I was challenged by my story partner friend to take Kate Motaung’s challenge to write a letter to grief. Since it ties in with my recent series on Living Open Handed, I choose to share this here also.

 

Dear Grief,

I don’t think I want to talk to you!

I’ve spent so many years struggling to survive your choke hold on my life!

I’ve crawled through your tunnel

Filled with muck- dark and slimy

So deep that with each step I sunk farther

O

Until it began to paralyze my legs

Then my torso and my arms

Finally my face

Silencing my voice

Blind folding my sight

Dulling my ability to hear as you filled my ears with your lies.

I could barely find my next breath

OH

let alone move.

But in my mind I imagined arms flailing, legs running!

Desperately trying to get as far from you as I could

Only to feel my lungs crushed with each exursion

And wake to the fact that nothing had changed.

I thought I would die in your place of residence

OH GOD

The air rank from the stench of the death all around me.

My bones ached in the cold dampness of … Maybe my own tears!

When I thought I could cry no more

The tears would leak out- or tumble- or burst out

From some place so deep I never knew existed

For so long I felt like I was drowning in them

Many days turned into nights

And the nights would never end.

OH GOD HELP!

I

Didn’t

Notice

At first

Grief, some days I could have sworn I was having a heart attack

My heart ripped in a trillion pieces

Some days the hole was so great I felt I was being swallowed up in it

What was that?

The relationships around me felt hollow

I wanted them to help take the ache away

They needed the same from me

We hurt each other trying

Mom you know what green means?

The memories flood my mind

Reliving the accident over and over

Mom look!

If only I had ….

I wish I would have…. So many wishes

Why did she have to….

Die!

Green… Means Hope!

What? Green means hope!

Yes I remember the day you ran in to the kitchen to tell me

My favorite color means my favorite word

Green means hope!

God! You know you made her for special things.

Her last words to me when I teased her about

Needing her drivers permit so she could have power were

“I want to influence. I want to say to people I’m going, come with me!”

Wait a minute grief!

I want to influence people too!

I can’t say to them “I’m going, come with me” if I’m stuck here!

Lord, what do I do to live?

Stop!

Be still!

Let your whole body be at rest.

Close your eyes

But open the eyes of your heart

What do you see?

Darkness-up close! Panic rushing in my voice.

Shhhhh! Listen with your heart!

See in your mind eyes.

What do you notice?

I see….

brown, but there’s a little…

It’s a…

It’s something green!

And a little ways down there is another.

And over there.

Green means hope!

Follow the hope!

It is more often now…

Grief, you look frantic!

You keep on throwing things at me

That sideline me for a while!

The guilt was so destructive

The anger took its toll too!

Look! More green!

And there seems to be a little more light!

At least I feel like I can breathe a little better.

But can I actually go on

How can I live when my daughter has died?

God why did you let this happen?

Why did you let me hurt so bad?

Can I trust you God?

Climb up on my lap?

But I’m in this grief tunnel and you’re….

Right here with you!

You… Are… here?

You ARE here!

But I’m so mad at you!

How can I trust you?

Climb up here- let’s talk!

I DON’T WANT TO TALK- I WANT YOU TO FIX THIS!

I raise my fists and pound on his chest.

Words striking as hard as my blows

Emotions pouring out with a violence frightening even to me.

HOW CAN THIS BE GOOD?

This is not good- but I AM good!

My heart longs to believe him

My body, exhausted from wrestling collapses

Only to find his arms wrapped around me

Protecting me

Comforting me

Crying with me

Will you open your hand?

I… Why?

Will you open your hand and let go of the hold you have on grief?

You mean grief has on me… !

Does he? Open your hand?

But… If…. It’s the last thing I have of her!

To let go… I don’t want to lose her.

Would she want you to hold on to her death

Or her life?

Will you open your hand?

…..I looked at my hands-

still clinched tight from beating on the chest of this

Gracious companion in grief’s world.

…I want to…. Will you help me?

Of course. Open one finger at a time.

First one is the hardest.

Now two, and three… See how much better that feels.

I do! I can open my hands all the way.

Thank you!

I see you! Here with me all this time.

You’ve been holding me all the time I thought I was doing it myself.

Take my hand precious mother

Let’s leave this place

And take the message left to you by your daughter that I gave to you both

And use the design I have given to you

To influence your world.

I’ll never leave you!

Grief, it is with great pleasure you are not my companion any more.

I know we will meet on occasion

I know you will sneak up on me and steal me away to your terrible place

But I do not live there any more!

I choose to open my hands

To the God of Green Hope

Who fills me up with joy

Fills me up with peace

So that my believing life

Filled with the life giving energy of the Holy Spirit

Will brim over with hope!
(Romans 15:13 msg)

I’m going!

Come with me?

 

I’m passing on the challenge. What will you say in your letter to grief?

I would love for you to share it. You can include it in the comments here or send me an email at Kathy@greenhopecoaching.com.  Or join Kate Motaung’s link up here.