My uncle-in-law just died of Cancer. I am going to his funeral on the day this particular essay is being published. My father-in-law John Nealon just suffered the death of his first sibling, in whom there are 5 in the family. At the wake of one of his friends who died recently, he remarked ‘It’s his generation’s time to die”.
My friend Marshall lost his first sibling over a year ago. There are also 5 in his family. He has also lost both his parents, as I have.
I have written a lot about death on this blog.
Death comes for us all, and it is usually associated with grief. And if you are a Christian, grief can be gripped by hope.
In a guest editorial,l my childhood friend Gabriel makes his first contribution as a guest writer to the Catholic Bard.
He recently just celebrated a joyful wedding anniversary and here he writes about grief and that….
It’s Healthy to Experience Grief
By way of introduction, my name is Gabriel Andreson – not to be confused with Anderson… I
grew up as a PK (pastor’s kid) and am involved in the Church and the Business worlds. Mark
Wilson is a friend of mine, who’s friendship was a Godsend back in the early ‘80’s.
In September of 2024, I experienced one of life’s most difficult moments. After 10 years or so of
health problems, my father unexpectedly succumbed to cancer. He had a very rare cancer that
was being treated with biologics – and because his blood markers were good, we all assumed
that he had several years left. One Saturday morning in September I was on my way up to visit
both of my parents in NH when I got a call from my sister, who, due to her proximity to them,
was much more aware of the day-to-day of their lives. She warned me that dad had taken a turn
for the worse and was not well.
At the time, I had no frame of understanding for that. I had assumed he was moving slowly towards
graduating to Heaven, and in my mind, that was a far way off. After speaking with my sister,
I contacted my uncle, who was always a reliable source for understanding my dad’s health.
He was a career doctor and lived close to his brother. Upon speaking to my uncle, he mirrored
my sister’s warning using different words. “Gabriel , it was about time for your dad to crash, and he’s crashed”.
The second shot had been fired across my mental brow, and though I heard and understood the words,
I was unprepared for what followed. We were able to say goodbye – and within about 10 days of my visit,
he passed on to his next assignment.
The grief was brutal. I have experienced an unwanted divorce and feelings of massive betrayal
in that process, yet this was altogether different. There was a finality in the grief I experienced
that was an unfamiliar enemy; one that I had never faced. After several weeks of sorrow, the
deep grief lifted. And I was given a new level of empathy for those experiencing this kind of
loss.
Fast forward about 8 months to last night. One of my wife’s friends tragically lost her husband
to pancreatic cancer. His passing was quite quick, about 4 months post-diagnosis. We attended
his celebration of life service, which was at the end of a traditional wake, held in a funeral home.
My wife and I greeted the family and supported our friend. Our attendance was important. We
chose to sit in the front row of chairs in the room and were seated facing the memorial where his
ashes were placed. There were several photos of him there, with a cowboy hat that he liked to
wear also placed there by his ashes. About 20 minutes after sitting down, I found myself
experiencing a powerful memory. It was much more than just remembering, it was experiential
– I don’t know how to describe the experience other than that.
I remember being back in NH before my dad’s passing. We all knew he was going to be leaving
soon, and the sorrow in the house was palpable. Hospice had suggested that moving him into the
living room, where they had placed a temporary bed, would be much better, but my dad had lost
his ability to walk – and was present but not totally. My brother-in-law and sister were there to
help, so we wrapped him up in a sheet and moved him together to his final bed.
It was so emotionally painful, none of us could really speak. My wife was there supporting me, and my
mom was very upset as they had been married and living together since she was 18 years old. As
I was sort of re-living that memory, I wanted to run away from that funeral home. It took great
strength to observe myself, and allow myself to experience this gut-wrenchingly painful memory.
As much as I wanted it to stop, I realized that this was coming up as a normal part of dealing
with loss. Then I took a step of faith… I’ve come to use a type of prayer called “Emmanuel
Prayer” at times.
This kind of prayer is an excellent way to heal memories, and since I was in the middle of one,
I reached out to Jesus in my mind. I asked Jesus, “Where are you in this memory, Jesus?”
I looked in my minds eye – and did not see him. I was scared and uncomfortable – remembering this traumatic moment.
After a minute or two of looking, there he was – standing next to me, with his hand on my shoulder. His look was of understanding, and
sharing my grief mixed up with assurance that he was taking care of my dad.
The memory passed…
I’ve processed lots of grief, and have learned to allow myself to experience it. When I was
younger, I would have said that allowing myself to experience something so painful would be to
move past it. Now, I believe it’s healthy and part of life to experience grief and loss, and the pain
of it makes us more grounded, not less. Learning to lean into difficulty rather than avoid it will
accelerate maturity and experience.
#hopeyouareencouraged
“In those days, even in European countries, death had a solemn social importance. It was not regarded as a moment when certain bodily organs ceased to function, but as a dramatic climax, a moment when the soul made its entrance into the next world, passing in full consciousness through a lowly door to an unimaginable scene.”
― Death Comes for the Archbishop
For More on Death Check Out So This Is How I’m Going To Die | Reflections On Death And Dying.
Remember you don’t have to go through your grief and suffering alone.
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