearts busy.
After spending two weeks at my parents’ home on Long Island, I had to return to my apartment at that time in Astoria. Even though my life had been completely flipped upside down, it also was forced to go on. Work was calling, the bills were also knocking on the door, and I just couldn’t hide away forever, even though I really wanted to. All of the “friends” at that time also slowly disappeared as they tend to when life gets really rough. They returned to life as usual, some of them I haven’t heard from since. I personally can’t remember a lonelier season of life than that specific one.
When I finally arrived back to Astoria, unpacked my bags, and made a cup of coffee, I remember having a “so, now what?” moment. My apartment at the time was right on Astoria Boulevard, a really busy road with constant traffic from both cars and mass transit. Everyone outside was just living life, moving to and from with the busyness of their day and responsibilities. Yet, I felt like I was living in the Twilight Zone. My mind was consumed with everything I just experienced and saw in the past few weeks while having these deeper questions about life, our fragile existence here, and if there was any type of life after this one. Even though I was far from a church going person at the time, I started searching for some answers and began with finding a church to sit in alone. It was peaceful there.
People all around us are on their own grieving journeys. Make it a point to reach out to them, especially when the food and flowers are gone. They need a friend; someone they can talk to about life and about their loved one with. They need a friend that’s still standing there when everyone else has returned to life as usual. They need to know that they are being prayed for, thought about, and on another human’s heart as they attempt to navigate a new life without their loved one. Even if their loved one has long passed and you never did reach out.
Do so today. Share a memory or something you fondly remember about the person they are still missing. It’s good for their healing heart.
There’s undoubtedly a place for the food and the flowers; those are definitely appropriate and appreciated. There’s also a place for a true friend that is still there when the food is gone, and flowers have faded away.
“It is better to go to a house of mourning than to go to a house of feasting, for death is the destiny of everyone; the living should take this to heart.”
— Ecclesiastes 7:2
